The following is a recent interview I conducted with Marshall Mathers, AKA Eminem, about the release of his latest album, 'Recovery' and subsequent mind-boggling NINE Grammy Award nominations for that same album. I was lucky enough to be granted this interview with the multi-platinum selling artist because my literary agent (who is a friend of Eminem's agent) sent him an advance copy of my upcoming book "Things You Should Know About Me: Breaking down the myths of America's favorite megalomaniac automotive repairperson" . He was impressed enough with the book to want to meet with me in person to discuss the possibility of working together on his autobiography. I happened to be in Los Angeles for a few days and our schedules were such that it was convenient to meet at the Chateau Marmont in Beverly Hills. This is what happened when we met each other to see if we 'clicked' for a future project :
I arrived ten minutes early, as is my custom for formal or business occasions. The valet palmed my generous $5 tip and gave me a nod of thanks as he pulled away in my rental car. I walked into the iconic Hotel there on the Sunset Strip and informed the maitre d' that I had arrived. I was surprised to learn that the rap star had already been seated, and was waiting for me in a far corner of the room. As I was escorted to our table, I noticed he was chewing something frantically and stuffing some paper wrappers into the pocket of his oversized ski jacket. I felt a little nervous, and stood beside the table even after the maitre d' had left, waiting to be invited to sit. Mister Mathers was wearing prescription glasses that made him look sort of bookish. I was not expecting that.
He held up one finger in the air - wait a sec- with a guilty grin on his face, still chewing and then swallowing, before standing up to shake my hand. He was shorter than I had imagined him being.
MM (wiping his mouth with a fancy napkin) : Fuck man! You're EARLY. Caught me eating a 7-layer up in this bitch!
ZM (confused, nervous) : Oh. Hi! Yes. I'm here. I mean, YOU'RE here. 7 layer?
MM (trying to keep a low profile) : Sit the fuck down! Yeah, 7 layer. I thought I'd grab a snack at Taco Bell before I headed over for this thing. The service here sucks my dick. It's going to be FOREVER before we eat shit.
ZM (Sitting, pleased, excited, unslinging army-surplus messenger bag from shoulder and settling in): Oh, yeah. I've never been here before, myself. I've seen it in a lot of movies though.
MM (glancing over his shoulder to make sure he is not being detected by strangers): See that bitch over there? The one pouring that fucking wine? SHE sucked my dick. So did that other bitch way over there, that one takin' those dinner rolls to Richard Gere and his bitch. You know Richard Gere?
ZM (taking it all in, trying to think of something amusing to say): Richard Gere? Ummm... NO. Didn't he have a thing with a gerbil once or something?
MM (Suddenly getting upset): THAT'S what I'm talkin' bout, man! You all write your shit and read your shit and that's all it is - SHIT! That tabloid shit! Bunch of fucking LIARS! You can all come over here and SUCK ON MY BALLS.
ZM (shocked, desperately trying to fix things): NO! I don't believe or read any of those things, I would NEVER..
MM (Happy again, chuckling, cutting Zak off short): Fuckin' with you man! I know that shit. Shit, RICHARD GERE sucked my dick once! HA! (elevating fist over table, waiting for return 'pound' from Zak)
ZM (slowly getting it, not really amused, reluctantly tapping fists): Oh. Ha. Hey, do you mind if I get my tape recorder out? We could start the interview? By the way, and I hate to ask, but who is going to pay for this? Wanna' do dutch?
MM (Surprised at sudden appearance of microphone tethered to large gray plastic tape recorder): Well, usually, the INTERVIEWER buys the INTERVIEWEE their shit.
ZM (Opening wallet, taking inventory, doing some math in his head): Okay... That's fine. (points microphone a few inches away from Mr. Mather's face and presses the red 'record' button on the tape recorder, the wheels inside of which begin to turn) So, what do people usually call you? Marshall? Eminem?
MM (looking over shoulder again to check if he has been discovered here yet): Nobody calls me Marshall. Em. Call me Em. Where the fucks the waiter? I'm thirsty.
ZM (thinking for just a moment, and then) I prefer to call you Mister Mathers. You don't mind do you?
MM (looking a little upset) Well, I'D prefer if you called me Em. 'the fucks this 'mister' shit? WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT WAITER?
