Eminem aka slim shady aka Marshall Mathers invaded my life in 1999, when my middle son, then 12 years old, discovered the white rapper and blasted his first hit, "My Name Is," everywhere. At home, it sounded like a lot of noise, but in the confines of the car one day, I suddenly caught both the rhythm and some of the lyrics. The language was filthy; that was nothing new for rap. Eminem, though, had something different: a verbal violence which didn't sound serious enough to be frightening, a wit which cut through everything and everyone like, well, a chainsaw (his trademark at the time), and an angry voice to match and carry both.
I started listening and discovered that this tough-looking but diminutive young man tells good stories. At first, they sound like horror stories ("Hi kids! Do you like violence? Wanna see me stick nine inch nails through each one of my eyelids?"), but almost instantly, they turn into self-deprecating satires, comedies, tragedies, porno-references, tender love songs, social protests-whatever he wants them to be.
My son told me at the time that a lot of people were dismissing Eminem as a one-hit wonder. They were wrong: he went on to produce a brilliant album, 'The Marshall Mathers LP', which sold 5m copies in the first two months. The incendiary yet sophisticated lyrics about rape, sex and violence infuriated gay and women's groups, not to mention Mathers's own mother and wife. Yet they continued to delight masses of mostly very young fans, and by the time his next album, 'The Eminem Show', came out in 2002, those young fans had been joined in many cases by their parents. And this year, things turned around. I saw Eminem's movie, '8 Mile', before my son did-in fact, I had to insist he give it a try. At 16, he claims to have moved on.
'8 Mile' is loosely based on the story of Eminem's own life. Like the film's hero, Rabbit, Eminem grew up in Detroit where he had an unstable, white-trash childhood, moving around from school to school, being bullied a lot, getting into both physical and verbal fights and finally dropping out in ninth grade. He supported himself in various jobs while working on becoming an adept rapper, participating in rapping contests, losing many, finally winning some important ones. His first recording, entitled 'Infinite', did poorly; the lyrics didn't yet have the quality and character he was to develop as Slim Shady. But even here, there is something interesting going on: "You heard of hell, well I was sent from it/ I went to it servin' a sentence for murdering instruments/ Now I'm tryin' to repent from it/ But when I hear the beat/ I'm tempted to make another attempt at it/ I'm infinite."
In '8 Mile', Rabbit lives in a trailer with his alcoholic mother, angelic little sister and his mother's violent boyfriend. Rabbit is trying to hold down a deadly job in a Detroit car factory but, above all, he is writing his lyrics, compulsively: on the bus on the way to work, at home while his sister watches television and his mother drinks. We know from the first scene that he is a talented rapper, the only white contestant in an underground rap club contest. But when he tries to compete, he freezes. His group of (mostly black) friends are disappointed, but supportive. They know he'll try again. Rabbit is not so sure. Before he does, brilliantly, in the final scene, and wins, a lot happens. It is the classic, beautiful American story of winning against the odds (it's up to you; this is America-just do it). "You better lose yourself in the music, the moment/ You own it, you better never let it go, you only get one shot."
For many people, the film illuminates the world from which those violent verbal insults-the insults that seemed so shocking on his first tracks-have come. Here they are, part of rap battling, where the aim is to insult your opponent in as strong language as you can come up with in a limited space of time. It's a verbal game and although the words are based on reality, they are not to be taken literally. Similar contests based on rhyming insults were known in Elizabethan times and many leading poets excelled at them. In Scottish literature, dating back to medieval times, the term "flyting" refers to the exchange of vituperative abuse between rival poets. To this day, there are poetry lovers who organise "bardic duels" and other verbal games based on sharp verse and quick repartee.
Eminem writes and speaks the most innovative lyrics since Bob Dylan. The beauty is sometimes hard to reconcile with the viciousness and violence in his voice ("My words are like a dagger with a jagged edge/ That'll stab you in the head/ Whether you're a fag or a lez"), but it is there, nevertheless, in the interplay between the razor-sharp inner rhymes, the relentless, steady rapping and the surprisingly tender melodies. Moreover, although he sounds, and is, angry, most of his images are accompanied by an invitation to laugh-at yourself, at the world, at Eminem himself: "They tried to shut me down on MTV/ But it feels so empty without me."
But my son tells me I'm behind the times. The latest rapper to watch is black, called 50 Cent and has just made the best rap album ever, 'Get Rich or Die Tryin''. It was co-produced by Eminem.
