EMINEM - Relapse | Review By: Conan Milne


Release Date : May 20th 2009

Label : Shady / Aftermath / Interscope Records

Rating: 4/5

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He’s back. After four years of, in his own words, “Watching the rap game go to crap,” Hip-Hop’s self-proclaimed Antichrist is finally ready to reintroduce himself. Between his last closing curtain and this, fervently discussed Relapse, a lot has changed for Marshall Bruce Mathers. His oppressive drug addiction has finally begun to recede, ushering in a reinvigorated creative vision in the process. Nonetheless, what has also changed since Slim Shady last infiltrated the media is his genre of expertise. Hip-Hop’s fascination with lullaby hooks, synth-driven beats, and carefree lyricism is more prevalent now than it’s ever been. Fortunately, Relapse doesn’t so much ignore this existing blueprint as flip it a middle finger and remain decidedly Shady.

The deliberately disjointed “3am,” for example, is fascinatingly removed from any other mainstream rap single released this year. A gloomy, overcast tale that paints the artist as a hallucinogen swallowing, civilian massacring sociopath, it succeeds by channeling the paranoia and anxiety brought on by Mathers’ onetime drug dependency. His keen interest in serial killers is also put to good use, nodding to The Silence Of The Lambs as he repeatedly chants, “It puts the lotion in the bucket / It puts the lotion on the skin, or else it gets the hose again!” The brutal creation is completed by Dr. Dre’s complimentary production, an ominous brew of guillotine strings and erratic plinks.

As compelling as “3am” is, it’s successor “My Mom” truly reacquaints the listener with their host. Expertly towing the line between brutal honesty and macabre comedy, Shady gamely recounts how his mother instilled a reliance on prescription medicine in him. “Wait a minute – this ain’t dinner, this is paint thinner,” he objects, then adopting a scratchy, pitched vocal to reply, “You ate it yesterday, I ain’t hear no complaints, did I?” The track ends with Em gleefully announcing his falling into bed, “With a bottle of meds, and a Heath Ledger bobblehead!” It’s vintage Em antagonizing, pushed further by Dre’s playful bombast.

The majority of Relapse is as eagerly demented. “Insane,” with it’s relentlessly shrieking strings, sees the MC announce, “I was born with a dick in my brain / Yeah – fucked in the head.” Building mercilessly upon this wordplay, he creates an alternative past where a fictional, beyond-abusive stepfather enjoys routinely dominating him. “Don’t you know what felch means,” the monstrous creation asks of a young Marshall, before enquiring, “Would you rather be felched or do the felching?” The entrancing “Same Song And Dance,” meanwhile, sees Mathers plot the elaborate kidnapping of old crush Britney Spears over a deceivingly ethereal production. Once she’s captured, Em, as he would, threatens to slam-dunk Valium into her mouth until she retches.

This maniacal lyricism prompts politically incorrect chuckles, but the bulk of Mathers’ venom is reserved for “Underground.” A ferocious, bellowing tirade, it swiftly descends into the depths only Slim Shady would dare plumb. “Fucking doctor, I ain’t understand a damn what he said / I planned a relapse the second I walked outta that bitch,” spews Em defiantly over Dr. Dre’s piercing, gothic opera. The rest of the track sees Em flow masterfully about committing ludicrous atrocities, whether that be tossing lesbians into wet cement or using animals as projectile weapons. While entertaining, “Underground” nonetheless highlights the albums one foible. Reluctant to dwell on the past few years and the pain associated with them, Em can be reliant on luridly compelling, but slightly insubstantial, fantasies. Riveting as a cut like “Underground” is, it can leave the listener yearning for something more meaningful.

The album’s finest moment, then, is undoubtedly “Beautiful.” A startlingly poignant outpouring, it is the moment on Relapse that best snapshots Marshall Mathers’ darkest hours. Sounding uncharacteristically beaten, Em is heartbreaking as he explains how his self-imposed exile has left him, “So fucking depressed.” The track is as telling as it is affecting, however, and goes some way to explaining Relapse’s perceived weaknesses. If some jokes sound labored, it’s because they probably are; “I think I’m starting to lose my sense of humor / Everything’s so tense and gloom,” is his haunting confirmation. The album’s occasional incoherence is also suddenly understandable. If Relapse lacks satisfactory insight into the life of the best rapper alive, it’s simply because he no longer has a life to rap about. Untrusting of outsiders that cater to his whims like, “A fucking manservant,” his retreat to Detroit consequentially left him alienated from the wider world.

By the time the final whispers of Relapse have faded, it becomes apparent that Eminem has not been fully rehabilitated. Personal tragedies are not addressed, and the stereotypical accents found on the likes of “Bagpipes From Baghdad” sound suspiciously like nervous twitches. Degrading fantasies stand in for personal accounts, while the artist admits that he perhaps needs to seek a new outlet for his compressed emotion. Nonetheless, what is equally clear is that his talent remains intact. Relapse’s greatest moments are on par with anything from the MCs back catalogue, and even when faced with a draining personal struggle, he remains virtually peerless. He’s back, and Hip-Hop, nay, popular music, is all the better for it.
 

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