You have to give Eminem some credit. For being an artist who made his name dropping songs that courted controversy within seconds of pressing play, he still has an allure that keeps audiences coming back. He is one of the most viable rappers in a genre that still praises youth and vitality. Eminem has seen the genre change so frequently that his earliest work on "The Slim Shady LP" sounds like a bygone era. And still, he keeps pushing along, sticking to his guns as he finds new targets to take down. There is a reason that his recent beefs with Machine Gun Kelly and Nick Cannon were met with anticipation when his diss track would eviscerate them and "end careers" of the poor naive victims. Even as he approaches 50, he has proven to be an anomaly in rap: he's still young and hungry, even if one could argue that he has nothing left really to prove.
That is likely a reason he has taken up the new tradition of dropping surprise albums. Following 2018's "Kamikaze," he has been on a tear, trying to stay ahead of his critics and peers with rhymes that have a lyrical dexterity that is unmatched. Even then, it has felt like his anger hasn't really been directed in a way that once made him vital. With his 11th album, "Music to Be Murdered By," he pulls a bigger surprise: he finds a way to apply his horror rap pastiches to a contemporary lens that actually has insight and depth. While arguments could be made against how the album is produced, there's no denying that Eminem (a man once known for not caring) has found a way to care with a subversive technique that gives the album some levity. It's shocking, sure. That's to be expected. However, it feels like a portrait of the American psychopath, doing everything to understand not why he is so mad, but why we all are.
While Eminem has always reveled on a blue sense of humor, there's something that feels especially clever on this album. The title refers to a similar Alfred Hitchcock album where the famed director pokes fun at his listeners being killed throughout the course of an easy listening album. Like Hitchcock, Eminem has used horror theatrics for show and the choice to use audio clips of Hitchcock using his own macabre senes of humor shows that what he's doing is nothing new. Audiences have been clamoring for the grotesque since the dawn of time when penny dreadfuls made Victorian society feel far more dangerous. Eminem is just following in the classical tradition of his peers, and for the first time, he's not afraid to put himself into that context.
The only real difference is that Eminem is far less subtle than Hitchcock. The opener "Premonition" features the umpteenth time that the rapper has depicted murdering/burying a woman. It's almost his calling card and to have it on an album with "Murder" in the title seems obvious. After all, this is what he does. The album is followed by "Unaccommodating," which finds Eminem comparing himself to international terrorists from the past 20 years, all who have a negative and violent reputation in America. The best that can be said is that this is the warm-up act for what's to come. It's an artist addressing the media, asking why we perceive certain figures the way that we do.
One of the problems early on is that Eminem is too autobiographical in his music. Yes, there's a heightened sense of fiction to be found here, but that doesn't stop him from continuing the play-by-play of his bitterness towards critics. He targets Rolling Stone magazine in particular for giving "Kamikaze" a bad review, forcing himself to ask what his critics want of him. Instead of being the rebellious spirit who takes joy in taking down young kids doing mumble rap as the genre's boomer grandpa, he has a sense of pain of his own vitality. It's true that he's always attacked his critics, but now it just feels like he grasping at straws. There's no emotional catharsis in it, and that's one of the issues with the album.
Like "Kamikaze," his latest gets in its own way constantly as Eminem tries to address his critics in ways that are bitter jabs, taking away from any lyrical content that would be vicious or exciting. Yes, the album is about murdering everything that is wrong in the world, but these targets feel especially insignificant when placed on his later targets. It's an album that features him coming to terms with wild partying ("Those Kinda Nights") and marital affairs ("In Too Deep"). They're familiar territory, but there's something fresh about it as if we're seeing the one side of growing older that Eminem is willing to discuss. He's vulnerable to bad relationships, and it kind of explains why he's got loneliness underneath all of his raps. His shock rap only gets him so far, and it's here and in "Never Love Again" where he addresses it on a deeper, emotional level. "Never Love Again" is a song about quitting drugs written like a bad break-up, and it shows some signs of the man that Eminem currently is. It's compelling and reflects what he does best: being vulnerable even with his defenses up.
In what is likely to be his most controversial song since "The Eminem Show" era, "Darkness" is a song that takes his serial killer persona to another level. It's clear that he watches the news (it's been explored haphazardly on the album "Revival"), and here he takes on the Mandalay Bay mass shooting from the shooter's perspective, claiming that he doesn't want to be lonely anymore. It's a terrifying moment and one that feels like Eminem using his murder imagery for something grander. He wants to understand why someone would shoot a crowd of people. Unlike his earlier albums, there's no punchline. There's just this inherent sadness as the song incorporates gunfire and screaming crowds into the song. It's a moment on par with "Stan" that captures the dark core of Eminem, doing his best to understand this insane world. Is it irresponsible? Maybe. Even then, Eminem has been accused of inspiring murderers in the past. It feels like it would be irresponsible not to do it.
