Published on Mar 10, 2003
I have a couple of incredibly self-absorbed friends. They’re of
the artistic type. The majority of the conversation revolves around
either themselves or their work. Everyone has friends like that.
All they want to talk about are their families, their jobs,
themselves. As a self-absorbed person, this is incredibly annoying.
But some self-absorbed friends can actually back up their talk:
their conversations may revolve around completely around
themselves, but they make the story and delivery so arresting that
you don’t care that they just spent 50 minutes talking about how
great they are and how people constantly dog them because of petty
jealousy.
Enter Eminem.
In the age of paranoia and uncertainty, Eminem’s ability to
shock just isn’t as present as it used to be. Shit, real-life is
currently more terrifying than anything on Eminem’s latest album,
The Eminem Show. Eminem would be gone the way of Insane
Clown Posse if he just relied on his ability to shock. And unlike
other self-absorbed artists (be it rappers or emo-boys), Eminem’s
albums usually contain full emotional spectrums: one song is
misogynistic, boastful and blaring, another song is a razor-sharp
critique of hip-hop culture that would have been at home on NPR’s
Morning Edition.
Yeah, Eminem does a lot of talking about himself, but oh, what
great topics to discuss. Why does a successful white rapper sell
almost three times as many albums as the most successful black
rapper? Why did people go after Eminem for his homophobic comments
but barely raise an eyebrow when the Wu-Tang-Clan did the same
thing? Shouldn’t standards be equal in the entertainment industry,
regardless of race? All these questions were addressed in the
opening track, “White America.” We have 19 more tracks, and if
you’re even in the least bit interested in Eminem, you’re glued to
the headphones. And why is it that music fans be so empty without
him (“Without Me”)?
Eminem covers a ton of ground in
The Eminem Show. In the final song, “My Dad’s Gone Crazy,”
he sympathizes for the oppressed, impoverished people of
Afghanistan (“blow everything fuckin’ thing ‘cept Afghanistan on
the map off”), expresses his undying love for his daughter by
giving her some air time on a very high-profile album, makes one of
the most outrageous and inappropriate analogies in a song (“more
pain inside of my brain than in the eyes of a girl inside of a
plane, aimed at the World Trade”) and he still has enough time to
come out of the closet (good for him!).
Some parts of
The Eminem Show succumb to the worst of clichés in
rap, such as unfunny skits and an obligatory song about the perils
of STD’s (
Rolling Stone was right: Ice Cube’s song, “Look Who’s
Burnin'” still reins as the ultimate song regarding a visit to the
free clinic). The strange phenomenon about the worst elements of
The Eminem Show is that all of the weakest parts of the
album come when Eminem is not addressing topics dealing with
him.
The Eminem Show was primarily produced by Eminem with Dr.
Dre serving as executive producer. It’s a slight move by Eminem to
distance himself from just being a protégé to Dre,
but still keeping his ties close. The result is Eminem’s most
“rocking” album. Rap purists may dis the album as being too metal
or rock, but history shows that some of the best rap albums (
Raising Hell,
It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back) had plenty of
rock in them.
Like the series
24, you leave
The Eminem Show feeling rejuvenated and breathless. At the
same time, you feel a bit fearful about the future of the product:
where does Eminem go from here? How much further can he look within
himself before it gets old? How many more times can he rip open the
wounds of his childhood before it starts to become a novelty?
That’s Eminem’s problem, not ours, however. In the meantime, stop
worrying about how he will one-up himself and enjoy
The Eminem Show for what it’s worth. It’s an album that is
so complex and dense that Eminem can take a five-year absence and
the album could still be capable of revealing surprises.