The Death Of Slim Shady (Coup De Grace)

Eminem

Shady / Interscope, 2024

http://www.eminem.com

REVIEW BY: Peter Piatkowski

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED: 08/07/2024

The title of Eminem’s 12th album announces the death of his alter-ego Slim Shady, the explosive outlet for the rapper’s most audacious, challenging, and riotous thoughts. But instead of being an elegiac tribute, the record is a dizzying, stunning bit of theatre in which Eminem squares off against Slim Shady, trying to contend with a world remarkably and irrevocably changed from the turn of the 21st century when he released two of his best-selling, most culturally significant albums, The Marshall Mathers LP (2000) and The Eminem Show (2002). Together, those albums sold over 50 million copies and changed radio forever with clever, subversive singles like “The Real Slim Shady” and the disturbing “Stan.” For most of his career, Eminem has had to contend with critics and advocacy groups protesting his lyrics, which were often laden with virulently violent, misogynistic and homophobic imagery. Those who reduced the rapper as simply offensive deliberately miss the point of pop showmanship. The Death Of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce) is a stunning work of art because it wrestles with questions of propriety and civility.

Listening to the record is a constantly confounding experience. The repeated jabs at marginalized groups often feel cheap. People with disabilities, trans and queer people, and little people all find themselves in Eminem’s sights. It’s unclear whether these cruel jabs are merely the rantings of a stunted middle-aged man or brilliant sleight-of-hand by a master manipulator. The truth is probably somewhere in the muddled middle, though it’s certainly frustrating to hear a prodigiously gifted tunesmith like Eminem make repeated, eye-rollingly easy jabs at Caitlyn Jenner. (The former Olympian pops up several times on the record.)

The songs take aim at supposed “woke-ness” and political correctness and engage in the questionable notion of cancel culture. Much of what Eminem laments as a loss of freedom of speech is merely accountability that public figures face. Of course, the collective pearl-clutching in response to Eminem’s music often reeked of hypocrisy, especially when the ire was selective (What is the worst slur? Which group was the gold medalist in the Oppression Olympics? Which slur was okay to use, and when did he go too far?) Assessing the content of Eminem’s work is complicated because he’s manipulating and trolling his audience. He’s goading us into getting upset—and it often works beautifully.

Though not normally compared to her, Eminem’s career is similar to Madonna’s. Both Michigan natives built careers on smashing taboos. The main difference is that Eminem relies on shock and awe, but also a prodigious musical skill. He can craft breathlessly intelligent lyrics that belie a lot of the puerile material, making him sound like a schoolyard bully. The record refers to the “death” of Slim Shady, which points to the rapper’s calculated construction of a musical persona in which he gets to pour this kind of alarming bile.

Though Eminem’s work is offensive, one cannot deny the guy’s gifted. On The Death Of Silm Shady, he proves that he’s still in full possession of his talents, packing his lyrics with sharp barbs, references, and allusions to popular culture and an unrelenting desire to play out the engrossing drama of his various musical personae duking it out for lyrical dominance. “Habits”—the first full track on the record—is a brilliant introduction to the record and Eminem’s thesis. In the song, he quickly destroys critics who suggest he’s past his prime or peak. When he warns, “’Bout to show your ass why I’m still a pain in it,” we understand that the performer isn’t about to go soft in his middle age and that he’s still going to revel in busting up scared cows. The song is full of braggadocio and defiance and audacious ballsiness, as he takes aim at detractors and critics as well as voices he’d deem as humorless scolds who are too sensitive (“Well, I’m sorry the world isn’t one big liberal arts college campus,” he sneers sarcastically). The song then delves into the various culture war tropes (pronouns, microaggressions, various forms of stigmatizing shading, etc.). In less talented hands, this would be tedious. Complaints about pronouns are nothing new, nor is the cliched reference to a liberal college campus. Many will roll their eyes at a middle-aged millionaire’s rant about pronouns—and they should—but that’s the point of Eminem’s music. He wants to provoke and will skillfully locate the soft underbelly of our collective civility. And he does so quite wittily despite a lot of the deplorable imagery and language he evokes. my_heart_sings_the_harmony_web_ad_alt_250

It’s not just that Eminem confounds his critics; he also confounds his fans. He zigzags from points of view, never letting his listeners feel safe in pinning down his actual belief system. His lyrics are practically stuffed, and his verses are dense, given the various ways he uses language. I’d feel I was pushing it if I called him a pop linguist, but there’s something to how he creates these profane poems, in which he manages to careen from astute cultural critic to snotty adolescent, all within just a few lines.

On “Evil,” he admits to being “Evil… Rotten to the core… it’s obvious that I am not like other people.” Yet again, the rapper is battling with a duality, recognizing the nihilistic tendencies of his Slim Shady persona but unable to completely abandon it. He again aims for low-hanging fruit (queer people are a favorite target of his) when indulging in his most base instincts. Still, the song’s somber, moody tone is morbid and dark, only made more dire by his manner of referencing the many medications he’s taking.

With a song like “Brand New Dance”—a deceptively easy-going pop number that includes some truly awful allusions to disabled people and the late Christopher Reeves—we see the dizzying effect Eminem has on his audiences. It’s all so galling that it feels almost ridiculous to find offense at some of the despicable language and imagery he employs in the song. On the hit single “Houdini,” he plays a similarly provocative jester, warning his audiences that his return will bring about more baiting. When wrapped in a radio-friendly pop setting like in “Houdini,” we are constantly reminded that as offended as we are by these lyrics, it’s just entertainment.

The Death of Slim Shady comes at an opportune moment in our culture when we’re struggling with the conflicting agendas of various actors, all of whom have been pulling us in different directions. The progressive moments we’ve seen in the last decade or so—particularly when it comes to queer and trans rights—as well as the reckoning we’re going through when it comes to race, gender, consent, and power, has given rise to a considerable backlash. This “anti-woke” movement seeks a return to “common sense” values that simplify things. Eminem’s place in this conversation is complicated because his point of view is as splintered, contradictory, complex, and divisive as the rancorous debate we’re seeing. He’s obviously loving the shocked reactions he gets from those he offends, and he saves some of his most savage poetry for the “woke.”

The album is brilliant but has one major frailty threatening to upend its whole premise. As offensive as Eminem is (and he is offensive), he’s met his match on X, Reddit, or a myriad of other social media platforms. When Eminem first emerged years ago with his Slim Shady persona, we weren’t ensconced in wall-to-wall social media presence. We also didn’t have Trump. (I don't want to give the former president too much credit, but he’s made a mark.) The legacies of the Tea Party, MAGA, and Trump mean that the rantings found on the record are easily found on the internet. Eminem can no longer claim the mantle of someone simply “saying what others are afraid to say”; there are no boundaries anymore, as people can say whatever they like. And they do. Even as Eminem cheekily invokes debates over trans rights, the internet is rife with users falsely accusing trans folks and drag queens of grooming.

The album stays relevant and dated because of Eminem’s brilliance at songwriting and rapping. He’s giving voice to a still-growing contingent but possesses an intellect and wit that few of them have. He also regularly struggles with some of the more regressive aspects of these thoughts, playing out this conflict on the record. It’s fascinating to watch and listen to a superstar wrestling with a monster he helped to create.

Rating: A

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