Whatever You Say I Am_ The Life and Times of Eminem - Anthony Bozza [124]
One thing is certain: Eminem is going to be willfully unavailable for a while, in light of his banner year, 2003. He’ll be sorting out, in his way, what Eminem means. He is beloved by the mainstream, but Eminem has made it clear already that he has no desire to join it any more than he has; and by all indications, no one minds. He turned down the opportunity to perform at America’s most coveted mainstream gathering, the Academy Awards. He did not attend, yet he won Best Original Song from a soundtrack for “Lose Yourself”; the statuette was picked up by Luis Resto, his keyboard player and musical collaborator. Eminem similarly declined a performance slot and ticket to the American Music Awards. He won four awards that night, all accepted by Mekhi Phifer, his costar in 8 Mile, who at one point showed the audience his cell phone, said Eminem was on it, and thanked them for him.
A retreat is in order for Eminem, whose sense of timing and image management are nothing short of exceptional. He will not be taking a vacation; his year is already full of production work for D12 and Obie Trice, whose projects are the next two albums slated for his label, Shady Records. Eminem hasn’t had more than a few days off in four years; his downtime before his latest record, The Eminem Show, was spent in court and making 8 Mile. “I haven’t had any long breaks or solid rest really since this started,” Eminem says. “When I do get a few days, sometimes I take the family up north, like my aunt and uncle and Hailie. There’s cottages and stuff that we rent, but what happens is that I’ll start writing and I can’t control the thoughts, so even when I’m not writing I’m working.”
Eminem lives in the world he dreamed of, the one he threatened to create when he gave up on fitting in back in Detroit, when he birthed Slim Shady. He is a producer, one of the top rappers making music, the head of a record label, a burgeoning actor, and the owner of a clothing line. He is a perfectionist, as critical of himself as the hip-hop purists waiting for him to make a mistake.
“He’s got to be under so much pressure now,” says photographer Jonathan Mannion, who has shot Eminem for his last two album covers. “He’s got more responsibility and so many more people interested in him and everything he does at every second of the day. That’s got to wear on you, harden you a bit. You know, the Grammys was the first time that I saw him where he just didn’t even seem like he wanted to be around. It was the first time I didn’t see him, like, trying to hide a smile after winning an award.”
“I’ve always felt, since my first day of rapping, that my time is ticking,” Eminem told me in 2002. “The day that I made it, I felt that my time was ticking. I always feel that my next album could be my last, so I have to give it everything that I’ve got. And that’s how I’ve set the standards for myself and that’s how I’ve based my whole career, that this chance may never happen again. I invest my money, and you know, I treat every dollar like it could be my last, every album like it could be my last, every song like it could be my last. That’s how I make my music.”
When Eminem resurfaces, all eyes will be on him. In his absence, he leaves the legacy he longed for, the days of “wilding out and being violent” reminiscent of N.W.A and 2Pac, that was nonexistent in the hip-hop mainstream of 1999. Hip-hop tastes in 2003 are leaning again toward thug-life stylings not seen in years, indicated by the record-breaking debut sales (1.5 million copies in a week and a half) and utter industry dominance of Eminem and Dr. Dre’s Shady Records artist, 50 Cent. Inter-artist conflicts are starting up again, as are incidents of violence, from the tragic death of Jam Master Jay of Run-D.M.C to drive-by shootings at the offices of Violator Management (who handle 50 Cent and Busta Rhymes among