While Kid Rock, another white rapper from Detroit, crossed over to rock and roll and country music, Eminem worked to establish hip-hop bona fides, taking his musical cues from Dr. In “Hailie’s Song,” a song for his six-year-old daughter, he says, “I feel like singing,” and that’s what he does, crooning (and sometimes screaming) a stirring ballad about fatherly love: “My baby girl keeps getting older, I watch her grow up with pride.” Later, on “My Dad’s Gone Crazy,” he brags about his “brains, brawn, and brass balls,” while Hailie giggles, “You’re funny, Daddy.”īecause he’s a white rapper, Eminem has been lumped in with the rock-rap movement, but he has generally shied away from the music. (“I was made to believe I was sick when I wasn’t!” he tells us.) He also tries out a new role: caring father. (“The Marshall Mathers LP” included a brutal homicidal fantasy about her.) Now he brags about his divorce from Kim and attempts to settle the score with his mother by offering incriminating details about his childhood. Some of these characters are familiar previous albums introduced us to Eminem’s mother, Debbie, and his wife, Kim. It’s his show, and he’s playing all the roles: persecuted celebrity, eager star, shrewd producer.
The booklet accompanying the CD is filled with photographs that look like surveillance footage, complete with date and time: we see him taking out the trash, writing rhymes at his kitchen table, and even, on the front cover, behind a stage curtain, ready to step up to a microphone.
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On earlier albums, he turned his life into a cartoon, starring “regular guy” Marshall Mathers (Eminem’s real name) and his “crazy” alter ego, Slim Shady he even created an animated series called “The Slim Shady Show.” Now he seems to be trying to turn the cartoon into a life. Luckily, the rapper has found a new victim, someone who can give as good as he gets: himself.
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He has to comment on the attacks of September 11th, so he compares himself to the terrorists-“There’s no plane that I can’t learn how to fly.” If Eminem wants to remain Public Enemy No. He picks a fight with Moby, the mild-mannered electronica producer, calling him a “thirty-six-year-old baldheaded fag,” and telling him, “It’s over-nobody listens to techno.” (Moby posted a polite response on his Web site: “Eminem has skills as an mc, but it disturbs me that he glorifies homophobia and misogyny in his songs.”) He threatens to beat up Chris Kirkpatrick, from NSYNC, which reveals merely that Eminem is the rare twenty-nine-year-old man who can still name the members of an aging boy band. Eminem’s new album, “The Eminem Show” (Aftermath/Interscope), includes a few digs at mainstream stars, but his foes seem diminished, and so does he. Two years later, tabloid culture isn’t what it used to be, and MTV executives are scrambling to keep “Total Request Live” from slipping in the ratings. “Became a commodity ‘cause I’m W-H-I-T-E / ‘Cause MTV was so friendly to me,” he rapped-and he wasn’t really complaining. He knew that he owed his career to the celebrity industry, knew that his tabloid sensibility was well suited to a tabloid culture, knew that the whole enterprise was built on bad faith. The best part was that Eminem knew his place in this world. There was a series of jabs at Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Will Smith, and NSYNC, which was Eminem’s way of acknowledging that they all inhabited the exuberant universe of “Total Request Live,” the MTV program that screened their music videos back to back before a studio audience of screaming teen-agers. His previous two albums had proved him to be a clever and foulmouthed rapper, but “The Marshall Mathers LP” was his masterpiece, condensing a few years of American culture into seventy-two minutes of tasteless jokes about Bill Clinton and “South Park,” Jennifer Lopez and Christopher Reeve, Gianni Versace’s murder and the Columbine massacre. On May 23, 2000, Eminem released the last great album of the twentieth century.
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