January 11, 2018
Another politically motivated Rust Belt blond, Paul Newman, once said “a man with no enemies is a man with no character.” And few musicians could boast more of either than Eminem, the poison-tongued, potty-mouthed scourge of Lynn Cheney, boy bands, clown posses and eventually – on a string of self-auditing post-rehab albums – himself. But, at 45, he hasn’t had a good pop-culture feud in ages, and his pill-popping days of vice are behind him. Eminem has long been pushed to the edge and all his foes are dead. “I only go to meetings court-ordered from a shrink,” he jokes on a Revival pick-up line.
The majority of Revival is, well, a revival: a collection of labyrinthine raps without much of a narrative arc. Lyrically, Eminem mainly falls back on old tricks. But what tricks they are: part Big Daddy Kane, part Eddie Van Halen, part Marquis de Sade. He can still be the same booger-flicking shock-rocker, just in a dirty old man’s body. “Believe” and “Chloraseptic” are the type of boast-heavy rap-a-thons that no fan of Run the Jewels would shrug at; Em even has a go at a Migos flow. On “Heat,” he unleashes a ridiculous litany of dirty puns (“You got buns, I got Asperger’s”) and the type of convoluted double entendres that would make AC/DC feel like underachievers (“Sorry if I’m being graphic, but I’m stiff as a statue/You sat on a shelf, I feel like I’m a bust/Maybe I’m ahead of myself”). He’s a triple-X LL Cool J on “Remind Me,” rapping about boobs ‘n’ butts while Rick Rubin flips Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll.”
“Framed” and “Offended” return to 2009’s Relapse: self-consciously ultraviolent splatstick with sexual assault jokes on parade and pop culture punchlines updated with Bill Cosby, Ray Rice and Steven Avery. It will ultimately be for the listener to decide whether these songs land as an exploitation flick made of intricately stacked syllables (“In Hamtramck, got the panoramic camera, Xanax, a banana hammock and a Santa hat”) or a disgusting, unnecessary display of misogyny (“Gotta stab a bitch at least eight times/To make it on Dateline“) that’s more distracting than transgressive in the #MeToo era.
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