ZM (not feeling comfortable with 'Em', adjusting microphone): I'll get him. Her. Here she comes now Mr. Mathers!
(At this point, Mr. Mathers ordered two seventeen-dollar bottles of oxygenated mineral water (explaining/bragging about his sobriety - AGAIN) and became upset when he could not order a platter of nachos. He compromised instead on something involving a Peruvian Swordfish and tortillas, and an appetizer involving truffles and cream cheese. I stayed with ice water myself, concerned about the quickly-mounting restaurant tab. After waitstaff left us we continued with the interview)
MM: What, you on a diet, bitch?
ZM (Ignoring his comment): So Mr. Mathers, let's talk about your latest album, 'Recovery', is that title symbolic for something?
MM (glaring for a moment, but happy to talk about his music): Symbolic? Recovery? Yeah. I felt like I was... GETTING BETTER. Recoverin'. I'm pretty happy with this album. The whole thing was like, was like... a fucking EXORCISM, man, you know? I had all this shit I had to get out of my head, and I was coming off drugs and...
ZM (interrupting him, excited to have similar experience): Yeah! Like ME in MY BOOK, I had things I wanted to get out of my system, too! It was very therapeutic!
MM (steering interview back to his album): Yeah, so like, the whole fucking thing was like my life, and it was ALL REAL, from the first track through to the last..
ZM (interrupting, being honest): I didn't like the first track.
MM (annoyed, but not sweating it): YEAH? Well the guys at 'Vibe' liked it plenty. That shit is REAL. That's the REAL SHIT! I'm saying, the whole fucking thing, track one through..
ZM (interrupting again, being honest): I didn't like the second track either. In fact, when I listen to that album, I just skip ahead to number five right away.
MM (not believing what he is hearing): Wha? ... You don't like 'On Fire'?
ZM (being honest): No, Not really. No.
MM (a threatening aura beginning to radiate about him): You don't like 'Won't Back Down'?
ZM (unable to bend the truth): No. In fact, I HATE that song. I hate Pink, too. Maybe that's why I hate that song? I REALLY hate that song. And what's that bit about Michael J. Fox vibrating with Parkinson's or whatever? That's not even funny.
MM (glaring without blinking for a full minute, until plates of food are set in front of him, breaking the silent tension): That song's up for ALL KINDS of awards! The guys at Rolling Stone said...
ZM (sensing need to change the subject): I like number five though. That was the first one I liked. Then I REALLY liked number seven, even though it's a little corny. THEN, I went CRAZY for number twelve - '25 to Life'? I LOVE THAT SONG. I had that one song on repeat for about five days, I think. I love it when...
MM (shoveling food in his mouth between swigs of water, happy now, enjoying the compliments): Yehhm! saht's whattum shayyyin! Sss ite! (chewing, swallowing, again, pointing at me with his fork, a bit of fish dangling from the prongs falling back onto his plate) I KNOW! And the best part? That shit is REAL right there! The real shit! Shit wrote itself! (shoveling food in mouth, again) Shhthzz fawwwl mmm mmmnn awwl!
ZM (beginning to feel sycophantic, wanting to talk about his book for a minute): Yeah! I know what you mean. Kind of like when I was writing MY BOOK! All the stuff about suicidal thoughts, and drinking and driving and behaving irresponsibly? All true! It just came right out of my pen with almost no effort! Like that, right?
MM (thirsty, snapping his fingers over his head to get the attention of the waitstaff) Yeah. Like that. 'Cept I don't act like a pussy all the time.
ZM (not sure if he should be offended or not, sipping ice water, analyzing Mr. Mather's evaluation): Pussy?
MM: Yeah. It's sort of funny for a while, but all you do is whine all the time, Yo. You're like this kid I used to HATE in school who was always complainin' about how nobody liked him. Nobody DID like him, 'cause he was complainin' all the time how nobody liked him. Get it, Dog?
