The easiest reference point by which to describe this sound is Jawbreaker but there’s another entirely different level to what this Torrance, CA band is doing. Transposed with more intricate structures that flirt with the work of some of the best 90’s punk/hardcore bands like Ink and Dagger or Piebald, even Unwound, Joyce Manor keeps you unable to guess what’s next. However, the record is also extremely poppy in a way that sometimes hints at the neo-pop punk of bands like The Ergs, but the entire cacophony as a whole is extremely similar to the East Bay post Operation Ivy melodic punk sound like the short-lived Downfall.

The first track on this self-titled LP, “Orange Julius,” keeps a pounding rhythm layered with vocals that sound like a mix of the voices of Blake Schwarzenbach and Connor Oberst from his Desparacidos days. The one-off chorus brightens the song with Misfit’s-style “oh’s” before its abrupt end. “Call Out,” goes right into that more technical guitar sound that makes this band so interesting, with choppy drums that stray far from obvious punk rhythms. “Derailed” is a bit more straightforward melodic punk, but the underlying raunchy bass keeps a hard edge on this record, one that balances any underlying pretty-ness. The LP features a few songs from the EP, but the new tracks make this record well worth getting for those who already have Constant Headache. The song “Constant Nothing” has verses that are akin to 90’s 31G Records bands like Swing Kids, coupled with a chorus that (in the best way possible) sounds like a song from the first Suicide Machines record. Joyce Manor’s self-titled record is the first great punk record of the year and if it had come out in 2010, it would still be in the top 10. For anyone that likes the bands mentioned in this review, it’s a must own. I’d posit that Joyce Manor will quickly be a band mentioned in the same breath with the other underground punk bands that are now known for their interesting and progressive punk rock, bands like: Bomb The Music Industry, The Menzingers, Fake Problems and Frank Turner. Guaranteed, these songs will have you taking your phone out of your pocket to check what’s playing.

The post The Tipping Point for Joyce Manor appeared first on The Faster Times.

Leaves are falling, bellies are bulging and good television is returning-the summer is a distant memory.  So what better time to review what happened in hip-hop during summer 2010.

You can gauge how dead the scene was this summer by counting how many times you heard Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind.” And if you heard it as many times as I did, you’ll probably agree that it wasn’t a great summer for hip-hop. Nonetheless, there were a few notable exceptions that kept the season from being a total wash.

Big Boi – “Sir Lucious Left Foot … The Son of Chico Dusty”

Outkast’s less-outspoken half’s solo effort certainly wasn’t the album that I would have expected to be this summer’s banger-but I was wrong.  “Sir Lucious” was a crucial moment for Big Boi to show the world that he remains an integral part of hip-hop’s most soulful duo.

Its 17 tracks of sunshine tinged soul-rap make “Sir Lucious” the perfect summer soundtrack. It also features some of the biggest names in mainstream hip-hop. Of course, big name guests are de rigueur these days. But Big Boi makes sure to use each guest to their fullest potential, making them rap or sing over more complex beats than they’d be expected to grapple with if they were spitting a few bars on, say, the new Rihanna record. It’s clear from T.I.’s verse on “Tangerine”-a string-heavy groove with the catchy, “shake it like a tambourine” hook-that Big Boi makes artists work for their money.

Surprisingly, the record’s most pleasant guest appearance comes courtesy of actor Jamie Foxx. As a staunch believer that almost any acting to hip-hop crossover is a bad idea and being an overall hater when it comes to Foxx, I was shocked to find myself humming the melancholy R&B chorus of “Hustle Blood.”

Big Boi has managed to think outside the box throughout his career, and always successfully. The beats on this record are imaginative and wide-ranging, just like his flow. Big Boi has enough of a sense of humor to be likeable even when he’s talking about his “fingerprints on your butt.” “Sir Lucious Left Foot” has made Big Boi into a much bigger presence-both as a solo act and as a member of Outkast.

