Eminem is the invisible superstar, a hermetically-sealed rapper who sells tens of millions of records while seeming increasingly disconnected from wider culture. Where contemporaries Kanye and Jay Z feel vividly plugged into the outside world, Eminem is a guy alone on an island, with only his fears, frustrations and prejudices for company.
With each record he seems to look ever deeper inwards – all he has to rap about is himself and if that makes his music powerfully confessional, it also imbues it with an air of hot-house paranoia. He’s the dude at the party who’s just cornered you in the hallway and spent 40 minutes giving you his potted biography. Interesting story bro but, seriously, can we talk about something else?
Recorded in secret with Beastie Boys/Chili Peppers producer Rick Rubin, this ‘sequel’ to his 2000’s break out Marshall Mathers LP is self-absorbed to the point of claustrophobia. Indeed, it would be almost unlistenable were it not for the virtuosity of Mathers’ rapping and his astonishing dexterity as a lyricist. Essentially he’s engaging in the musical version of keepy-uppy – tossing words in the air and making them dance. It’s all showboating and embellishment and yet he’s so good at it, your attention never wanders.
Collaborations are at a minimum: Rihanna surfaces for some pop-vixen cooing on ‘The Monster’, as does Skylar Grey on ‘The Kid’. The only cameo of note, however, is Kendrick Lamar, signed to Eminem’s Aftermath Records, who goes toe to toe with his mentor on ‘Love Game’. Furious and frenetic, it’s easily the standout on an LP, which appears to be having a heated conversation with itself for much of its 78 minutes.
Eminem has much of interest to say but his palpable unwillingness to deal with the outside world does him few favours. Aged 41, it’s admirable he still has fire in his belly. Nonetheless, he was so much more compelling as the potty-mouthed prankster who used to fling random insults at other pop stars. You wonder if that Eminem is ever coming back?