Encore

Eminem used to be fun. Sure, he was crude, obnoxious, and insecure, but he knew how to find humor in all his life’s messes. These days, Slim Shady is earnest and depressing, and he spends half of Encore apologizing for the missteps and misunderstandings that have been his constant companion. “Never got a chance to say I’m sorry,” he rhymes over creeping synths on “Evil Deeds,” while “Yellow Brick Road” explains the origin of the racist rhymes dug up by The Source last year, then asks for forgiveness. Has the crazy motherfucker who didn’t give a fuck finally grown the fuck up? Maybe. When he’s not making peace with his mom, he’s explaining his complicated relationship with his baby’s mama, speaking out against hip-hop beefs, or getting political on our asses. His disses are obvious and rarely playful, and the production, mostly by Emimem or Dr. Dre, plods along like a G-funk death march. It’s not like Em’s skills are in question, he just doesn’t get the same kick from showing them off anymore.