Following 2004’s disappointing Encore, Eminem’s Relapse was a welcome return to form, sort of. Like most of his work, it is split about equally between the frivolous, the violently misogynistic and the powerfully personal. This time out, though, that formula felt a bit strained.
I found myself tempted to skip the “shocking” stuff (ok, ok, you cut off her head, next!) to get to the confessional material. Eminem is not going to grab headlines for being outrageous and controversial — not anymore — so he should settle down and craft an album that sounds, start to finish, like it was written by a grown-up.

After seeing Ben Folds in concert recently my sister made the astute observation that Folds is half sensitive, perceptive songwriter and half obnoxious frat boy. She’s a big fan of the former and not too keen on the latter, and was upset that the frat boy played a prominent role in the live show.