Listening to Kiss, I’m sometimes get
that the impression that the real Eminem died of a heroin overdose sometime
after the recording of Encore, and his albums since then have
been the product of an imperfect lookalike. I mean,
he’s still putting out songs that chronicle his twisted relationship with
the human race, but it’s like listening to a tribute
act or something. Take the following: ‘A one night stand is all he wants / With a
female fan / Yeah a one night stand / And he’s talking about a one night stand /
Yeah his bedroom has two lamps and only one night stand / Get the hint?’
Eminem has never been a stone-faced rapper like 50
Cent but, here, he’s making
puns that might slip into an afternoon show on Radio 4,
immoral topic notwithstanding. It’s like I’m hearing someone that has
studied Eminem back to front, and knows that
sometimes he raps about dragging his ex-wife to the woods and cutting
her throat, and sometimes he makes fart
jokes. He knows this, but can’t make the pieces gel.
In contrast, once upon a Marshall Mathers
LP, Eminem had a sure hand for bringing a gag to a violent narrative.
Perhaps this explains the furious pace of
rapping Eminem has adopted since Encore. On much of Hell, he’s spitting so fast it’s
amazing his tongue doesn’t combust. But I get the
feeling that he’s making up for something. Like to compensate for latent insecurities
about his lyrics, Eminem has focused on technical skill. Or even, because
he can’t admit to himself how bad this stuff is compared to the Marshall
Mathers LP, he raps as quick as possible, just to get it done
with.
