Snoop Dogg rolls through show at House of Blues

Spencer Patterson

Monday, Jan. 24, 2005 | 8:20 a.m.

Seemingly, each time one of the venue's sentries spotted someone smoking the stuff and advised him to put it out, three more in the sold-out crowd of 1,800 would light up.

When the night's headliner did likewise, security all but gave up.

"Can we have a moment of silence for this small chronic break?" Snoop Dogg asked, striding to the microphone puffing on a joint. "Anybody got some chronic in here tonight? 'Cause now's the time to blaze up that good (expletive)."

Although the ensuing cloud of pungent smoke created headaches for those not indulging, its presence was hardly unexpected.

Though Snoop (real name: Calvin Broadus) made headlines in 2002 by announcing he had given up marijuana, he later admitted his sobriety lasted just four months. In a recent Rolling Stone interview, the rapper explained that he has cut back from a quarter-pound per day to 2 ounces per day.

More surprising was the relatively ho-hum effort put forth by one of hip-hop's most celebrated veterans, and the similarly lukewarm response from the jam-packed crowd.

Snoop arrived onstage nearly an hour late -- eliciting loud choruses of boos from sections of the audience -- then performed for just 65 minutes, sauntering off without a single encore.

Backed by a six-piece band, a DJ and another MC (identified as his cousin, Superfly), the 32-year-old Long Beach, Calif., native played or sampled from most of his biggest hits, including "What's My Name?," "Gin & Juice" and "Beautiful."

Decked out in a light blue track suit with a ski cap, and later a hair net, the lanky Snoop Dogg branched out with a tribute to slain label-mate Tupac Shakur and a cover of 50 Cent's "P.I.M.P."

Snoop's rhymes were characteristically laid back and smooth, even if they were occasionally tough to make out over the ruckus created by his musicians.

But most of the time, it seemed as if the entire event was more about Snoop Dogg the personality than Snoop Dogg the rapper.

The crowd cheered more for every shimmy from Snoop's hips or each "shizzle" from his lips than for any of his songs.

When he asked fans to wave their hands from side to side, or attempted some call-and-response, less than half the room participated. And for his part, Snoop didn't seem to care much either.

Snoop's Uncle June Bug -- who spent the entire show dancing goofily at the foot of the stage -- appeared to garner more attention than his nephew's music.

Even the set's clear-cut highlight, a seamless transition from one Dr. Dre collaboration, "Deep Cover," into another, "Nuthin' But a 'G' Thang," met with surprisingly little reaction from the audience.

A few adventurous souls attempted to tongue-click along to Snoop's current hit, "Drop it Like It's Hot," but even that chart-topping single failed to whip the room into the expected frenzy.

Perhaps the crowd's standoffish attitude explained Snoop's somewhat listless performance.

Then again, maybe it was something he smoked.