It's May 14, 2024, 08:26:42 PM
Kinda sorta ot:Anyone else remember reading that rumor that dre was actually done with detox in around 03-04 but all the ghost producers got together and took a stand against dre stealing their beats and that's what eventually led to detox being pushed back so much? Now I have no inside sources or anything but on the outside looking in, sounds pretty believable when you consider...1. The source article about neff-u, big chuck, melman, etc leaving and forming their own music group cuz they were tired of not being credited for their work2. Dre has officially released 2 singles from detox and neither of them were produced by dreHmmm
Nah hollywood I've always agreed with what you said. Suge was very necessary. His mistakes were bringing too many niggas and unnecessary drama to the table, and turning his back on dre. But as we see from aftermath, dre as a ceo doesn't get much done. But when suge was on his game the whole west got to eat. You could even see that when he tried to rebuild Tha Row, but by then he was already eternally blackballed.
A freaky drum track pumps from the giant studio speakers, and Dre, headphones on, hunches over his turntables as intently as a neurosurgeon, surrounded by hundreds of records: Three Times Dope, early Funkadelic, Prince's Dirty Mind, even a tattered Jim Croce LP.Listening to a Dre beat take shape in the studio is like watching a snowball roll downhill in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, taking on mass as it goes. Dre may find something he likes from an old drum break, loop it and gradually replace each part with a better tom-tom sound, a kick-drum sound he adores, until the beat bears the same relationship to the original that the Incredible Hulk does to Bill Bixby.A bass player wanders in, unpacks his instrument and pops a funky two-note bass line over the beat, then leaves to watch CNN, though his two notes keep looping into infinity. A smiling guy in a striped jersey plays a nasty one-fingered melody on an old Mini-Moog synthesizer that's been obsolete since 1982, and Dre scratches in a sort of surfadelic munching noise, and then from his well-stocked Akai MPC60 sample comes a shriek, a spare piano chord, an ejaculation from the first Beastie's record -- "Let me clear my throat" -- and the many-layered groove is happening, bumping, breathing, almost loud enough to see.Snoop floats into the room. He closes his eyes as if in a dream and extends both hands toward Dre, palms downward. Dre holds out his hands, and Snoop grazes his fingertips with a butterfly flourish, caught up in the ecstasy of the beat. Somebody hands Snoop a yellow legal pad. The rapper wanders over to the main mixing console, fishes a skinny joint out of his pocket and tenderly fires it up. He inhales deeply. He picks up a pencil and scribbles a couple of words before he decides to draw instead, and he fills the sheet in front of him with thick, black lines. He looks around the room for something more interesting to do than draw, and his sly canine leer settles on a visitor to the studio."You like this beat?" Snoop asks. "Think it's going to work? I think I'm going to call this one 'Eat a Dick,' about all the punk-ass niggaz who ain't down with the Row."Daz and Snoop, who have heard this before, convulse into laughter.Daz and Snoop and Kurupt slouch over their legal pads, peeking over each others' shoulders like the kids cheating on an exam. Daz gets to practice his new rap in a back corner away from the others; Kurupt wheels his chair over toward Snoop and says, "I've got the shit, man. I've got the crazy shit." Snoop listens to his friend rap for a bit, shrugs and goes back to his own rhyme. Kurupt is crushed. Dre comes in from the lounge, twists a few knobs on the Moog and comes up with the synthesizer sound so familiar from The Chronic, almost on pitch but not quite, sliding a bit between notes.Tomorrow, Dre will throw away this Doggy Dogg beat and start on another."Did you see," Dre asks, "all those reels that are in the studio?"They are unavoidable, piled up as thickly as an adobe wall."There's 35 or 36 reels of Snoop in there," Dre says. "Each reel holds three songs. So far, I have five that I like. That's just a small example of how ... how deep I'm going into this album. I feel that the tracks that I'm doing for him right now are the future of the funk.