Drake – “Thank Me Later”

I was very slow to hop aboard the Drake train. First, I hated the name. Something about it made me assume the guy was some half-assed R&B singer, and seeing his face for the first time seemed to corroborate my suspicions. Secondly, I hated “Degrassi,” the Canadian drama that featured Drake in the role of Jimmy Brooks for seven seasons. I’ll never understand the adult obsession with this show. I guess I’m just a hater when it comes to anything that most people get into before me. Drake, in other words, had a lot going against him when it came to getting the Reiss seal of approval. Nonetheless, “Thank Me Later” won me over, and quick.

Something about Drake’s voice and flow feels very natural-nothing forced, nothing contrived. Hearing him for the first time, it’s clear Drake is a wunderkind. His deep voice with that slight rasp works whether he’s rapping or just doing his R&B thing. And crucially, the beats on this record are all originals.  Songs like “Over,” where the beat keeps changing but the music stays the same, give Drake a clean plate on which to display his skills.

But most importantly, the kid is clever. The many quips, jokes and one-liners on “Thank Me Later” are very satisfying. It’s nice to listen to a rapper that’s not afraid to be smart, but isn’t obsessed with showing it off (see El P). Drake proves that you can be intelligent, but still street.

Cee-Lo Green – “Fuck You”

Cee-Lo Green’s album, on which this single will appear, hasn’t come out yet. But his tune, which was released near the end of the summer, is by far the best hip-hop track of the season, and its accompanying video is the cherry on the sundae.

“Fuck You” points to the bebop resurgence that has been cropping up throughout mainstream pop (see Justin Beiber’s “Baby.”) However, Cee-Lo, unlike the other artists who’ve tried their hand at the genre, does so without over-modernizing the music. In fact, Cee-Lo’s use of the profanity in the hook is the only real hint that song was released in 2010. “Fuck You” is just straightforward bebop splendor. It’s hard not to find yourself gleefully cursing out an ex while driving around on a summer day.

Cee-Lo Green, like Big Boi, is half of a successful, slightly silly, rap duo whose partner is more well known. After the release of his Jay-Z/Beatles mash-up “The Grey Album” back in 2004, Danger Mouse’s name became something of a household name. Not so for Cee-Lo. A lot of people continued to think that the second half of Gnarls Barkley was the guy who did that “I wish I was a little bit taller” song.

“Fuck You,” with Cee-Lo now emphasizing his last name, has made the singer impossible to ignore. The highly stylized video has the vivid coloring we saw in Katie Perry’s “California Gurls,” but with a throwback “Happy Days” vibe that turns Cee-Lo into Kevin Arnold from “The Wonder Years,” bitching over his many unrequited loves.  But now “he’s rich bitch!” so he gets to say, “fuck you” and revel in his success-giving all of us permission to do the same.

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The post A Cee-Lo State of Mind: The Summer in Hip-Hop appeared first on The Faster Times.

In keeping with the ongoing debate about the current state of hip-hop, this week I offer evidence of the genre’s strength and relevance. 2009 was an interesting year for music all around. But it was the smaller hip-hop labels in particular that put out some of the best records of the year, records that expanded the scope of the genre. The best example of this is “Pomegranate,” the third LP from Seattle rapper Astronautalis (aka Andy Bothwell).

Astronautalis’ earlier records were more in the vein of familiar underground hip-hop acts like Atmosphere and Aesop Rock—metaphor-rich and tending toward the old school. But Bothwell’s style hinted at something richer. Stepped in American folklore and with a deep, gravelly voice and expert flow, Astro is the kind of larger-than-life character you’d expect to find in a Tom Waits tune.

Astronautalis has also gained notoriety for turning his ample freestyling skills into something more akin to improv comedy. At shows, Astro takes subject suggestions from the audience, usually four or five, and stipulates that they should have nothing to do with hip-hop or common hip-hop topics—things like cars, girls, money and the lack thereof. The result is a freestyle performance with no canned lines, and lots of surprises for both the crowd and the MC.

On “Pomegranate,” Bothwell somehow manages to evoke Waits, Dylan and Andre 3000 all on the same album. Dominated by old saloon style piano, strings and an underlying layer of electronica reminiscent of early Portishead, Astro’s latest is a hip-hop masterpiece that, along with recent work by P.O.S., WHY? and Sole, points to a potential hip-hop renaissance.

