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How does Eminem keep defying expectations, veering further into the abyss of terrible music? It’s a perplexing phenomenon, worthy of scientific inquiry. Despite over two decades since his pivot into musical mediocrity, he continues to plumb new depths of awfulness with astonishing consistency.

The artist’s 12th studio album, “The Death of Slim Shady (Coup de Grâce),” is slated for release later this year. Could its release mark the end of Eminem’s career? One can only hope!

It’s not a cheap jab, more a plain observation: Eminem’s reign as a cultural titan has waned. The 51-year-old has morphed into a mere echo of his former self, the dynamo who stormed onto the scene in the ’90s. For evidence, look no further than his recent release, “Houdini,” a tune that can only be described as a tragic misstep. Taken from Steve Miller Band’s “Abracadabra” and his own 2002 hit “Without Me,” the track embodies Eminem’s current state: sad, stale, and wildly out of sync.

When Eminem released his second studio album, “The Slim Shady LP,” in 1999, he wasn’t just a rapper; he was a phenomenon. His lyrics were as sharp as his wit, slicing through the cultural fabric with a blend of dark humor, brutal honesty, and unflinching self-awareness. Eminem’s early work, including “The Marshall Mathers LP,” solidified his place in hip-hop history, earning him accolades, legions of loyal fans, and the title of one of the greatest rappers of all time. These records were more than just music; they were sociocultural commentaries delivered in a style that was — and still is — utterly electrifying.

Eminem’s early success centered around his ability to channel raw emotion into his music. His lyrics were confessional, providing a window into the psyche of a man grappling with inner demons and societal pressures. Tracks like “Stan” and “The Way I Am” showcased his storytelling prowess and his knack for capturing the zeitgeist. He was a voice for the disaffected youth, a symbol of rebellion, and a master of his craft.

However, as the years rolled on, the quality of his output began to wane. Albums like “Relapse” and “Recovery” had moments of brilliance but were bogged down by inconsistent production and clunky rhymes. The Eminem of old, who could weave complex narratives with ease, seemed to be struggling to find his footing in a rapidly changing musical landscape.

His recent releases feel like a desperate attempt to cling to his former glory. His lyrics remain fixated on shock value, with frequent references to his genitals and other puerile subject matter. It’s as if Eminem hasn’t realized his audience has grown up, even if he hasn’t. This refusal to evolve has rendered his music increasingly irrelevant in a genre that thrives on innovation and progression, with artists like J. Cole and Kendrick Lamar regularly releasing deep, introspective tracks. 

The rapid-fire delivery that once set him apart now feels like a gimmick, a parlor trick he trots out to distract from the lack of substance in his lyrics. His attempts at self-reflection and vulnerability, which were so powerful in his early work, now come across as self-indulgent and hollow. Moreover, Eminem’s insistence on being the enfant terrible of hip-hop has made him a caricature of his former self, an elderly rapper clinging to a past that no longer resonates with the present. 

Lyrically, Eminem’s wit and wordplay, once razor-sharp, now feel anemic and predictable. Gone are the days of biting social commentary and incisive critiques; instead, we’re left with a collection of tired tropes, recycled rhymes, and inordinate amounts of toilet-themed humor.

It’s a tragedy to witness an artist who once stood at the top of his genre, a man who commanded respect from his peers, devolve into a shadow of his former self. Eminem’s early work will always be remembered as groundbreaking, but his inability to adapt has tarnished his legacy. Music that thrives on shock value often falls victim to the law of diminishing returns.

Eminem may have captivated audiences with his brazen disregard for political correctness, but beneath the surface, there was little substance to be found. Unlike controversial rap acts like N.W.A., whose explicit lyrics were often a vehicle for important social commentary, Eminem’s shock tactics felt more like empty provocations than meaningful statements.

The Missouri-born rapper’s fall from grace is a cautionary tale about the dangers of refusing to adapt, of clinging to past glories instead of embracing the future. Eminem’s decline is a reminder that the hip-hop landscape is littered with the remnants of once-great artists who failed to heed this lesson. Eminem, unfortunately, appears to be the latest and most notable casualty.

John Mac Ghlionn is a researcher and cultural commentator. Follow him on Twitter, @ghlionn