Album Review: The Death of Slim Shady (Coup de Grâce) by Eminem
With his twelfth studio album, the Detroit MC is willing to leave his problematic alter ego once and for all.
Is he now America’s nightmare, a new Elvis Presley, or just an average overly technical rapper? Most of the judgments about Eminem are probably true. For example, if conservative politicians put the Detroit superstar on a par with Bin Laden, this only shows that Slim Shady’s media self-expression was more than successful. With videos full of dark humor and inciting manslaughter texts, he consciously shocks the strict US public right from the start. He slips into different roles to reflect the wrong-tongue double standards of America.
Over ten years between Eminem’s last successful long player, the Marshall Mathers LP2, and Revival, a crash landing in album form. But with his weakest outing as a musician, the rapper from Em found his lost drive again and decided to tighten the timing of his relatively sparsely sown releases properly. Now, with the follow-up to his last release, Music to Be Murdered By, he’s willing to leave his character once and for all with his twelfth studio album, The Death of Slim Shady (Coup de Grâce). The title alone carries more thematic weight than any in his 25-year career, suggesting a dramatic climax to the ongoing narrative of his dual personas.
Before killing his alter ego, as he promised in recent weeks, Eminem must put himself back in his shoes. He does so in the video for an OK track, “Houdini,” the first single from the album. The Rich Lee-directed music video opens with a message from rapper Paul Rosenberg’s manager, who dumps him after hearing the album: “Hey Em, it’s Paul. I heard your album. Good fucking luck, you’re on your own now!” As the “Guess who’s back?” chorus starts, Dr. Dre warns him that a space-time tunnel has opened in the city from which his alter ego Slim Shady, from 2002, has emerged.
At that point, in a continuous reference between the present (the Eminem with the beard and dark hair) and the past (the blonde Slim Shady), the appearance of various guests, including Snoop Dogg and Pete Davidson, and various digs, the rapper takes on the Robin-like role of the superhero Rap Boy to save the world from the very vulgar Shady and does so with the irony of someone who knows that years have passed since the video for “Without Me.”
As Eminem tweeted yesterday, this is a conceptual album. “Renaissance” reverts to the ’99 Slim Shady voice as he confronts themes of criticism and self-worth in the modern hip-hop industry. Others would call that complaining, but he navigates through his disdain for detractors who scrutinize works like Kendrick’s and Ye’s albums, noting that critics “would find somethin’ wrong with 36 Chambers,” thus highlighting the often unreasonable nature of public opinion. Grow up, Marshall. People will always find something to say. “Habits” follows the same vein as the trap beat with White Gold on the hook, while he tackles addiction and crass humor and critiques modern social issues with piercing wit, aiming at everything from gender pronouns to social media behaviors.
Following the criminally short interlude of “Trouble,” we got an Encore treatment with “Brand New Dance,” and sonically, that’s where the album lacks direction. Opening with a humorous misfortune (“Just got caught jackin’ off by your mom”), he sets the tone for a track that pokes fun at various disasters over an infectious party vibe that sounds goofy in hindsight. “Evil” delves into Em’s dark, unfiltered psyche, offering a reflective yet hyperbolic exposition of his mental state and lapses into aggression and controversy, oscillating between anger, regret, and bleak humor, showcasing the rapper’s unparalleled skill in storytelling and lyrical complexity.
The creative chemistry with Dr. Dre continues on “Lucifer” where Eminem switches between his personas, grappling with his fractured identity and tumultuous past, evidenced in the lucid yet chaotic delivery of lines, including “My followers are like a Satanic cult/Yeah, they listen to me, like when Manson spoke,” ultimately portrays him as a provocateur and a victim of his own success, with a relentless energy. “Antichrist” presents another controversial and confrontational lyrical performance as he proclaims, “Gen Z had a comin’ out, 'bout to unlock rounds/Prr-rrr-rrr, pronouns got me like woah now. Em paints himself as a misunderstood artist battling against society while wrestling with his demons, but the song doesn’t stick out in any way because you’ll forget about it as soon it’s over.
This album has some positive moments, starting with a JID-assisted “Fuel,” where he and Em go in with the bars. JID’s segment paints a poignant picture of his environment, capturing the essence of struggle and survival, while Eminem’s verse, fueled by a relentless delivery and wordplay, highlights his longevity and adaptability in the rap game, even if he has some cringeworthy lines:
“I’m like an R-A-P-E-R, got so many essays. S.A.’s?”
We have a sequel to 1999’s “Guilty Conscience,” in which Em masterfully engages in intense internal dialogue that blurs the lines between self-reflection and self-recrimination with a head-nodding Dem Jointz and Fredwreck beat. Eminem’s alter-ego dynamic is brilliantly explored as he battles with his conscience and the darker aspects of his psyche. “You created me to say everything you didn’t have the balls to say” and “You were socially awkward ’til you molded me” underscores the complex symbiosis between Slim Shady and Marshall Mathers. The narrative crescendos into a tense and almost theatrical confrontation, punctuated by the gripping imagery of a rear naked choke hold and a dramatic murder-suicide scenario.
As we all know, Skylar Grey gets flack for her features, but she wasn’t bothersome on the heartfelt Haile tribute, “Temporary,” imbued with candid vulnerability and emotional depth, addressing his daughter as he contemplates his mortality and lays bare his anxieties about leaving her behind. Featuring Jelly Roll, “Somebody Save Me” offers a self-reflective narrative steeped in regret and a longing for redemption. Eminem confesses to his failures as a father and the impact of his addiction, offering a glimpse into the complex emotions he wrestles with in his quest for atonement. Other features, including EZ Mil on “Head Honcho,” plus BabyTron and Big Sean on “Tobey,” didn’t break the mold or anything, but it’s skippable.
The Detroit rapper’s discography has long documented the conflict between Marshall Mathers and Slim Shady. While devoted fans closely follow this artistic struggle, casual listeners and critics often fail to distinguish between the two. Regardless, each album release feels like a major event, with this one raising the stakes considerably. The album’s over-the-top theatricality feels tailored to longtime fans, delivering the quintessential Eminem experience they’ve come to expect. The Death of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce) ultimately showcases Eminem’s ability to leave a lasting impact, whether as Marshall Mathers or his controversial alter ego. However, it does little to further his legacy.
- Oliver I. Martin - shatterthestandards.com