Watch this video for Astro’s “Trouble Hunters,” a single off “Pomegranate,” to get an idea of what I’m talking about, and then read below to find out where Astronautalis thinks hip-hop is headed in 2010.

Tell me about your musical journey? What brought you to hip-hop?

When I was 12, my older brother gave me a tape with Lord Finesse’s “Return of The Funky Man” on the B-side and Guru’s “Jazzamatazz Vol. 1″ on the A-side. Hearing that, coupled with Gang Starr’s “Hard to Earn” and all the De La Soul records, I fell in love. I always listened to American indie rock and Brit-pop, but rap got thrown in there in 8th grade and it changed everything.

More important than that, I was a skateboard kid, and I hung out with skateboard kids, and that culture in the ’90s was amazing. Watch any of the old Spike Jonze skate videos or the Transworld videos and just listen to the music, see the style. It was so diverse. It was cool to be into everything back then—it was OK to be a part of anything. And here I am trying to make music that is anything and everything. If it wasn’t for growing up in that culture, I am sure I would have picked a scene and narrowed my scope considerably.

What goes into being a good freestyler? How did you develop the skill?

Practice. When I started out rapping at age 13, I was as bad as any other white boy, but I just worked harder at it than any other white boy. This was, in fact, the only thing I ever really worked hard at. My use of topics on stage today was taken from a rapper named Supernatural, who would have people pull things out of their pockets and he would fit the item into his flow. I took that concept and really tried to push it as far as possible by doing more than just inserting the item into the freestyle, but by making the freestyle about the item, or even rapping from the perspective of the item. My friends would have me do things like battle myself, or perform both sides of a battle between wood and water. I grew up around wildly creative people—hey pushed me and I worked my ass off for almost 15 years now. That’s what it takes.

How did you end up working with John Congelton? Are you a Paper Chase fan?

I went to college in Dallas, and I started getting serious about music in (nearby) Denton and Dallas. I had worked with almost every member of The Paper Chase in some capacity, except John. But really it was all the work of Kris Youmans. Kris does the string arrangements for The Paper Chase (and played cello on “Pomegranate”) and serves as a sort of cultural king of Dallas. He insisted that we work together, he said it would be great—he was right. John and I are like kindred spirits; anyone can listen to our respective works and can see that. I remember right when I heard (The Paper Chase’s) “Said the Spider to the Fly,” I was hooked. I can’t wait to work with him again.

What do you think about the current state of hip-hop?

I think, with a few notable exceptions, the indie rappers are terrifically boring and the pop rappers are inventive and exciting, which is a total role reversal from a few years ago. If indie rappers want to continue to try and distinguish themselves from the mainstream with artistic credibility, then they need to work harder on their art form. In the meantime, I’ll take Rap-A-Lot over Def Jux any day of the week.

You appeared on Sole’s “Nuclear Winter” album. How did that come about?

Sole is the homey, and a longtime supporter of my work. He is also one of the rappers whose early work really spawned a sea change within me as a rapper. So when he asked me to work with him-especially on a project like that-I didn’t hesitate. I am really proud of the result.

I’ve heard you’re doing an album with P.O.S.? When can we expect a release? What else is in store for Astro’s future?

P.O.S and I have started and finished the first release from our new group, The Four Fists. It is a short EP based on the short stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald, and it should be out before the end of the year.

As for myself, I am working on another side project called Maxx Moon. It’s a group made up of myself, and an amazing producer out of Dallas named Picnic Time. He has done work for Erykah Badu, Kid Cudi and Devin the Dude. His music sounds nothing like mine and mine sounds nothing like his. We wanted to see what would happen when we worked together. I’m really excited about the results so far. In between all this, I’m producing a record for my friend Bleubird and writing for my new solo record.

Who would you like to tour with?

Joanna Newsom. I could watch her perform over and over for 100 years.

What do you think is the biggest misconception about hip-hop?

That “rap” and “hip-hop” are two different genres of music, that there is any real difference between mainstream rappers and indie rappers except for the size of their crowds.

