Saturday February 10th 2001

I’m feeling terribly alone. I seem to be the only person in the UK with no stand to take on Eminem. For the simple reason that his work is rap music, and I’m not a fan of rap music full stop. You’ll be amazed to hear. In much the same way as I don’t care for heavy metal. To me, rap is a genre entirely based on a fixed style of cock-of-the-walk macho attitude and rulebook aggression; of employing a regimented, limited set of hand movements at the audience; of wearing ugly shapeless clothes and backwards baseball caps; of swearing constantly (while only using US rap-approved statutory swear words) and of raising one’s middle finger and thinking such a pose is a serious statement of defiance, rather than a quick, surefire way of selling records to the “Kevin and Perry” set, the fat, ruddy-faced fourteen year olds in tatty black t-shirts down the front of the moshpit at Reading Festival. Eminem, for all his supposed originality, still works firmly from this rap rulebook, including the comedy middle finger part, and as a result can find no place in my meek and gentle heart. I’m sure he’s upset about that. Though I do prefer his videos to, say, Westlife’s, if forced at gunpoint to admit it.

I have no idea what Eminem really thinks, I don’t know him. So, actual music aside, I don’t have an opinion on whether he’s okay to like or not. Unlike everyone else. What amuses me is the hilarious rash of embarrassing bleatings by defensive Eminem apologists, speaking on behalf of someone they’ve never even met. Weird. You don’t have to apologise for liking Eminem. You don’t have to apologise for liking any music. Just enjoy it, for goodness’ sake, if you must, and let any implications take care of themselves. No one will die because of what music you listen to. God knows, if I had to defend my love of “High Fidelity” by the Kids From Fame…