A couple nights ago, I was hanging out in my room, getting organized, purging myself of possessions, plugging in power strips, moving stuff around in some sort of manic episode. As I did this, I listened to the “Marshall Mathers LP”, from start to finish – quite an experience. I have favorite songs which I go to specifically (“Drug Ballad”, “Criminal”, “The Way I Am”). But listening to the CD all the way through is another thing. It’s operatic. It’s episodic. It’s schizophrenic. It’s fascinating. Every time you think you can say, “Okay, so THAT is the real Eminem … THAT is Marshall Mathers…” he does some jujitsu move, upending your expectations of him. He refuses to be pinned down.
Jen came home, and hung out with me for a while. The two of us rocking out in my room.
I said, “I have listened to this entire CD all the way through. I feel like I’ve been reading The Canterbury Tales.”
There was a long pause and then Jen said, calmly, “I bet that that is the first time Eminem has been compared to Chaucer.”