Every Dre track begins the same way, with Dre behind a drum machine in a room full of trusted musicians. (They carry beepers. When he wants to work, they work.) He'll program a beat, then ask the musicians to play along; when Dre hears something he likes, he isolates the player and tells him how to refine the sound. "My greatest talent," Dre says, "is knowing exactly what I want to hear."Truck Volume, a track for The Wash, began with a Dre beat and an eerie keyboard riff played on an old Vox V-305 organ. ("I was watching VH1--The Doors: Behind the Music," he says, by way of explanation.) Dre then added layers of strings. Everyone from Eminem to Madonna has been known to beg Dre for tracks, but the Doctor decides who gets his music based entirely on feel. Truck Volume, with its exaggerated haunted-house vibe, seemed like a good fit for the exuberantly hoarse rapper Busta Rhymes. "Busta just sounds crazy to me," Dre says.Rhymes recorded his vocals a few days ago. Now Dre is icing the cake, playing the track from beginning to end dozens of times, nodding his head to the rhythm and making tiny adjustments as he goes. "More reverb here," he says. The technician tweaks the reverb on a two-second patch of Rhymes' voice. The track plays again. "Now it sounds like he's in the Grand Canyon." When the level is adjusted to his satisfaction, Dre calls Rhymes in New York. "I don't think we should add any more to it. Nah. All the breakdowns and all the instruments sound full enough. I'll call you if there are any changes." Dre hangs up, listens to the song one more time and tells the technician, "Put that on a CD real quick. Let me listen to it in my truck."Hard on the Boulevard, a track on which Dre raps with Snoop Dogg, is the first single from The Wash. The video is supposed to shoot in two days. The track isn't finished yet. Dre is also working on a song for No Doubt, due next week, and on tracks for his next solo album, Detox, which he'd like to release in 2002. He seems unconcerned.Dre has asked a male singer named Cocaine to come in and rework some of his vocals on the Boulevard chorus. Dre doesn't feel that the song is properly layered yet. "One of the things I like most about producing is recording vocals," he says. "I like instructing people, but I'm also trying to bring out a good performance, so I work with them--encourage them." When Cocaine arrives, Dre plays the track. Even though Cocaine is a relative unknown ("He must not want to get his stuff on anybody's station, naming himself Cocaine," says Dre) and Dre is the top producer in the game, he is enthusiastic, even sweet, in explaining what he's looking for. When it appears Cocaine is not getting it, Dre sings the part, revealing perfect pitch and a surprisingly nice voice. Cocaine listens to him, nods his head and starts warming up his pipes.
unless youre brand new to Death Row then u should already know Daz and Warren and others produced Doggystyle and The Chronic. Even if youre brand new to tha game u already know Dr. Dre uses a coproducer on all of his beats. Even if youve been in a diabetic coma for a quarter century u know that Suge is an jackass in real life. None of this is news.
More insight into Dre's production process. From an old Rolling Stone interviewhttp://web.archive.org/web/20080506072416/http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/drdre/articles/story/5937496/cover_story_day_of_the_dreQuoteA freaky drum track pumps from the giant studio speakers, and Dre, headphones on, hunches over his turntables as intently as a neurosurgeon, surrounded by hundreds of records: Three Times Dope, early Funkadelic, Prince's Dirty Mind, even a tattered Jim Croce LP.Listening to a Dre beat take shape in the studio is like watching a snowball roll downhill in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, taking on mass as it goes. Dre may find something he likes from an old drum break, loop it and gradually replace each part with a better tom-tom sound, a kick-drum sound he adores, until the beat bears the same relationship to the original that the Incredible Hulk does to Bill Bixby.A bass player wanders in, unpacks his instrument and pops a funky two-note bass line over the beat, then leaves to watch CNN, though his two notes keep looping into infinity. A smiling guy in a striped jersey plays a nasty one-fingered melody on an old Mini-Moog synthesizer that's been obsolete since 1982, and Dre scratches in a sort of surfadelic munching noise, and then from his well-stocked Akai MPC60 sample comes a shriek, a spare piano chord, an ejaculation from the first Beastie's record -- "Let me clear my throat" -- and the many-layered groove is happening, bumping, breathing, almost loud enough to see.Snoop floats into the room. He closes his eyes as if in a dream and extends both hands toward Dre, palms downward. Dre holds out his hands, and Snoop grazes his fingertips