Judge shock value as you will. Eminem is in character, right? The Marshall Mathers cycle that transforms him into the twisted persona of Slim Shady has already been well-documented, and on Relapse, after fighting several addictions and serving stints in rehab, Mathers emerges on the other side just shy of replenished. But the album is called Relapse, so you know what’s going to happen. And after a nightmare with Dr. West, he wakes up in the middle of the night and before long, he is Slim once again, recalling past grotesqueries in the form of rape, murder and general bloody mayhem, and fantasizing about what he would like to do to up the ante even further. Complaining about homophobia, misogyny, violence and sadism at this point is moot: we’re familiar with Eminem’s antics by now. But a few clever wordplay choices and triple rhyme soliloquies only work when it’s fun, and it’s just not. It’s depressing.
Which isn’t to say that the shocking diatribes are too far-gone. They’re simply tedious, relentless and repetitive. We know his issues with his mom, wife/ex-wife/wife again/ex-wife again, and just women in general. We realize that Slim is merely a character through which he can vent rage and clown the typical list of celebutantes. But this sort of oppressively dark comedy forgot to be funny, and intermittent hostility is preferable to the exhaustive brand, so for roughly two-thirds of the seventy-five minute running time, Eminem is simply spitting profanity for the sake of, again, shock value.
He practically sounds like a kitten when discussing masturbating to Miley Cyrus and sticking foreign objects up Kim Kardashian’s behind because the rest of “3am” is quite literally soaked in blood. The weird fantasy/nightmare scenario of being sexually assaulted by his stepfather in “Insane” goes way beyond uncomfortable. Talking about felching proves the over-the-top position but these characteristics don’t sit well next to terrifyingly realistic depictions of child molestation later on in the third verse. And “Bagpipes from Baghdad” is little more than an effortless attack on Mariah Carey and Nick Cannon, and the chorus returns of Baghdad and its bagpipes make no logical sense. Entertainment or embarrassment? That’s the listener’s call, naturally, but the listener deserves better.
Em stalks and kills Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan on “Same Song and Dance,” which is an appropriate title since he’s saying nothing new against the soft targets. I wondered briefly if it was metaphorical—that the “narrator” was personified, and was in fact the same booze and pills that haunted Eminem (and clearly had a negative effect on the starlets’ lives as well). But there’s no hint of that beyond wild theory; I think he’s just enjoying trashing vapid celebrities, the same old song and dance. It’s not even insulting to see him mock the late Christopher Reeve since there’s so little weight to back up his phrasing.
Armed with undeniably strong flow and a sense for out-of-meter rhyme schemes, there’s no doubt that Eminem has the brains to back up the brashness. But the “character” defense isn’t working anymore. I’m not necessarily offended, but he’s offering blood without the meat. Asking for the psychological trauma may be wanting too much, but all there is to glean from most of these offerings is that the pills fucked him up and he’s back to his old sociopathic tricks. Luckily, respite comes late in the LP when he finally offers up more than tiresome, sadistic mockups.
“Medicine Ball” sums up the wayward appeal of this album. Running through another laundry list of shocking topics (rape, abortion, etc.), he announces on the chorus that “it’s time for you to hate me again.” And in the second verse, he deflects shallow criticism of his surface agenda by saying, “I never meant this rhyme to be so offensive/If you weren’t so defensive it wouldn’t be, you’re so sensitive.” But just because this track delegates a violent enthusiasm beyond mere performance anxiety doesn’t mean it makes up for the exasperating misogyny and brutality found throughout. A shame, too, because with the unpredictably solid production and catchy spacing pattern on the beat during the chorus, it’s actually a pretty solid cut. Wish more were like it.
Later on, he successfully details his addiction problems on “Déjà Vu.” “Underground” has some devilish fun sending up a variety of horror movie slashers (though I’m not sure why Edward Scissorhands is in there). Then there’s “Beautiful”; as a relatively uplifting track featuring a generous message and actual singing, it feels out of place in the proceedings. On the outro, he says, “Be proud of who you are, and even if it sounds corny, don’t ever let anyone tell you you ain’t beautiful.” Corny is debatable, but it’s hard to take him at face value considering the vile things that preceded it. Nevertheless, it’s another small winner in spite of the angry broil between refrain lines: “It don’t matter saying you ain’t beautiful/They can all get fucked, just stay true to you.” Guess the antagonism dies hard. But immediately following that song up with Slim bragging about seventeen rapes, four hundred assaults and a quartet of murders just leaves a bad taste in the mouth.
Production-wise, Dr. Dre is involved in all but one of the tracks, and he brings little more than static, metallic beats that rarely change in tempo or force. But Eminem is a force himself, one of nature and willpower, and he can sound as compelling freestyle as he does over anything suped up in the studio. That is, he can, even if he doesn’t bother to do much all that noteworthy here. I won’t even trash his controversial new nasal inflection, but when he bothers with accents to sound Scottish, Arabic, etc., he just comes off sounding like the sort of inane pranksters he once trashed (i.e., Tom Green). And amidst all of the vividly maladjusted and deplorable brutality, if Eminem can’t be funny, then the act can’t be tolerated. Needing an editor and a therapist goes without saying, but right now he needs better inspiration and more original ideas. I hope the sequel can bring some closure to this mostly meaningless endeavor.
"Relapse" is on sale May 19, 2009 from Aftermath.
