Eminem Reborn: The Second Coming of Marshall Mathers
MAYBE IT’S THE HAIR. YOU CAN’T REALLY SEE it under the plain black military scout’s cap he’s wearing this afternoon, but for the first time in half a decade or so, Eminem has reclaimed the Slim Shady platinum-blond look that he cast aside after beating a near-fatal pill addiction. Post-rehab, his emotional dial seemed slightly stuck on “grim determination,” but now, despite looming, beyond-final deadlines for his eighth studio album, The Marshall Mathers LP 2, he’s in a disarmingly playful mood. In the course of a long conversation, he breaks into a Yoda impression, raps part of “My Name Is,” laughs, smiles, makes fun of himself — all stuff that people assumed was behind him.
He’s taking a break from mixing the album in his warehouselike studio complex in a Detroit suburb, where old-school video games line one wall (Mortal Kombat is the only one that actually seems to be in operation), TMZ and Judge Judy play on the front-lounge TV, and compilations of current Marvel comic books are supplied for in-bathroom reading.
Eminem sprawls on an ergonomic chair in manager Paul Rosenberg’s office, with a bottle of water and a can of diet Red Bull at his feet. He’s wearing a crisp white T-shirt, below-the-knee cargo shorts, and blue and white low-top Nike Air Max Is with tags still on them. There’s a silver chain around his neck. He’s crazily fit, with huge biceps that almost don’t match his thin, still-unlined face — he’s 41, but doesn’t look it. On the wall above his head is a huge print of the Paul’s Boutique album cover; a life-size, giant-tongued bust of the head of Venom, the Spider-Man villain, has a place of honor at Rosenberg’s desk.
After a couple of hours, Rosenberg comes in with six different mixes of the new song “Rap God” for Eminem to choose among. A look of genuine agitation crosses his face — he thought he was almost done for the day. Then Eminem throws his hands up in mock exasperation and bolts from his chair. “That’s it,” he says, offering an evil smile. “I’m going back on drugs!”
What did it feel like to look in the mirror and see that blond hair again?
Like I relapsed on drugs. It was a little creepy. I certainly had some dark times with that shit, mostly due to taking a lot of pills and fucking drooling on myself. It was a shitty time, and I think getting sober and putting my hair back to its regular color was me washing my hands of it. Dyeing it back probably would have been bad for me a year or two after that. But I’m more comfortable in sobriety now. It made sense once the songs started coming together, so I just said, “Fuck it.”
You sound less intense on this record than you did on Recovery, maybe happier, maybe more your old self.
I feel like maybe I got too happy or too jokey or too giddy on Relapse [the 2009 album before Recovery]. Everything was a joke: accents, funny shit, shock-value shit, all that shit I just kind of ran into the ground. And then Recovery was, “Let me try to get serious for a minute, let me get back to making songs that actually feel something.” But afterward, doing the Bad Meets Evil EP [a collaboration with Royce da 5’9″] really started to open my mind up. It gave me the feeling again of making music with no restraints. I’m hoping that that’s what this new album is, having fun with the music. Not to say there’s going to be no serious moments, but trying to find the right balance.
And presumably your recent life has been a lot less dramatic than the period before Relapse and Recovery.
On this record, I’m not coming off of an overdose, you know? And I didn’t just lose Proof, one of my best friends that I’ve ever had. Those periods of time were pretty fuckin’ brutal, and those were things on Recovery that I needed to address that I think were probably therapeutic for me. You know, I miss Proof every day and love him and wish he was here all the time. But that was just a different time period.
And are you actually happy these days?
I’m as happy as I can be, I guess.
One of the first times we saw you back with the hair was Brent Musburger’s interview on ESPN in September. You acted spaced-out, and people didn’t get that you were screwing around.
I knew we were about to show the “Berzerk” video, so I was doing what I call the Berzerk face. The whole song to me feels like vintage Beastie Boys. And you know the “Pass the Mic” video where Ad-Rock is making that face, kind of not looking in the camera? I was doing my own version. So I thought it would be funnier because maybe no one would know what I’m doing.
I’ve only heard you talk about Licensed to Ill before — did you follow the Beasties to Paul’s Boutique and beyond?
When Paul’s Boutique came out, I was one of the fans who didn’t get it. It took me years to realize how fucking genius it is. I felt bad for sleeping on it. Obviously, yes, there was something about Licensed to Ill — you had the Zeppelin samples and their vibe. You had Run-DMC, who were so cool, with the attitude of “Fuck you if you don’t like us.” Same as the Beastie Boys. “Fuck you. We fucking curse. We spit beer. We throw it on our fucking fans.” And obviously as they got older their views and things changed, as all of ours do. You can be mad at their shit for not sounding like their last shit, but if it did, then they didn’t grow as artists. Same with me.
You worked with Rick Rubin on parts of the new album, and there’s some throwback hip-hop production on there. What’s that about for you?
One of my favorite new things to do is experiment with older break beats and sounds, retro shit, and try to make it current. I was headed in that direction before Rick got involved. It’s the nostalgia of it, when hip-hop was fresh and new..
It was being invented on a day-to-day basis, basically.
Yeah. Damn near every new song that came out was groundbreaking. Listen to LL Cool J’s “Rock the Bells” — some of them sounds, man! When you bring it back now, some kids might be, “What the fuck is that? Where did that come from?”
The first hip-hop song that you got into, Ice-T’s “Reckless,” is nearly 30 years old but its beat still sounds insane.
You could take that beat today and probably throw Drake on it and it would be fucking crazy.
On the new song “Legacy,” you set up your early story almost as a superhero origin: You got your powers from hip-hop.
Absolutely! Hip-hop saved my life, man. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been even decent at. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known how to do. I don’t know how to do anything else. I think they have a word for that — what do they call it? Idiot savant?
I mean, you’re too good at too many things to really bean idiot savant.
Thanks, man. I mean, that’s open to interpretation.
Besides LL Cool J’s autobiography, you never really read books, but comic books were a big deal for you growing up.
It’s more about admiring comic-book art. I liked that fantasy world, fuckin’ bizarre shit. Some people say that some of my songs have been cartoonish. My problem is when I read something, unless I wrote it — and half the time when I did write it — I can’t process it. I don’t know if I have the attention span to sit and read a sentence. As I get into that sentence, that might trigger a thought, and I go off and start thinking about something else and then I’ll read the next sentence, and then I have to go back because, wait, what did I just read? And then I have to read one paragraph 10 fucking times. So I don’t read.