The best that can be said is that this is the most that he has desired to be a showman since "The Marshall Mathers LP 2," and with far more inventiveness in it. Maybe that's because he's brought an interesting variety of guests on the album (Ed Sheeran, Royce da 5'9", Anderson Paak), but it's just that this is one of his most realized albums in over a decade. It isn't just a chance to hear him once again describe brutally abusing women's bodies, it's about trying to put his violent tendencies in a context that is just as joyful from his youth, but also self-reflecting of knowing what the consequences are. He's aware of the theatrics that he and Hitchcock have given the world, but the difference is that Eminem has the conscience to be personal. Songs like "Stepdad" aren't new in the subject, but continues to show the rapper coming to terms with his past, moving away from attack his mother and choosing one of his rare male enemies. Sure, it sounds like a petty teenager complaining, but to place it into the bigger tapestry is to paint an interesting portrait of a man who is likely thankful to still be a relevant artist.
Then again, it's a charming dissonance to hear Eminem as more than a performer coming to terms with his past and place in media. His attacks on other performers (notably Machine Gun Kelly and Nick Cannon) are still clever little jabs that prove his gift for taking others down. He still has a vitality at his bitterness that works on its own but makes sense within the context of his warped and depressing lifestyle. The only issue, if there is any, is that for as much as he hates contemporary trends in rap, he also has a strange affinity for outdated pop culture references, such as Beavis and Butt-head and A Fish Called Wanda. He's constantly rapping about how Wu-Tang Clan influenced his life. While it's an admirable way of making Eminem a performer from an era, it makes his choice to take down those younger than him confusing. We get it. Mumble rap sucks. Why do you need to take it down to prove your own relevance? Just embrace old age and keep your dirty jokes. It's kind of more fun.
The big issue with Eminem, especially following "Recovery," is that he has a production that works against the album's charm. Clocking in at 64 minutes, the album feels overlong not because of the substance of the lyrics, but because every song has lost an anarchic edge. Every autobiographical reveal feels undone by the fact that the choruses all have a vibrant sound that is big, striving for pop hooks that are meant to add grandiose emotion. The album has moments that are lean and brutal, but they're undone by choruses that find the artist feeling self-aware about getting a Top 40 album. Considering how long he's been a commodity, his self-consciousness feels unwarranted. The good news is that there are moments that have more edge than his past three albums ("I Will"), but hearing Eminem try to sing or find deeper emotional catharsis doesn't always work. This is a rebel trying to be accepted, and the circle doesn't fit into the square. The best that can be said it's often more interesting than a failure, though at 20 songs it does feel overlong.
Still, his choice of fast rap doesn't feel impressive so much as a recurring motif meant to keep the audience's attention. It does serve some rhythmic intrigue, but it's not often enough that these moments produce memorable moments. It's him chasing "Rap God," while proving that his slower moments are far more interesting, especially as he plays with rapping to the beat and failing in humorous ways. He is a performer who rarely relied on this technique early in his career and now has become an overlong gimmick that is cool at first but becomes tiresome here. On the bright side, he's not as burdened to insult mumble rap here as he did on "Kamikaze," but you also just want to believe that he'll return to what made his work sincere. He's too self-aware as a performer to really stray from pop techniques now, and that's what keeps him from being as vital. Drop the hooks and throw a sledgehammer to form. Only then will he be as exciting as his angry lyrics suggest.
Still, Eminem's choice to make an album coming to terms with how America views violence has created an album with such audacity that its pitch-black humor feels like more than chintz. Here it comes across as an exploration of how abuse informed his relationships and addiction, as well as how he perceives it through the media. Even the Hitchcock samples playfully show how he's the heir apparent, needing to shock in order to explore something deeper. Why is this disturbing? Eminem finds moments where he reaches another plain of insight, and it is why he's still relevant. While one can continue to argue how much longer he's going to be interesting or exciting, it's amazing to know that he's the one rapper who never went away. Most wrecking balls usually retire after awhile. Eminem, a voice of destruction for almost 25 years, is still going strong. It's almost more exciting to think about it than listen, but every now and then he earns his place.
Rating: 3 out of 5
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