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EMINEM Curtain Call   Print  E-mail 
Written by Mark Reed  
Saturday, 18 February 2006
In many respects I wish that Eminem rapped in a language I didn't understand...

Eight years, more controversy than JFK, and here we are. End of the line. Released for the pre Christmas gasp, yet in the post Christmas cigarette break, "Curtain Call" is... well, OK. No doubt it pleases the fans and bookend's Eminem's prolific career with a cash cow, but, but... BUT...

 

Firstly, of the three new songs they're almost all absolute horeshit. "Fack" is the immature ramblings of a grown millionaire going "oooooh Girls! Tits! Asses! Fannypacks!". I wouldn't even think drivel like this, let alone release it. But then again, it's all about The T & The A.

 

...."I wanna facking fack

No, not fuck

I said fack

F A C K F A C K

fack fack fack facking freak me"....

 

Voice of a generation, there, kids. All you need is love.

 

"Shake That" is a Nate Dogg song with Eminem guesting at the odd point. Basically filler. And there's no space for filler on a best of. None.  Joe Strummer was right, again. There's no space for hesitation, procrastination, timewastin'. A record is a military assault : use the time well or not at all.

 

But what about the rest? Well, it's almost all killer. In many respects I wish that Eminem rapped in a language I didn't understand. Then I could marvel at his rhythmic and aural dexterity and sonic eloquence. Instead I listen to him making juvenile rubbish about Facking, and abusing his talents as a wordsmith. The words, when he's not held hostage by his dick are fantastic : devastating the hypocrisy of The First World with an accuracy rarely seen. With a righteous fury not unleashed sine the golden years of Public Enemy when they were a weapon of mass destruction.

 

And then he writes about killing his wife, chopping her up, and burying her at sea. Give 'em enough rope. But aside from this, Eminem is without doubt probably the best high profile rapper in the world right now. A pissed off, furious and eloquent political commentator on the dying days of a corrupt empire. The way he uncurls words like a machine gun, with the jibber jabber pitter patter of an AK-47, the words sitting on top of rhythms that sound like illadvised hiphop remixes of Martika, Aerosmith, and Led Zeppelin but expose the other thing I despise about modern hiphoprnbrap - the inability to write anything original?

 

I know. Fucking cracker talking shit. But hear this out. The memorable bits from these songs, the bits we sing, are taken from well known rock standards like "Dream On", "Toy Soldiers", that one by Dido, or - in the case of a morally and artistically bankrupt vampire like P.Diddy - the entire of a Police song.

 

All I need to be a rapper is the Dub mix of New Order's "Blue Monday", splice up the beats a little, and yell about "chicks on my dick they loving my wit you know I cant stop git gotta admit at the bar or the car feel like a star my fingers on her clit I'm above par her number one private porno star this is a hit she's my number one we be having fun.."

 

Shit! I just wrote a number one. Worked for Slim Shady anyway. All I got to do now is be dead for a decade, and the charts'll be my pigtailed gin n juice bitch.

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