It's been a long, hard ride these past five years for Calvin Broadus. So much so it's sometimes difficult to remember just why everyone was so interested in the first place. So let's rewind to 1993, and the release of 'Doggystyle', probably the most slaveringly anticipated album in rap's hyperbolic history.
Snoop Doggy Dogg's stock couldn't have been higher: discovered by Dr Dre and brought in to front most of the previous year's 'The Chronic' album, the record that defined the 'G-Funk' sound and kick-started gangsta rap's domination of the American music business, Snoop was one of the biggest stars in the world. He was also deep in legal problems, an accessory to murder charge hanging over his head, turning his career into a courtroom drama with uncomfortable OJ Simpson overtones.
So, rather than build on the multi-platinum success of that debut album, Snoop withered on the vine. The one-time Long Beach gang member, the epitome of the all-American rags-to-riches fairytale, spent three years away from the rap world, and by the time he re-emerged at the end of 1996, everything had changed.
The Wu-Tang Clan and the Notorious BIG had emerged from New York, hip hop's beats had become steelier and grittier than before, G-Funk had run its course and Snoop got lost in the mix. 'The Doggfather', a hotch-potch of ill-fitting beats and lacklustre raps, failed to build on either the sly humour or laid-back dexterity of Snoop's microphone technique. Two albums on Master P's No Limit label came and went as the '90s drew to a close, Snoop's once bright star plucked from the firmament to become just another jewel in the New Orleans rap impressario's crown.
So this fifth Snoop Dogg album (he had to drop the "Doggy" to get out of his Death Row deal) arrives with expectations set resolutely low. And, if it hadn't been the work of someone who once promised so much more, it might well be considered an adequate release. But this collection of shimmering-smooth, synthesiser-led beats and lazy gangsta rap posturing isn't worthy of the once great Snoop.
There are slices of what made him the hottest property in popular music's most lucrative genre; moments - such as 'True Lies', which samples Bill Clinton's impeachment hearings and finds the Dogg drawling "liar, liar, pants on fire"; or the closing 'Y'All Gonna Miss Me', which brings some much needed introspection and thoughtfulness to the table - where the laziness is replaced by confidence, where the sparkle seems to be back in his eye. But the lion's share of these 17 tracks are taken up with meaningless soliloquies on the subjects of bitches, hos, playas, hustlas and niggas. It's a joyless listen - and a crying shame. Snoop, and his fans, deserve far better.