with a butterfly flourish, caught up in the ecstasy of the beat. Somebody hands Snoop a yellow legal pad. The rapper wanders over to the main mixing console, fishes a skinny joint out of his pocket and tenderly fires it up. He inhales deeply. He picks up a pencil and scribbles a couple of words before he decides to draw instead, and he fills the sheet in front of him with thick, black lines. He looks around the room for something more interesting to do than draw, and his sly canine leer settles on a visitor to the studio."You like this beat?" Snoop asks. "Think it's going to work? I think I'm going to call this one 'Eat a Dick,' about all the punk-ass niggaz who ain't down with the Row."Daz and Snoop, who have heard this before, convulse into laughter.Daz and Snoop and Kurupt slouch over their legal pads, peeking over each others' shoulders like the kids cheating on an exam. Daz gets to practice his new rap in a back corner away from the others; Kurupt wheels his chair over toward Snoop and says, "I've got the shit, man. I've got the crazy shit." Snoop listens to his friend rap for a bit, shrugs and goes back to his own rhyme. Kurupt is crushed. Dre comes in from the lounge, twists a few knobs on the Moog and comes up with the synthesizer sound so familiar from The Chronic, almost on pitch but not quite, sliding a bit between notes.Tomorrow, Dre will throw away this Doggy Dogg beat and start on another."Did you see," Dre asks, "all those reels that are in the studio?"They are unavoidable, piled up as thickly as an adobe wall."There's 35 or 36 reels of Snoop in there," Dre says. "Each reel holds three songs. So far, I have five that I like. That's just a small example of how ... how deep I'm going into this album. I feel that the tracks that I'm doing for him right now are the future of the funk.From a Time interviewhttp://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1000775-3,00.htmlQuoteEvery Dre track begins the same way, with Dre behind a drum machine in a room full of trusted musicians. (They carry beepers. When he wants to work, they work.) He'll program a beat, then ask the musicians to play along; when Dre hears something he likes, he isolates the player and tells him how to refine the sound. "My greatest talent," Dre says, "is knowing exactly what I want to hear."Truck Volume, a track for The Wash, began with a Dre beat and an eerie keyboard riff played on an old Vox V-305 organ. ("I was watching VH1--The Doors: Behind the Music," he says, by way of explanation.) Dre then added layers of strings. Everyone from Eminem to Madonna has been known to beg Dre for tracks, but the Doctor decides who gets his music based entirely on feel. Truck Volume, with its exaggerated haunted-house vibe, seemed like a good fit for the exuberantly hoarse rapper Busta Rhymes. "Busta just sounds crazy to me," Dre says.Rhymes recorded his vocals a few days ago. Now Dre is icing the cake, playing the track from beginning to end dozens of times, nodding his head to the rhythm and making tiny adjustments as he goes. "More reverb here," he says. The technician tweaks the reverb on a two-second patch of Rhymes' voice. The track plays again. "Now it sounds like he's in the Grand Canyon." When the level is adjusted to his satisfaction, Dre calls Rhymes in New York. "I don't think we should add any more to it. Nah. All the breakdowns and all the instruments sound full enough. I'll call you if there are any changes." Dre hangs up, listens to the song one more time and tells the technician, "Put that on a CD real quick. Let me listen to it in my truck."Hard on the Boulevard, a track on which Dre raps with Snoop Dogg, is the first single from The Wash. The video is supposed to shoot in two days. The track isn't finished yet. Dre is also working on a song for No Doubt, due next week, and on tracks for his next solo album, Detox, which he'd like to release in 2002. He seems unconcerned.Dre has asked a male singer named Cocaine to come in and rework some of his vocals on the Boulevard chorus. Dre doesn't feel that the song is properly layered yet. "One of the things I like most about producing is recording vocals," he says. "I like instructing people, but I'm also trying to bring out a good performance, so I work with them--encourage them." When Cocaine arrives, Dre plays the track. Even though Cocaine is a relative unknown ("He must not want to get his stuff on anybody's station, naming himself Cocaine," says Dre) and Dre is the top producer in the game, he is enthusiastic, even sweet, in explaining what he's looking for. When it appears Cocaine is not getting it, Dre sings the part, revealing perfect pitch and a surprisingly nice voice. Cocaine listens to him, nods his head and starts warming up his pipes.I remember this read..its dope cause the interviewer guided us threw the whole making of(A NIGGA WITH A GUN)from the chronic lp.classic read.
