The Marshall Mathers LP was great for a ton of obvious
reasons but one aspect that rarely gets analyzed is how beautifully it
spotlighted Eminem, the then 28-year-old soon-to-be “rap god,” as he
wrestled with his newfound fame.
Particularly on “The Way I Am,” which goes into great detail about
how fame has disrupted Em’s right to privacy (“And I’m thankful for
every fan that I get, but I can’t take a shit in the bathroom without
someone standing by it”), and “Marshall Mathers,” where his self-titled
psychiatrist couch session uncovers the warranted horrors that come with
outgrowing your status.
Especially — ESPECIALLY from a Hip Hop point of view. The culture was
founded on a sense of pride, realism and credibility that would
inevitably have to backseat things once real business savvy came into
play. And Eminem was feeling the brunt when he was just trying to do
him.
“Now these kids diss me and act like some big sissies/ ‘Oh, he just
did some shit with Missy/ So now he thinks he’s too big to do some shit
with MC Get-Bizzy,'” he fumed midway through “Marshall Mathers'”
free-falling vent.
Although the name never became as synonymous with the underground as
“Stan” did with fanatics, Eminem did pay considerable dues alongside the
Get-Bizzys of the world in lieu of the obviousness that his skin color
afforded him a bit of affirmative action within Hip Hop’s stratosphere.
This is a guy whose first album sounds like it was exclusively recorded
on an 8-track tape.
A guy who comfortably nestled alongside a slew of “real” MCs on Sway & King Tech’s heralded
Wake Up Show “Anthem” and also boosted his discography with guest appearances for Rawkus Records’
Soundbombing II compilation, Funkmaster Flex, Shabaam Sahdeeq and several other underground projects. This is a guy who once
admitted he was too nervous to cop a Rolex at a time when his album was fast-tracking towards
diamond status and MTV’s
TRL couldn’t stop talking about him.
Em even joked about the “sellout” accusations during
his 2015 Genius annotating spree
on the aforementioned “Marshall Mathers” line when he wrote, “MC
Get-Bizzy just went platinum in Guam. His single ‘Bizzy Bounce’ has
topped the charts over there. I missed out. Damn.”
But after the revelation that was the
Revival tracklisting,
it’s painfully obvious that Eminem doesn’t thrive off of being
associated with any traditional Hip Hop sensibilities anymore.
Now, rarely does Eminem share his own album limelight with other rappers. Given the amount of raw talent
currently existing on Shady Records,
one would think that’s where the collaborations would stem from. While
P!nk and Skylar Grey are his longtime homies, and Beyoncé and Alicia
Keys are just golden voices any respectable artist should want to record
with, the message is clear that Eminem wants to attract active
mainstream music consumers at any cost. I’m not sure if there was a
campaign for an Eminem x Ed Sheeran collaboration though. We must have
missed that one
on Twitter.
Allow me to add that calling Eminem a “sellout” will always be a
reach. There isn’t an accolade, criticism or run of bad music that can
rupture his Hip Hop credibility. He’s got the props and the plaques to
prove it. If selling out constitutes being the second highest-selling
male artist of all time, then every Tom, Dick and Harry should be vying
for the stereotype.
But is there a sense of forgotten roots or general boredom with the
perennial culture of rap? Kitschy records such as “Cinderella Man,”
“Drug Ballad,” “Ass Like That” and “Cum On Everybody” have always
permeated Eminem albums, not to mention the obviousness of mainstream
ploys
that accompany his lead singles. Yet, a consistent vibe of Hip Hop has been growing increasingly scarce, in terms of production and general rhyme schemes.
Revival‘s (kickoff?)
single, “Walk on Water,” has the now 45-year-old MC acknowledging the
underlying consensus of his music these days (“There was a time I had
the world by the balls, eating out my palm/ Every album, song I was
spazzin’ the fuck out on/ And now I’m getting clowned and frowned on”).
That time he speaks of is most likely between the years of 2000-2002, which brought forth
The Marshall Mathers LP,
The Eminem Show and
8 Mile-everything.
It was a time that also brought forth his most symmetrical Hip Hop
material. While artists eventually evolve, the hibernation of Slim Shady
in favor of a more gleaming pop sound is taking Eminem out of the top
rap conversations. If you look
at recent Grammy-nominated rap albums such as the pristine
Laila’s Wisdom by Rapsody or even heavy favorite
JAY-Z’s bare-bones 4:44, it’s apparent that rap simply
is enough
these days. Even Nicki Minaj, who’s dodged criticisms of not being Hip
Hop enough while simultaneously becoming the biggest female Hip Hop
artist of all time, has revealed plans
to return to the essence on her next go-around.
So why is Eminem doubling down — hell,
tripling down on his
bets on the record sales safeguards? Is it fear, stubbornness or
boredom? It’s a safe assumption that he’ll get radio play no matter how
seedy — or sugary — the content is.
Only Detroit’s Finest can give us that answer.
What we do know is there’s been reluctance. The tail end of “Walk On
Water” ends with a rare direct boast daring anyone to question his
solidification, seeing that he is the creator of “Stan” (easily one of
the greatest rap songs to ever hit a CD). But Eminem has known to be
reluctant about giving himself credit, even where and when it’s due. An
earlier line in “Walk on Water” where he spits, “I’m not God-sent, Nas,
Rakim, ‘Pac, B.I.G., James Todd Smith/ And I’m not Prince, so…”
I don’t necessarily
like “Walk On Water” but I do appreciate
the headspace Marshall Mathers has found himself in. The saying “once
an addict, always an addict” doesn’t yield to any sort of financial
status or physical strength, so for him to divulge in music that
delivers a sense of catharsis — especially if it’s keeping him alive —
then so be it.
It’s just disappointing it can’t be beats, rhymes and life that bring everybody onto the rap side.
The real side.
