Whenever Eminem first started getting a lot of radio airplay – late ‘90s or so – I had a friend called ‘Earfytones.’ He wore browns, dark greens, grey and the like, but nothing brighter than that under any circumstance. Unfortunate for Earfy, or not, he bore a vague resemblance, physically and vocally, to Mr. Mathers. We thought that was pretty funny. And it was. But during that time, these were the only thoughts of Eminem penetrating the thick skulls of myself and my meager cohort. Instead, rap wise, what we focused upon were Lyricist Lounge and Company Flow. Of course, both that compilation and El-P have had an enormous impact on rap – in an underground sense at least. But this was the time that my opinion of Detroit’s shadiest character was cemented.

I soon secured a spot at some local record exchange dusting off albums no one wanted and displaying promotional items that weary labels sent us. That’s when I first encountered 50 Cent. And while I was stapling his ugly mug up all over the store, my co-workers and I joked about how ridiculous a name that was for an emcee. Welp, he’s a millionaire and M. Mathers is one of the biggest names in music, despite having a British man’s taint shoved in his face recently.

All of these things, though, have served to cement some idea in my mind about what and who these folks are – and no I don’t think that either is really all that beastly on the mic. 50’s weird mumble is pretty off putting and Em’s nasally delivery just makes me think about Earfy talking about jazz all night over some expensive beer.

On a recent car ride from a South Bay city to a BART stop, where I’d already been hassled by the murderous BART police earlier in the day, I had the chance to be given the audio tour of Em’s Relapse. Of course, it was more than readily available to me in digital form seeing as it’s splashed all over the internets, but I kinda just let it lay. I had no grand distaste for it and even guessed that I’d probably enjoy the Dre produced beats.

But I was stunned by the first track as Em goes in with a weird staccato approach to his delivery. It wasn’t disquieting, but I probably wouldn’t have guessed that it was him if not for knowing already what I was tossing in the cd player. That same can be said for one of 50’s verses. I can’t say that I was awed by it, but the thuggy menace of that deep voice wasn’t offensive to me in the least. Of course the production made everything better than it would have been if set against some lesser beats – there simply aren’t enough trombones in samples today. And can I get an oboe?

None of this greatly changes my view of these characters, but I can say that Relapse came off better than it could have. And now all we need to do is wait for Dre to finish up his own disc.