(The Root) — When 1992 began, Dr. Dre’s reputation was anything but secure. It may be hard to recall a point at which Dre wasn’t seen as godly. But at that point, releasing his first solo album, The Chronic, seemed risky, especially with its roster of newcomer rappers, including Daz, the Lady of Rage and a lanky, drawling emcee from Long Beach, Calif., comically named Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Pre-Chronic Dr. Dre was still inextricably tied to his former group N.W.A., but in jumping ship to the then-unknown Death Row Records, more than a few thought Dre might be committing career suicide. At the very least, the snarks among us kept joking about how Dre went from proclaiming, on N.W.A.’s 1988 “Express Yourself,” “I don’t smoke weed or cess,” to naming his solo debut after the sticky icky.
Moreover, when Dre dropped “Nuthin’ but a ‘G’ Thing” in that ’92 summer, the ashes of April’s rebellion/riots in Los Angeles had barely cooled. That made Dre’s former N.W.A. partner, Ice Cube, the man of the moment, having so prophetically given voice to the anger and frustrations that eventually roiled the Southland beginning April 29 of that year.
Cube had metaphorically laid waste to Dre and his ex-bandmates just a year before with his legendary dis track, “No Vaseline”; surely ’92 would be Cube’s victory lap. Yet, in the aftermath of the rebellion came a new set of sensibilities, which allowed The Chronic, released 20 years ago on Dec. 15, 1992, to bloom in ways few may have predicted.
The oft-forgotten detail that helped pave this path wasn’t the riots but what preceded them by several weeks: the gang truce between the Crips and Bloods. For all the violence wrought during the uprising, what followed could be described as a kind of cathartic afterglow, sustained by the (temporary) cessation of hostilities between two of L.A.’s fiercest factions.
Just as the early-1970s gang truce in the South Bronx, N.Y., helped create the conditions in which the proto-hip-hop party scene there could flourish, in Los Angeles, the post-riots, truce environment was also ripe for elation. Could there have been a more perfect summer soundtrack for that moment than “Nuthin’ but a ‘G’ Thing”?
Twenty years later and the song, like much of The Chronic, remains a pristine example of pop production. It opens with that distinctive rattle, the downstroke of the bass line, the anchoring keyboard riff borrowed from Leon Haywood and, perhaps most memorable, the sinuous synthesizers that slink in after two bars. With their piercing whine, the synths gave the song and album a particular sonic signature, one that evokes giants of the 1970s funk era such as the Ohio Players and Isley Brothers. Combined with Snoop’s languid flow, both song and album are laid-back yet also subtly sinister, presenting Dre’s take on the endless summer.