Quote from: Cross Em Out on June 13, 2011, 04:47:12 AMMore insight into Dre's production process. From an old Rolling Stone interviewhttp://web.archive.org/web/20080506072416/http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/drdre/articles/story/5937496/cover_story_day_of_the_dreQuoteA freaky drum track pumps from the giant studio speakers, and Dre, headphones on, hunches over his turntables as intently as a neurosurgeon, surrounded by hundreds of records: Three Times Dope, early Funkadelic, Prince's Dirty Mind, even a tattered Jim Croce LP.Listening to a Dre beat take shape in the studio is like watching a snowball roll downhill in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, taking on mass as it goes. Dre may find something he likes from an old drum break, loop it and gradually replace each part with a better tom-tom sound, a kick-drum sound he adores, until the beat bears the same relationship to the original that the Incredible Hulk does to Bill Bixby.A bass player wanders in, unpacks his instrument and pops a funky two-note bass line over the beat, then leaves to watch CNN, though his two notes keep looping into infinity. A smiling guy in a striped jersey plays a nasty one-fingered melody on an old Mini-Moog synthesizer that's been obsolete since 1982, and Dre scratches in a sort of surfadelic munching noise, and then from his well-stocked Akai MPC60 sample comes a shriek, a spare piano chord, an ejaculation from the first Beastie's record -- "Let me clear my throat" -- and the many-layered groove is happening, bumping, breathing, almost loud enough to see.Snoop floats into the room. He closes his eyes as if in a dream and extends both hands toward Dre, palms downward. Dre holds out his hands, and Snoop grazes his fingertips with a butterfly flourish, caught up in the ecstasy of the beat. Somebody hands Snoop a yellow legal pad. The rapper wanders over to the main mixing console, fishes a skinny joint out of his pocket and tenderly fires it up. He inhales deeply. He picks up a pencil and scribbles a couple of words before he decides to draw instead, and he fills the sheet in front of him with thick, black lines. He looks around the room for something more interesting to do than draw, and his sly canine leer settles on a visitor to the studio."You like this beat?" Snoop asks. "Think it's going to work? I think I'm going to call this one 'Eat a Dick,' about all the punk-ass niggaz who ain't down with the Row."Daz and Snoop, who have heard this before, convulse into laughter.Daz and Snoop and Kurupt slouch over their legal pads, peeking over each others' shoulders like the kids cheating on an exam. Daz gets to practice his new rap in a back corner away from the others; Kurupt wheels his chair over toward Snoop and says, "I've got the shit, man. I've got the crazy shit." Snoop listens to his friend rap for a bit, shrugs and goes back to his own rhyme. Kurupt is crushed. Dre comes in from the lounge, twists a few knobs on the Moog and comes up with the synthesizer sound so familiar from The Chronic, almost on pitch but not quite, sliding a bit between notes.Tomorrow, Dre will throw away this Doggy Dogg beat and start on another."Did you see," Dre asks, "all those reels that are in the studio?"They are unavoidable, piled up as thickly as an adobe wall."There's 35 or 36 reels of Snoop in there," Dre says. "Each reel holds three songs. So far, I have five that I like. That's just a small example of how ... how deep I'm going into this album. I feel that the tracks that I'm doing for him right now are the future of the funk.From a Time interviewhttp://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1000775-3,00.htmlQuoteEvery Dre track begins the same way, with Dre behind a drum machine in a room full of trusted musicians. (They carry beepers. When he wants to work, they work.) He'll program a beat, then ask the musicians to play along; when Dre hears something he likes, he isolates the player and tells him how to refine the sound. "My greatest talent," Dre says, "is knowing exactly what I want to hear."Truck Volume, a track for The Wash, began with a Dre beat and an eerie keyboard riff played on an old Vox V-305 organ. ("I was watching VH1--The Doors: Behind the Music," he says, by way of explanation.) Dre then added layers of strings. Everyone from Eminem to Madonna has been known to beg Dre for tracks, but the Doctor decides who gets his music based entirely on feel. Truck Volume, with its exaggerated haunted-house vibe, seemed like a good fit for the exuberantly hoarse rapper Busta Rhymes. "Busta just sounds crazy to me," Dre says.Rhymes recorded his vocals a few days ago. Now Dre is icing the cake, playing the track from beginning to end dozens of times, nodding his head to the rhythm and making tiny adjustments as he goes. "More reverb here," he says. The technician tweaks the reverb on a two-second patch of Rhymes' voice. The track plays again. "Now it sounds like he's in the Grand Canyon." When the level is adjusted to his satisfaction, Dre calls Rhymes in New York. "I don't think we should add any more to it. Nah. All the breakdowns and all the instruments sound full enough. I'll call you if there are any changes." Dre hangs up, listens to the song one more time and tells the technician, "Put that on a CD real quick. Let me listen to it in my truck."Hard on the Boulevard, a track on which Dre raps with Snoop Dogg, is the first single from The Wash. The video is supposed to shoot in two days. The track isn't finished yet. Dre is also working on a song for No Doubt, due next week, and on tracks for his next solo album, Detox, which he'd like to release in 2002. He seems unconcerned.Dre has asked a male singer named Cocaine to come in and rework some of his vocals on the Boulevard chorus. Dre doesn't feel that the song is properly layered yet. "One of the things I like most about producing is recording vocals," he says. "I like instructing people, but I'm also trying to bring out a good performance, so I work with them--encourage them." When Cocaine arrives, Dre plays the track. Even though Cocaine is a relative unknown ("He must not want to get his stuff on anybody's station, naming himself Cocaine," says Dre) and Dre is the top producer in the game, he is enthusiastic, even sweet, in explaining what he's looking for. When it appears Cocaine is not getting it, Dre sings the part, revealing perfect pitch and a surprisingly nice voice. Cocaine listens to him, nods his head and starts warming up his pipes.I remember this read..its dope cause the interviewer guided us threw the whole making of(A NIGGA WITH A GUN)from the chronic lp.classic read. my bad fellas..the guided us threw some tracks for (Doggy style..bless.