Review Summary: Guess who's back? Back again? Shady's back! Do with that what you will.
In 2002, Marshall Mathers boasted:
“can’t leave rap alone, the game needs me!” It came with the same offhanded cadence he used to use to slam Britney and the FCC, but now it’s 2010, and suddenly… yeah. The game
needs Eminem, and needs him in prime form. Think about it: Lil’ Wayne’s in jail. Kanye West, sh
it-hot “Power” notwithstanding, is still a disgraced punch line. 50 Cent has become a hitless beanpole. And who the fu
ck is Drake, anyway? Eminem once believed himself to be the most important figure in hip hop, which, for white people, was probably true. To a legion of angsty suburban kids otherwise unschooled in anything hip-hop, Eminem was
it: the cultural antichrist just nonthreatening enough to be idolized. And we need Shady back. For a good six years, there’s been a Slim-shaped hole in our hearts, torn open when Eminem shat out
Encore. For a good six years, the
real Slim Shady’s been floundering in a pill-addicted stupor. And it’s no overstatement to say that, hell, we’ve missed him. We’ve missed the Shady who mocked pop culture from the pedestal he built for himself. We’ve missed the Shady who always seemed a hair away from going apes
hit and missed even more the Shady who actually
went apeshit. And with
Recovery, we get him back.
Kind of.
See, as much as pop culture needs Marshall, Marshall needs pop culture.
Recovery is easily Eminem’s most important album, not just for his career, but also for himself. This album is audible therapy, complete with several cuts of Eminem apologizing, taking responsibility for being a terrible rapper, and promising to get better. You know, rehab s
hit. It’s literally a recovery, with all the good and bad implications a recovery entails. First off, yes, Eminem doesn’t suck anymore, so rejoice! Eminem has relearned how to spit fire, and it’s easy to declare
Recovery a fully successful comeback for Em when he leads with some of his most jaw-dropping verses since
Eminem Show on “Cold Wind Blows.” For precious moments on
Recovery, Eminem sounds like the mischievous little zit we remember from the
Marshall Mathers LP, only with the supersized production that’s characterized his latest stuff. But
Recovery also features Em working the demons out of his system, which means all of Em’s dirty laundry: not just the drug use, but the domestic strife, the well-tread conflict over being a ho-stabbing rapper and a father, the grief over Proof’s death. We’re not getting Marshall Mathers: The Character here, but Marshall Mathers: The Somewhat Normal, Post-Prime Middle-Aged Man whose myriad complexes are about as interesting as any other post-prime middle-aged man’s. Which is to say: not very.
I’m not trying to fault Eminem for apologizing, because sh
it, we needed an “I’m sorry” to take him seriously after
Encore and
Relapse. That’s why “Not Afraid,” though a pretty crappy single even by Em’s slipping standards,
had to be the first single. It’s a track that gives us a reason to care about Eminem again. Actually, strike that: It’s a reason for us to give Eminem a
chance again. It’s the verses on “Cold Wind Blows,” “Won’t Back Down,” and “On Fire” that are why you should care again. The soap opera that runs throughout the rest of the album lands as overkill, pleas for us to pay attention against insufficient reason to. It’s not that he’s being fake about it; Em’s conviction on the forgiveness and pity-grabbing tracks is fierce, like he’s desperately trying to make amends for
Encore and
Relapse, the latter of which he admits on “Not Afraid” to be a steaming pile of donkey sh
it (though I think he uses the term “ehh”). But self-deprecation is a horrible color on Eminem, and it certainly doesn’t suit him as well as, say, pissing on B-list celebrities and beating the s
hit out of Kim. Still, this is the
new Em, post drugs, a hair more sane (though really, with “Warning” and “Despicable” released as pre-
Recovery teasers, we know he’s still crazy as fu
ck) and ready to love.
Not that
Recovery truly masks the Shady half of Slim; the old, vitally mad Eminem still pops out, eyes bulging, ready to bring down the world. Even if his targets are a little stale (Elton John? Michael Vick? Michael J. Fox (twice)?
Really???), the songs where he’s in attack mode land better because they’re reminiscent of an Em who used to sh
it on chart topping pop stars instead of collaborate with them. (Which reminds me: how are
all the guest spots on
Recovery this awful? I mean Pink’s always been terrible but Marshall somehow gets Rihanna and Lil Wayne to suck themselves into an endless vortex of awful Eminem hooks.) Eminem may not be as tuned into the zeitgeist as he once was, but we can forgive him because at least on these tracks he’s spitting lightning instead of getting caught up in some other bullsh
it like battle-rapping about something as inane as stealing an anonymous rapper’s girlfriend with his skillz (“Seduction”). Or using prolonged adolescent Facebook messages to Kim as a metaphor for his feelings on
the game (“25 to Life”). Or actually unironically comparing himself to Superman when he has a whole fuc
king song in his well-known catalogue where he uses the Superman reference to try to fu
ck bit
ches. But no, the fiery Eminem is not the Em we’re meant to see on
Recovery. Instead we get a vulnerable, wounded man who just wants one more chance to make amends.
And yeah, he earns the forgiveness and respect he craves with some occasionally killer verses and actually funny jokes, but make no mistake,
Recovery is an exorcism of the demons that made
Encore and
Relapse suck, and so we are treated to verses about
hope and beats whose minor-major chord changes are supposed to offer
inspiration. We are treated to Important Topic Eminem and here, Important Topic Eminem is the
worst Eminem. I guess, though, he couldn’t have really done
Recovery any other way. I mean, after a career nosedive as sharp as the one he took,
Recovery had to be this wrought. And with the demons gone, maybe Eminem actually will release a real return to form in full instead this flashes-of-former-brilliance mixed bag.
Recovery still lacks many things that once made Eminem amazing, like crisp beats and sufferable hooks (seriously, they’re
that bad). Perhaps he could’ve used some more assistance from a Doctor too busy going through his own Detox to help Eminem through his. But for now, we’ll take
Recovery for what it is. This is Eminem getting over Eminem, and we’re going to be excited about it because, let’s face it: Shady’s back. Tell a friend.