What is “Trouble Hunters” about? What made you decide to write that song?

The Battle of Trenton. I love art that is unapologetic about its sincerity, which means I end up reading a lot of old books and listening to a lot of fight songs. The American Revolution is a subject that has become absurdly disconnected from our modern lives, and I wanted to write a song that attempted to show the sort of passion that drove those people in that impossible task. I don’t think I achieved that, but I think I wrote a pretty good fight song.

What could happen that made you feel like you’ve truly succeeded as an artist?

I am really proud of what I’ve managed to pull off so far, but the day I truly succeed as an artist should be the day I quit. There is always room for improvement. I guess I feel that real success can only be achieved when you find that your work is never done.

The post Planting the Seeds: An Interview with Astronautalis appeared first on The Faster Times.

A couple weeks ago I watched a rerun of VH1′s 7th annual Hip Hop Honors (which originally ran in June). I’ve always thought the whole shindig was just an excuse to gush, to make legend out of mere history. To my surprise, I found the show entertaining, inspiring and dare I say, kind of classy. Each year the VH1 Hip Hop Honors pays tribute to different hip-hop acts, and for the past two events they’ve focused on specific branches of hip-hop. Last year it was Def Jam, so the show honored heroes from the label like LL Cool J, Beastie Boys, Method Man, Onyx and the like. This year’s event was all about the Dirty South.

The show consisted of influential artists talking about the inception of their group Behind-the-Music style. The honorees included legends like Timbaland, Jermaine Dupri and former bad boys like 2 Live Crew and Master P (check out the full list here). Watching their stories played out in VH1′s slick, talking-head style felt moving in that “we made it” kind of way-the way I used to feel listening to Biggie’s “Juicy.” Predictably, 2 Live Crew’s feature was by far the most entertaining. The group’s lyrics are just timeless, like this one from 1995′s “Hoochie Mama”: “I don’t need no confrontation / All I want is ejaculation.” 2 Live Crew’s battle with the Supreme Court over their right to parody the song, “Pretty Woman,” reminded me of the Dead Kennedys’ battle with the Parents Music Resource Center over their 1985 album “Frankenchrist.” This was, in its own way, very rebellious music.

The tribute performances took up most of the remainder of the show. 2 Live Crew reunited to perform-which was wild. Even wilder were the super groups performing songs by the honorees. Bow Wow, Diddy, Dem Franchize Boyz and Lil John honored Dupree with a medley of So-So Def hits including Kris Kross’ “Jump.” Gucci Mane, Romeo, Silkk The Shocker and a few others honored Master P. Timbaland got his own set with Missy Elliott and Fabolous. Most exciting was a tribute to Organized Noize, an Atlanta production outfit best known for their work with Big Boi and Outkast. The Organized Noize super group featured Nelly and my favorite new mainstream rap act, Asher Roth.

All of which begs the question, what goes into a hip-hop cover song? When a rock band covers a song, they tend to change things up, sing a little differently or mess with the instrumentation, most of which just isn’t possible with rap. Have someone cover a hip-hop track and what you’ll get is something closer to karaoke-a different voice singing over a familiar song. And in fact the Hip Hop Honors resembled one big karaoke session: a bunch of fans getting together on a weeknight to sing songs by some of their favorite artists. The only difference, of course, being that these performers happened to be superstars in their own right.

Truth be told, the whole idea of a this show seems like an incredibly dumb idea, especially given the stagnant state of the genre. After my last column for TFT, many friends tried to convince me that I was wrong to say that hip-hop had fizzled out. Ari Katz, a buddy of mine who also happens to be a punk rock legend, told me that mainstream hip-hop was the most interesting and progressive music around. And he had a theory to back it up: According to Ari, rap artists have more access to the radio than any other musician. When a rock band writes a record, there’s a lag between the record’s inception and the moment it actually comes out (though the Internet is steadily closing that gap). When a new beat hits the airwaves, another artist hears it, takes the idea and creates a new track, and the cycle continues. As a result, rap grows and evolves significantly faster than any other kind of music.