ZM (choosing his words carefully): Mister Mathers. First of all, did you just call me a pussy? A whining pussy? Wait. We'll circle back to that. Did you just tell me I remind you of a kid from school you hated? Secondly, Nobody, and I mean NOBODY complains as much as YOU DO in your music! Poor you! Poor YOU trapped in your fame! (on a roll now, going too far, as usual) The business about your mom and Munchhausen's Syndrome? REALLY? You want to kill uh ... Whatshername.. Uh - KIM? Your dead friend, PROOF? THAT'S WHY YOU DO DRUGS, TO ESCAPE YOUR AWFUL LIFE?? HERE! TAKE THIS TO WIPE AWAY YOUR TEARS! (Offering fancy napkin across table to furious rapper)
MM (Slapping napkin out of Zak's hand): You don't know shit. You sure as hell don't know about the REAL SHIT. Don't even talk about Proof, Bitch. Ya'll don't come up in HERE tellin' ME about my shit! Don't rattle my shit, Punk. Punk Bitch! You don't know!
ZM (not quite done): And what kind of name is that anyway, 'Proof'? PROOF? What does that mean? - AND, BY THE WAY, speaking of Proof, You rhymed 'bulletproof' with 'Proof' in that one song. I NOTICED. Isn't that cheating or something? That's not even a rhyme, technically, is it? And why do you insist on talking like a negro?
MM: (food falling out of slack jaw): Negro?
ZM (suddenly uncomfortable, but unable to backtrack): Yeah. You know, a .. a.. COLORED PERSON. (avoiding looking in the direction of Will Smith who is seated not-far-away, and now in a whisper;) you know what I mean, Jesus! Forget it.
MM: .
ZM: So. Anyway... It sure has been raining a lot! Especially for LA. Does it rain a lot in Detroit?
MM: .
ZM: (trying desperately now) : I like that song with Rihanna a lot too. Even The Helper likes that one! She sure is cute. Right? Rihanna, not The Helper, I mean. Do you guys know each other or something? Are you finished eating? Would you like some more water or something?
MM (finally pulling a soft taco deluxe out of his jacket, unwrapping it): These things are alright. I like the drive-thru.
ZM (relieved, confused): Taco Bell? What is that? A taco?
MM (after chewing and swallowing): Yeah, Taco Bell. They have the drive-thrus. I can't even go in 'em anymore 'cause I'm so famous and shit. Can't even go to Taco Bell! How you like that shit? Ain't that about a bitch?
ZM (learning to bend the truth, finally): Yeah. That sounds terrible.
MM (after making two selections from the dessert tray): Yeah, so MY ALBUM, I feel like I've, like, GROWN A LOT since the last few albums, you know? I've grown, and made CHANGES in my life, I've been going through all these CHANGES in the last couple of years, you know?
ZM (wanting to keep him talking): Oh. Like that song you wrote - 'Going Through Changes'? Sort of like that?
MM (Happy again): Yeah, that was real shit right there, too. I think that's one of the best songs on the whole fuckin' album. I put all that shit in it, you know - truth, positive thoughts, metaphors, similes, symbolism, fuckin' rhymes, fuckin' beats, fuckin' Ozzy.. That shit is TIGHT right there! Some TIGHT SHIT, right?
ZM (likes song, but finds no symbolism or metaphors in it, AT ALL): Sure! 'Changes' are like you, CHANGING, right? Because YOU'RE going through changes, and so is ... Mr. Osbourne? Or, do you mean, like, LIFE is full of CHANGES too? Everything is changing all the time, right? I see.
MM: Black Sabbath.
ZM: Excuse me?
MM: The sample in that fucking song. It isn't Ozzy Osbourne, it's Black Sabbath. Ozzy's too new.
ZM (confused, again, trying to tread lightly): Yeah, but isn't Mr. Osbourne the singer for Black Sabbath? Too new?
MM (looking over each shoulder to make sure his secret is not overheard): Samples. Those fucking samples have to be 25 years old, AT LEAST, or we have to pay for them. Ozzy's too new. Black Sabbath is over 25 years old. PLUS, fucking song is about fucking CHANGES anyway. ain't nothin' wrong with that song. Or Ozzy. I put a shout in the notes for his ass, anyway. Not payin' no FIFTY GRAND to use no three second sample! Dre'll do that shit, not me. If HE wants to pay it, I say let the Negro go and pay the fifty fucking grand. I'M not the one to...
