The Weekly Coos

As fans, sometimes you get duped into thinking that the final product isn’t close to the quality of the singles leading to the album release. It wasn’t the case for Eminem, specifically when his zaniness shined through a balance between the Slim Shady character and Eminem (before Relapse); unfortunately, since his sobriety, the Slim Shady character would come out more forced than not, and I shouldn’t have been so foolhardy to believe that there would be some substance coming in his new album, The Death of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce), would at least have some six or seven tracks I could keep in rotation. That was not the case; The Death of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce) is arguably one of his worst excursions as a rapper; it’s coming from all cylinders here, considering his hands are nearly everywhere from barely any memorable verses, and wasted beats. It’s safe to say I wanted to like this, especially as the second single “Tobey” slowly started growing on me due to the features making 2/3s of the track worth sitting through. I can’t recommend this album at all, especially when you can go back and relive the height of peak Slim Shady.

Listening to The Death of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce), I fooled myself into thinking it was redeemable the more it went along, but the opening track, “The Renaissance,” fooled me—it is reminiscent of 2000-02 era Shady, from his flow to the production positively; it immediately goes downhill from there. It stumbles through typical checkmarks of modern Eminem, like the over-sensationalized choruses or the forced focus on the concept, making the tracks less authentic with their relatively grounded themes, being corny and leaving these songs hanging as they try to flex in its modus amongst the plethora of tracks. What made Slim Shady work was the fluidity of his lyrics without trying to add attention, like when Jim looks at the camera after a gag or joke in The Office, and that’s only part of the problem. Eminem comes off as a pick-me rapper, trying to force controversy and create a narrative that isn’t prevalent today, i.e., topicality. It is what separates the intuitive greatness of “White America” from The Eminem Show to that of “Evil.” It’s the old man yelling at the clouds because he has felt stunted as a creative due to wokeness.

From the moment we jump in with “Habits,” it’s a mosh posh of anger, corniness, and mediocrity as Eminem poorly balances the two, making it seem like he’s in a studio delivering these specific rhymes with a gun to his head via a washed Slim Shady. That is sort of true, the washed part, especially as we hear that happening slightly with “Habits,” where Eminem tackles his past addictions but it starts with Slim making him eat a pill and still not bringing the best out. From there it doesn’t get better. Eminem riffs much about how he can’t say the R-word though rappers like Boldy James say it keenly without caring about batting an eye; star power does play into it for sure, but it’s so noticeably drab with Eminem, like on the forgetful “Lucifer.” It’s on par, if not more annoying than the constant jabs at Caitlin Jenner, and pushiness with trying to offend everyone. Today, nobody truly cares for this kind of shock value raps, especially when they are substanceless and not topical with Hip-Hop. This includes the callbacks he gives us, whether it’s a production style or flow, it makes it more of a nuisance to drudge through.

Eminem’s main onus, though satirical, is to get canceled, and he isn’t subtle or making it clean. He is resurrecting to kill someone again, but nobody has truly cared about Slim Shady for the longest. When you realize he still has juice in the tank to deliver it’s an egregious disappointment to hear him push such weak stuff. But there are rare positives to note, like his two more personal tracks “Temporary” and “Somebody Save Me,” which bleed into themes of addiction, self-worth, fatherhood, and more as Eminem gets sullen with his thoughts and pours them out for us to reel in. From the moments Slim and Eminem occupy the same space, “Guilty Conscious 2” does it powerfully, another rare sequel-like W after the fantastic “Bad Guy” from The Marshall Mathers LP 2. His new signee, Ez Mil, shines on their track “Head Honcho;” JID, Babytron, and Big Sean, do so as well on their respective features, and it’s these small moments that land, which says a lot for this album—even more so, when Bizarre makes an appearance with the final verse on “Antichrist,” leaving us with a memorable verse, but wasted because everything before it doesn’t work.

The Death of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce) lives and breathes through the vocals because the beats can only do so much, and with some, they feel wasted, like that of “Brand New Dance,” where its nuanced funkiness is derided by a weak attempt to take jabs at Christopher Reaves again. The same goes for “Antichrist,” “Road Rage,” and “Bad Ones,” which tap into sounds from that era of Eminem where this music was more pronounced, except the lyrics and flow don’t match the quality the production delivers. As much as I can commend the quality here, it’s only as serviceable as the delivery; frankly, many are misses. It’s a disappointment we couldn’t get something tighter and more constructed from the legendary rapper; sometimes you have to fall on the sword of wack again before returning more emphatic than ever—Revival to Kamikaze. It’s just a wash all around.

In the end, I’m left here wondering what could have been, and as of now, it’s all what-ifs and mysteries about what a good version of this album could be, but the more I do, the more it hurts my head. I wish I could recommend this album, but I won’t. There were better hip-hop projects to entice you, like the Common & Pete Rock album or Blu & Evidence, and I would easily recommend those before thinking Eminem had juice with The Death of Slim Shady (Coup De Grâce). Skip it entirely.