Disinterested Eminem Consumer, Turned Hater

September 22, 2010

Why is it always so damn loud? The entire world, creaking from the gravitational pulls of planets and stars. Giant asteroids, flying through space, the atmosphere suffering from the constant barrage of their debris. The sound of history, weighting down upon us as we hurtle through life — insignificant in the grand scheme of things, mere whispers in a hurricane called life, to borrow a stream of meaningless clichés.

And yet, despite all this, I have just heard, for the 3rd time today, Eminem making puns about window pains as he shouts his way through another ‘song’. As low an art form as rap is these days, has it just finally given up? Has rap finally just squatted down, overbearing weight on its unsteady knees, and given gastric flow to puns? WINDOW-BASED puns?

For those that haven’t heard it…

If a window metaphor is so vital to your song, how about rhyming defenestrate and penetrate? See? Just off the top of my head.
Or just saying them consecutively, shitty words flowing into each other as you shout your way through another hit, artfully relating the act of throwing someone throw a window with the act of shagging some tasty hoe.
That’s only slightly less shit then your lyric, and I just came up with it there. I don’t even have a tattered notepad.

So, and this is what kills me. This is why we stand in clubs, sit in bars, pints in our hands and naggins wedged between our buttocks, screaming. Screaming our amusing anecdotes to each other into ears, in the vain hope that sound will travel from globs of spit, hurdling through the air, into an ear canal (any ear canal) and directly to the brain. This is why? This is music now? This is why I have to hum a catchy chorus to myself all day, while inbetween I just reel of a list of horribly bad puns, as if the entire cast of a Carry On film had a reason to hate their parents and somehow combated this by shouting? I’m waiting for the next hit, where Barbara Windsor sings a chorus that revolves around cocks crowing, while in between Eminem verbally abuses small children, “you can’t go pop-ping more pills, Mom! I guess that’s why you lean on win-dow, sill… Ly.”

Why do you shout Eminem? Why must every song be shouted in the same monotone way, verbally forcing a rhythm into housing features, or housing features into a rhythm?

I didn’t mind you know. I could’ve honestly said I could take or leave Eminem before this moment, before this lyric. He wasn’t my kind of thing, but whatever — he may have mistaken rapping for shouting about himself, but at least he didn’t have gold smelted onto his teeth, or shout about some bitches’ booty, or other forms of thinly veiled rape.
But you’ve jumped the shark on this one, and now I can’t take anything you’ve done, are doing, or will do, seriously. I’m sorry Eminem, but you’ve just lost a disinterested — but ultimately respecting — consumer.