Let’s be honest, Eminem is on his way out because of his failure to successfully reinvent himself. A megastar of hip hop over the last 10+ years, Eminem’s ability on the mic has since faded. He is a shell of his former self when it comes to rhyming and should hang it up before he’s forced out of the game.
Eminem burst onto the scene in the late 90’s with The Slim Shady LP, featuring his first big single, “My Name Is.” He was hip hop’s white guy—a little dude from Detroit with a bleach-blonde buzzcut and high-pitched nasal delivery. He became known over the next several years as an unbelievable lyricist with brass balls, taking shots at singers, actors, and politicians alike. The Marshall Mathers LP was recorded in the same light and led to enormous success to the tune of 13-times platinum. Em’s style began to change on the 8 Mile soundtrack, ditching the high, nasal, off-beat delivery and focusing on riding beats much harder. He sounded more mature—a natural part of anyone’s career progression. The new style carried over to his third LP, The Eminem Show, in what I believe is the pinnacle of his career. Em combined social critique with funny meaningless rants and personal tribute with personal remorse, all while supplied with exceptional beats and his best vocal pitch. I wish I could strike his next album, Encore, from the record, but that really happened. Just an awful album with no redeemable tracks. Em disappeared for a while, released a mixtape-turned-album (The Re-Up) with his crew, and recently released his latest project, Relapse.
As vile as Eminem was in his early career, it gave him a sort-of charm and likeability because he joked around so much and people rarely took him seriously. Once he evolved from that and changed his style, we grew with him. On Relapse, Em is doing his best Benjamin Button, trying to age backwards and revert to an old style. Unfortunately, he has failed miserably. His old signature nasal voice has been replaced by a Triumph-the-Insult-Comic-Dog sound-alike, which works for a song but not an entire album. It’s almost as if he is trying to go back to his old style but can’t duplicate it because he’s simply not that rapper anymore. I compare him to Hulk Hogan wrestling in the year 2009. “I am a Real American” blares over the loud speakers as Hulk saunters into the ring sporting the same old yellow and red pants and bleach blonde locks flowing off his nearly bald head. But we know it’s not the real Hulk—Hulk knows it’s not the real Hulk. He just can’t do what he used to be able to do. Same applies to Eminem. The attempt to transform into his old self turned into a drug-induced, off-the-wall, psychopathic rant that begs for attention and controversy. I don’t know Eminem’s rap-sheet off hand, but I haven’t heard of any murders or rapes he’s commited. The album is a modern-day American Psycho where Em’s veins are so drug-laden that he’s actually convinced he’s done all of these things. He’s such a good storyteller that if you didn’t know any better and were hearing his material for the first time, you’d be convinced he’s atop the list of America’s Most Wanted. And if you didn’t get his twisted sense of humor, you’d find his imitation of Christopher Reeves and rhymes about Heath Ledger bobbleheads some of the most offensive lines ever spoken. Like I said, though, the album is full of horror stories that even Eminem wouldn’t carry out. So what is his purpose for recording?
In hip hop today, you either have to be really good, or really bad. If you’re good, you have to be relevant and have an interesting take (see Kanye West). If you’re bad, you have to make pop music and call it hip hop (see Flo Rida) or create a dance to accompany the song (see Soulja Boy). We either want to be stimulated mentally or physically—there’s no room left for rape and murder. It doesn’t sell anymore. And it especially doesn’t sell if it’s not even true. People’s expectations are higher and they demand more for their $9.99. If Eminem is to survive in the hip hop game, he must progress like he did earlier in his career instead of regressing like he has been of late. Otherwise, it might be curtains for the infamous Detroit rapper.
Eminem burst onto the scene in the late 90’s with The Slim Shady LP, featuring his first big single, “My Name Is.” He was hip hop’s white guy—a little dude from Detroit with a bleach-blonde buzzcut and high-pitched nasal delivery. He became known over the next several years as an unbelievable lyricist with brass balls, taking shots at singers, actors, and politicians alike. The Marshall Mathers LP was recorded in the same light and led to enormous success to the tune of 13-times platinum. Em’s style began to change on the 8 Mile soundtrack, ditching the high, nasal, off-beat delivery and focusing on riding beats much harder. He sounded more mature—a natural part of anyone’s career progression. The new style carried over to his third LP, The Eminem Show, in what I believe is the pinnacle of his career. Em combined social critique with funny meaningless rants and personal tribute with personal remorse, all while supplied with exceptional beats and his best vocal pitch. I wish I could strike his next album, Encore, from the record, but that really happened. Just an awful album with no redeemable tracks. Em disappeared for a while, released a mixtape-turned-album (The Re-Up) with his crew, and recently released his latest project, Relapse.
As vile as Eminem was in his early career, it gave him a sort-of charm and likeability because he joked around so much and people rarely took him seriously. Once he evolved from that and changed his style, we grew with him. On Relapse, Em is doing his best Benjamin Button, trying to age backwards and revert to an old style. Unfortunately, he has failed miserably. His old signature nasal voice has been replaced by a Triumph-the-Insult-Comic-Dog sound-alike, which works for a song but not an entire album. It’s almost as if he is trying to go back to his old style but can’t duplicate it because he’s simply not that rapper anymore. I compare him to Hulk Hogan wrestling in the year 2009. “I am a Real American” blares over the loud speakers as Hulk saunters into the ring sporting the same old yellow and red pants and bleach blonde locks flowing off his nearly bald head. But we know it’s not the real Hulk—Hulk knows it’s not the real Hulk. He just can’t do what he used to be able to do. Same applies to Eminem. The attempt to transform into his old self turned into a drug-induced, off-the-wall, psychopathic rant that begs for attention and controversy. I don’t know Eminem’s rap-sheet off hand, but I haven’t heard of any murders or rapes he’s commited. The album is a modern-day American Psycho where Em’s veins are so drug-laden that he’s actually convinced he’s done all of these things. He’s such a good storyteller that if you didn’t know any better and were hearing his material for the first time, you’d be convinced he’s atop the list of America’s Most Wanted. And if you didn’t get his twisted sense of humor, you’d find his imitation of Christopher Reeves and rhymes about Heath Ledger bobbleheads some of the most offensive lines ever spoken. Like I said, though, the album is full of horror stories that even Eminem wouldn’t carry out. So what is his purpose for recording?
In hip hop today, you either have to be really good, or really bad. If you’re good, you have to be relevant and have an interesting take (see Kanye West). If you’re bad, you have to make pop music and call it hip hop (see Flo Rida) or create a dance to accompany the song (see Soulja Boy). We either want to be stimulated mentally or physically—there’s no room left for rape and murder. It doesn’t sell anymore. And it especially doesn’t sell if it’s not even true. People’s expectations are higher and they demand more for their $9.99. If Eminem is to survive in the hip hop game, he must progress like he did earlier in his career instead of regressing like he has been of late. Otherwise, it might be curtains for the infamous Detroit rapper.