Though I don’t necessarily agree with Ari, I’ve decided to open my mind to the possibility that mainstream hip-hop isn’t entirely without merit. Still, I think the genre’s best hope lies with the underground. Since discovering Kansas City’s Mac Lethal, I’ve found a renewed love for freestyle rap. See what I mean here:

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vyciQI5OqA

The post Hip-Hop Superstars Honor 2 Live Crew, Sing Karaoke appeared first on The Faster Times.

What has become of hip-hop? Rap music as we know it is on the decline. Just take a look at the Billboard charts: The highest charting hip-hop single, “Nothin’ on You” by B.oB featuring Bruno Mars, comes in at No. 17. Even on Billboard’s hip-hop charts, it isn’t until the fifth slot that we see an actual bonafied rap song-Young Jeezy’s “Loose My Mind.” The remaining tracks are mainly R&B. Don’t get me wrong, the Billboard charts have no bearing on my opinion of the genre. But it’s clear that the world’s, or at least the record-buying public’s attitude toward hip-hop has changed dramatically.

I’m not the first to say this and I’m sure I wont be the last, but hip-hop is the new hair metal. Both genres focus on the same general themes. For Motley Crew it’s all about the beer, the coke and the women. For Fabolous it’s all about the Henny, the blunts and the broads. Stars from both sides enjoy expensive clothing and jewelry, and in their debauchery and contrived idolatry, even the live shows are comparable.

Hair metal and mainstream hip-hop imagine worlds in which women are there to be demeaned. To wit: the lyrics to my very own mash up of a hair metal anthem by the band Krokus and a recent club hit by Lil’ John and the Yin Yang Twins. I call it, “Get Low Because Tonight Long Stick Go Boom.”

You all know about 69 Damn you fine Burning bones and bedside time Question been harassing me in the mind Can I play yo panty line? You give us fever, you give us sweat The sweat drip down mah balls

Tonight, long stick goes boom To all skeet skeet skeet skeet To all skeet skeet skeet skeet

Pop yo pussy like this, cause the Ying Yang Twins in this bitch

We gonna kick it, gonna break out through the ice I need all the ladies that know they look good tonight I wanna see yo ass dirt dance Get that touch of a magical light

Tonight long stick goes boom To all skeet skeet skeet skeet motherfucker To all skeet skeet skeet skeet goddamn

Godamn is right. But fortunately rap, like hair metal, is starting to look ridiculous to everybody, hence the Billboard charts. Having lived through a time where hair metal was the most embarrassing musical culture to be associated with, it doesn’t seem far-fetched that rap will soon be seen in a similar light. It began with the gradual tightening of baggy pants. And slowly but surely the hip-hop artists at the top of the charts had to do more than just rap to sell records-they had to become anomalies within their genre. Kanye West, for instance, has managed to separate himself from the pack by virtue of his innate musical talent, his ability to incorporate other genres and his sense of humor. (Of course, his epic ego has overshadowed most of the artistry of his best records.) Similarly, Lil’ Wayne has managed to individualize himself by adopting more musicality and handpicking elements from other genres. In “Lollipop,” one of his biggest hits, he played, or rather attempted to play a guitar solo. But by grasping onto the last few tricks that still play well in the rap game, Kanye and Lil’ Wayne have only managed to ensure their MVP status within a dwindling, increasingly demoralized team.

Of course, it may not be fair to judge hip-hop’s heath by looking solely at its mainstream artists. Top-40 hip-hop may have peaked, but there’s reason to have hope for the underground. The most prominent of this new breed comes from across the Atlantic. U.K.-born garage is essentially electro hip-hop with a bit of punk attitude, and the genre has really started to come into its own. Ever since the emergence of The Streets in 2002, American tastemakers have drawn attention to the style. But garage didn’t crack the mainstream until the recent success of M.I.A. The ease with which the genre melds dance music and hip-hop-the club and the street-has been a major influence on stateside hip-hop. Now the majority of new American acts-from MSTRKRFT to Busdriver-fall under the electro hip-hop umbrella.

