Eminem produced “Without Me” himself, and the sound of this song is the best thing about it, a thick, soupy, snaky bassline and a brutally four-square beat. Ironic that this is the record where he calls out Moby – “nobody listens to techno!” – as the goonish thunk of “Without Me” is the most robotic version of Marshall Mathers yet. And the least funky, not coincidentally. It’s a production stripped back to make more space for Eminem’s tongue-twisting insults, and to be as legible as possible to the army of new, white hip-hop fans he’s presuming are out there, waiting out a turgid pop landscape until their rascal prince returns.
That’s the one innovation on “Without Me” – it’s the song where he addresses race, however gingerly. Elvis is on his mind – listened to by square parents while Marshall’s staking a claim to be his avatar. The old Elvis, by legend, shocked and galvanised white teenage America because he brought them rock’n’roll and kept the sex in. What’s the new Elvis doing? On the surface, yes, something similar – saying to his audience, you matter, your desires are real. But the desires have changed. With Elvis, shock is a by-product, what happens when teenage lust speaks its name. With Eminem, shock is a good in itself. We need a little controver-see.
Why do we need it? “Without Me” doesn’t answer that, and doesn’t care. Because controversy is a job description, a mission statement, the role Eminem is playing, homophobic slurs and predictable call-outs of his mum included. Underneath that cynicism is – or once was – the sincerity of the damaged child, a need to troll and prod and shift the hurt onto anyone in range. That’s what made Eminem compelling at the beginning. By “Without Me” it’s become the commodity he’s selling, a way in which being an asshole becomes the most valid response to the world. Business is brisk: at the end of “Without Me” Eminem imagines “twenty million other white rappers”, a tide of Ems like the army of Slim Shadys in “The Real Slim Shady”. (The supposed difference between the personae has largely broken down by this point.) You don’t need damage to buy what he was selling, there are no background checks. Entitlement and spite will do just as well.
But what sinks “Without Me” isn’t just its hatefulness. It’s how cosy it all is. The targets on “The Real Slim Shady” were weak enough, but Moby? In 2002? Catchy it may be, but this is a song that goes endlessly on about how Eminem is Mr. Controversy, how he’s about to say something outrageous, and he can’t produce. Bits of it are dextrous, but other bits are excruciating – like the feeble discuss-disgusting pun, unveiled with an awful flourish. If “Without Me” deserves Elvis comparisons, it’s the smarmy Elvis of the post-army movies, a man who knows exactly where he fits and what’s expected of him, a sometime threat become a performing seal.
Score: 4
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