IN JUNE OF 1990, amid the media frenzy over 2 Live Crew’s album As Nasty as They Wanna Be, The New York Times ran an editorial entitled, “Nasty? Try New York,“ in which the author is confronted by her daughter about the censorship issues surrounding the 2 Live Crew controversy while the two are walking at night along a garbage-strewn street in the Big Apple. Though the author is not pro-censorship, she confesses that she would be unhappy if her 11-year-old daughter were to recite 2 Live Crew’s lyrics some morning at the breakfast table. But the kid is asking, “Don’t you think it’s horrible when the courts interfere with an artist’s work?” It’s a tough call to make for a concerned parent, whose current objective is to navigate the pair’s way over a dirty mattress and its two homeless occupants. The naked tension implicit in literally stepping over two transients gives the author need for pause. She comes to a surprising conclusion: “And now, totally confused and ashamed, all of a sudden I saw nothing wrong in the four-letter words sung by 2 Live Crew. By the end of the block, I had concluded that probably within 10 years we will miss As Nasty as They Wanna Be as an example of refined moderation in depicting the world.”
It’s 10 years later, and I’m eyeing the sexy, toady little white boy on this month’s cover of Spin. He’s been on the cover of just about every magazine I’ve picked up lately, and I’m wondering why we’re all paying so much attention. The man’s irreverent. Big deal. He profanes; he’s raunchy; and in his lyrics, he spares no one. He’s a white-trash superstar and all the kids seem to think he’s a bad boy.
But I’ve got the Spin cover right here in front of me, and Eminem, with his hoop earrings and his bleached-out little Caesar cut, is not very tough-looking at all. A 27-inch neck is scary, but Slim Shady is the size of a hasty flick of my aggravated forefinger. So why does it feel like our entire country is all set to blow a gasket over him?
It’s too much press for a mere controversial rapper shouting over some funky beats. A short list of periodicals that wasted my time on the cult of Eminem over the last six months would include: Spin, Rolling Stone, Time, Newsweek, The New York Times, Ms., The Advocate, and even, sad to say, The Stranger. People want the record review, the coverage of the live show, and the interview. And if there’s a juicy story, any music journalist would be a fool not to make mention of it. At which point, the job’s basically done, right?
Still, if I choose to read about music lately, I am forced to sift through countless articles for and against the emotional baggage of a man who is sharing a good laugh with his management over milking us for every penny he’s now worth. He wins because he’s white, violent, and very mainstream. We’re following his every move because our kids are, too. He has fantasies about murdering his wife and raping his mother–oh, and did you know his wife attempted suicide?
As the articles pile up, along come the special interests to unwittingly behoove a publicity-dependent career. GLAAD, NOW, and all the others are on the bandwagon, not having it. It is logical to fear that violent, chart-topping, anti-gay song lyrics may encourage impressionable young bigots everywhere, perpetuating intolerance toward homosexuality in schools and streets. I dread the image of a frustrated young man with a 40 and a hard-on, giddily reciting the sexist venom from a song like “Kim” as he drives to a date’s house, expectantly. Ours is a fucked-up, inexplicable culture–but, the last time I checked, the Bill of Rights was still intact.
Eminem is not the root of all evil. You can bet he hates gay people, whether he ever fully retracts his statements or not. And as for women, the tattoo on his chest tells his wife to rot in pieces, and she recently attempted suicide–my guess is, there’s not a whole lotta love and respect going on in the Em and Kim household. But is that really our problem?
My mom always said that the best way to deal with someone who picks on you is to go play elsewhere. She said if you stop paying attention, you take all his fun away. Or you could get yourself all revved up, find him backstage somewhere, and knock a few of his teeth into his head. Just do your business and be done with it, because Eminem’s going to be hanging around and raking it in for exactly the length of time that it takes everyone else to lose interest.