Fortunately, the domestic hip-hop underground has also been pulling its weight. The Minneapolis scene has been on people’s radar ever since Atmosphere started to make noise back in 1996. Slug of Atmosphere’s label Rhymesayers Entertainment has been producing notable new stars such as Eyedea, who won HBO’s freestyle competition Blaze Battle in 2000. The artists on Rhymesayers, and in Minneapolis in general, have a tendency toward more challenging beats and lyrics that focus on introspective and provocative subject matter. Artists like Atmosphere, Brother Ali and Grieves have popularized a style that the media has since tagged as “emo rap,” “backpack rap” and “indie rap.”

The Bay Area label Anticon is another interesting product of the backlash against vapid mainstream hip-hop. The collective has been referred to as the “Crass of hip-hop” because of their tendency to make music that’s completely outside the box. Original label-head and rapper Sole was the first to gain prominence for his energetic, often nonrhyming style that had a tendency to lean more toward poetry than anything else. Sole has since left the label to focus more on his own music, but other acts like WHY? have brought a great deal of attention to Anticon.

Perhaps the best evidence of hip-hop’s continued vitality comes from Denton, Texas. Featuring the queer but compelling production of the Paper Chase’s John Congelton, Astronautalis’ album “Pomegranate” was one of 2009′s best. Astro, whose gruff voice flows like liquefied gravel from a Super Soaker, has even improved the freestyle game by asking audience members to contribute words for him to incorporate into his flow.

Artists like Astro and Sole show that the genre still has much to offer, that its future remains bright-and that maybe one day we won’t look back on hip-hop’s next chapter and cringe.

The post Long Stick Fizzle Out: Hip-Hop’s Decline and Re-emergence appeared first on The Faster Times.

From that party, there’s one particular image I think of the most: some kid, tall and chubby, wearing baggy clothes and a visor tucked into his curly red hair. He’s standing inside the screen porch next to the speakers that were blasting “Marshal Mathers.” His ginger face is bright red as his nasal voice shouts outs the words to “The Way I Am.” That looping, maniacal piano riff repeating throughout the track sounds like a modern version of “The Twilight Zone” theme song. And I watch him standing there, rapping along with Eminem, his eyes rolling back into his head while a pacifier hangs from his mouth.

Why did Eminem strike such a chord back in 2000? Why did kids relate so much to his macho, yet laughably cartoonish rhymes. There is absolutely no denying Eminem’s talent. His flow can be so complex—winding and whirling through his couplets—yet he always manages to come back around and tidy everything up with a joke. With his unparalleled control over multi-syllabic rhyming, Eminem is quite possibly one of the best rappers in history. But it’s been a decade since the release of “Marshall Mathers,” and almost as long since Eminem’s prodigious talent has been enough.

Eminem’s new album, “Recovery,” is hitting stores just over a year after the rapper’s last album (and first comeback attempt), the double LP “Relapse.” This is a bit strange for the rap game. A big name like Eminem, rarely, if ever, releases two albums right on top of each other. But the reason seems pretty clear: Eminem was disappointed with his last effort. He says it plainly enough in the album’s first single, “Not Afraid”: “Lets be honest the last relapse CD was ehh / Perhaps I ran them accents into the damn ground.”

He’s right, of course. The attempted Middle Eastern accent that Em affected throughout his last two albums was so annoying that anything decent about them was difficult to appreciate. But there’s another thing that made those records so maddening to listen to, something Em hasn’t been able to let go of, even on “Recovery”: the singing. Marshall Mathers can’t sing. Don’t get me wrong, neither can most rappers, but the singing on Em’s records isn’t just bad, it’s wrong, it’s trite.

Hip-hop just isn’t what it used to be. It no longer dominates the mainstream the way it did during the last decade. When “The Marshall Mathers LP” dropped, hip-hop was on top; every other genre lagged far behind. Now, mainstream listeners have started to embrace more melodic pop, even rock ‘n’ roll. In turn, some rappers have taken on a more sing-song rhyming style. And with MCs like Lil’ Wayne, it’s actually been successful.

