Eminem: London Arena

It's Eminem's fourth time over to a country he hates. Two years ago, he mooched unknown around Kensington High Street chatting up girls; last year, he played Brixton Academy and recorded an unbroadcastable performance of 'The Real Slim Shady' for 'Top Of The Pops'. This time, he returns as the world's hottest pop star. The protests, the court cases, the incessant media coverage describing him as everything from a psychopath to an eminent poet... after a week of hype like this, anything short of the Second Coming would have been a letdown.




So admire Eminem's nerve for putting on something - despite all the flash sets and costume changes - that is recognisably still a rap show, with all the traditions (and some would say deficiencies) that involves. A million miles away from his seamlessly choreographed MTV extravaganzas, the sound is muddy and nowhere near loud enough, the man comes mob-handed with proteges D12, and some of the best songs - like 'Forgot About Dre' - are brutally truncated just as they're hitting their stride. You'll know all about the most showbiz elements by now - Eminem's stunning entrance wielding a chainsaw in a Jason mask, the extended cartoon linking parts one and two, and the taking of Ecstasy onstage (which the police hilariously seem to think is real - Detroit, whut?). But the spirit of the gig is still rowdy, raw and crude. D12's extended frat house 'joke' 'I Shit On You' shows that it's still possible to bring misogyny downmarket, while 'My Name Is' is turned into a thirty second skit ending in yet another *N Sync diss. It's certainly not the razor-sharp hitsfest befitting his mega-selling status - but that, of course, is the point.




Nevertheless, 'Stan', augmented by a glamorously-attired Dido, hits the crowd like a loved-up Ibiza anthem (some goon in the audience even waves an umbrella), though Eminem annoyingly omits the sensational final verse. 'Criminal' (or the ninety seconds we were allowed of it) is still a landmark in the history of popular music. The film of raw meat being sliced that illustrates 'Kill You' lends a genuine stealthy nastiness to a show which otherwise has all the menace of a copy of 'Loaded'. The celebration of disfunction that is 'The Real Slim Shady' sends the crowd home happy and proud to be out of their mind and out of control. And after this week's media madness, 'The Way I Am' has never sounded more pertinent. Despite the gallons of spilt ink, the only definitive take on Eminem still comes from the man himself. And he looked very handsome too.



Alex Needham