ZM (triumphant, interrupting, honest again, pointing): HA! THERE!
MM (momentarily confused, then understanding, then indignantly rolling eyes): *I* can say that shit. YOU can't say it. MY BEST FRIEND WAS A NEGRO. Negroes love me! Do negroes love YOU? HOW MANY GRAMMY AWARDS YOU UP FOR? Snap! (then snaps his fingers in my face)
ZM (not wanting to explore this topic further, beaten, then looking through messenger bag for notes): Yes. Quite. Ummm... I have some questions I wanted to ask you. They're here somewhere in my bag. A notebook. It should have a green cover. (pulling items out of messenger bag; batteries, gum, pens, the wrong notebooks, protein bars) It's in here somewhere...
MM (getting bored, picking remnants off of his plate with his fork): You been to the Playboy Mansion yet? They got a Taco Bell on the way up there...
ZM (Triumphantly waving green notebook over head): There it is! Alright now... Let's see... (papers falling out of notebook on floor, stuffing them back in, thumbing through pages, finally giving up and winging it) ... I'll remember them, I swear. OH, I know! I've got one!
MM (watching with more than a little contempt, wishing he was in a Taco Bell drive-thru): Yeah? What?
ZM: Well, I noticed this last album marked a departure for you from your little skits between songs, most notably the skits Lampooning Superman. Christopher Reeves. You seemed to have some sort of bone to pick with the man. Even after his passing, you continued to poke fun, and I know some people found it offensive. Why? Why HIM?
MM (Interested in talking about himself again, and appreciating the intelligent question, but must ask): 'Poke Fun'? What are you, fifty or somethin'? ANYWAYZ , Well, Superman is like, SUPER, right? He's got all these superpowers and shit, right? But then the REAL Superman falls off a horse and gets his shit all fucked up and can't even walk! Ever see that sucker blow into that straw to move his chair around? You don't think that's funny? What's wrong with you? You need to get laid more! Let's roll on up to the mansion and see Hugh.
ZM (ignoring MM's accurate estimation of frequency of sexual accomplishment): Funny? Maybe. A lot of people may take offense to that though. And you did it for like... (looking through notes in green notebook).. FIVE albums. Why did you stop doing that this last album?
MM (getting serious, introspective, NOT thinking about Taco Bell for a minute): Well, like, my best friend Proof died, right? We was BROTHERS, man. I didn't get a chance to say 'goodbye' or nothin' like that, just POOF! and Proof was gone. That shit put my ass in a.. a... self-loathing state, you know? I got to thinkin' and shit, thinkin' about Proof dyin' , and I was GOING THROUGH CHANGES and shit, right? I realized that people dyin' ain't funny. Even Christopher Reeves. Even Superman dies, and it don't have to be funny, you know? Proof didn't have no wheelchair either tho'. Still, I don't think death is so funny anymore.
ZM (taking a moment to let the somber tone of this admission pass): Well. I see. Most people don't think death is funny, Mr. Mathers. Or wheelchairs. A lot of people don't think Parkinson's Disease is funny either, but you 'make cracks' at Mr. Fox two...no, THREE times on your new album. What if Proof had had Parkinson's? Would it be funny then?
MM (considering this for a moment): No. But Proof DIDN'T have Parkinson's.
ZM: No.... But IF he did? It wouldn't be funny to you then? A lot of people have Parkinson's disease and don't think it's funny.
MM (confused): Yeah, but PROOF didn't have Parkinson's... What are you saying? Are you saying Proof DID have Parkinson's Disease?.. Fuck are you sayin' about Proof, Yo?
ZM (trying to bring things back to manageable condition, AGAIN): No. Nothing about Proof, nothing. Just that making fun of other people's disabilities and misfortunes is not always funny. To everyone. (making important point now) EVERYONE is SOMEBODY'S PROOF. (pausing for a moment to let this brilliant insight sink in, then) Let's talk about something else. Something happy, Okay? (looking through notebook, remembering question) Oh! I see you did one track with old-time collaborator 'Dr. Dre' - who has been credited with 'discovering' you and who also produced your first three albums. How long have you known Mr... Mr... ANDRE , uh... Mr...
MM: Young? Dre? Andre Young? That who you mean?
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