But hearing Eminem conform like this, when his talent is so deeply rooted in his peerless ability to spit and flow, is disappointing. Part of Eminem’s allure is that he doesn’t conform. He’s two parts 2Pac , one part Sid Vicious. He “just don’t give a fuck.” Yet, he continues to try and sing on “Recovery” as if he no longer believes that his ability to rap is enough, as if he’s lost his confidence altogether. “Not Afraid” is the one song where Em’s singing isn’t unlistenable. The lyrics are about little aside from how confident he’s become and how great he feels. However, songs like “Cold Wind Blows” and “Going Through Changes,” where Em half-assedly attempt to sing the hooks, reek of inauthenticity in a way that’s reminiscent of Vanilla Ice’s metal version of “Ice Ice Baby.”

Still, “Recovery” is substantially better than Eminem’s last two records, “Relapse” and “Encore,” which, in the end, only makes it his best bad record. By diving into some truly personal issues regarding his drug addiction, Eminem had the potential to make “Relapse” a much better album than it was. If “Relapse” hadn’t been so clouded with singing, silly accents and unsatisfying beats, it would have been a good record. Eminem does some great work on “Recovery,” beat and flow wise. Even in a world where it feels like we’ve heard everything a rapper could possibly do, Eminem still manages to amaze with his flow.

When Emenim simply raps, instead of doings what producers and industry types tell him to, he’s at his best—as good, if not better, than he was on “Marshall Mathers.” Yet the emotional catharsis that Em seemed to be angling toward on “Relapse” is subverted by all the macho rhetoric on the latest record. Older tracks like “Stan” and “Kim” are a reminder that Eminem, aside from being a great rapper, has the ability to bleed out emotionally. But it’s been a while since Em elicited the kind of goose bumps that made “Marshall Mathers” so astounding.

But let’s return to the initial question: Why was Eminem such a cultural icon to my generation? Was it simply because he was a talented white rapper? No, Eminem’s profound influence had a lot to do with his drug use. That was what that redheaded kid rolling on ecstasy at my senior-year party took from Em’s music—just like so many kids like him at my high school.

Eminem talked about using pretty much every drug that exists on his first three albums. Of course, there’s some degree of tongue in cheek behind most of Marshall raps about, but I don’t think that redhead kid picked up on it—I don’t think a lot of kids at that party picked up on it. Young people at that time felt like Eminem gave them permission to use more and harder drugs. They all wanted to do lines of coke in the limo with Slim Shady; they all wanted to “pop two pills until their pupils swelled up like two pennies.”

Which is what makes “Relapse” and “Recovery” such potentially interesting themes. Part of why people like Eminem is because he’s always been so honest and personal with his music. Now that he’s older and felt what it’s like to be on top, he’s had to face the same realization that every pill-popper has: There’s always a comedown.

“Relapse” began with a skit about Marshall getting out of rehab and being attacked by a drug demon. A common part of drug withdrawal for many addicts is what’s called “drug dreams,” in which people’s drug of choice literally haunts them in their dreams. “Recovery” is riddled with references to drug therapy and the 12 Step program. During “Not Afraid,” when he says his demons are “doing jumping jacks now,” he’s borrowing directly from a common Narcotics Anonymous one-liner. It’s clear on the album that he’s gone through the ringer, gaining weight, considering suicide and losing his mojo. He admits to having considered writing diss-songs about Lil’ Wayne and Kanye West simply because he was jealous. This kind of honesty is a crucial part of what makes Eminem great.

But it just doesn’t seem like he’s considered the real nature of what he’s been through or how the world around him has changed. Em’s skills may be as sharp as ever, but if he really wants to make another great album, he needs to start asking deeper questions. When an artist creates music that’s challenging, that comes from his soul, there’s always that ethereal quality. The listener believes in what they’re hearing because the artist does too. It’s not easy to find such honesty in hip-hop these days. The best place to look is outside the mainstream toward rappers like POS or Asher Roth.

Somewhere within Eminem’s ability to be emotionally honest lies his next great album. But if he can’t find it, perhaps he ought to seek out that redheaded kid over at my buddy Patrick’s house—see if he’s figured anything out.

The post Eminem’s “Recovery”: His Best Bad Record appeared first on The Faster Times.