#i do not fucking trust anyone spreading that 'oh they were actually legit accounts' shit and neither should you

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

seeing a lot of misinfo posts surging in the wake of Site Owner's Tantrum but there's a single point i keep seeing over and over that i really want to address:

tumblr banning users posing as black activists who were actually paid workers for the russian "internet research agency" is not some shit they made up to ban black activists

that was a very real psyop across multiple social media sites, and there were multiple governments and investigation orgs involved in tracking them down.

do not put actual black activists in the same fucking category as political catfishers who used uninvolved peoples' photos (putting them at risk of personal harm) while intentionally spreading misinfo and attempting to disrupt anti-racist and anti-fascist action, among other things

[thesinglesjukebox]

EMINEM - DARKNESS

[2.20]

We’ve come to talk about Em again...

Alfred Soto: Good lord -- an Eminem single called "Darkness," surprised yet? The Simon and Garfunkel interpolation and sound effects come off as cheap contexualizing for the sake of a bait-and-switch in which Em unmasks himself as Stephen Paddock. With critics paying renewed attention to the complexity of his flow, it's also worth stressing that ability tethered to self-pity deserves scorn. [4]

Brad Shoup: I swear to Christ I saw the title and knew he was gonna interpolate Simon and Garfunkel. But I also knew he and Royce were making their own "Six Feet Deep," and I was way off. Turns out it's a creative-writing assignment designed to keep the grader's pen dangling forever. What do you do with something detailed so painstakingly and painfully? The parallels Em draws are clever enough linguistically. (Has any song ever flattered Genius annotators more?) But the only ones that feel legit involve substance abuse. This is a megalomaniacal idea presented bashfully -- I should be grateful he isn't trying to do voice acting -- and framed thoughtlessly. The gunshots and screams are ghoulish enough without considering how the rest of his catalog uses them as cartoon gags. A fantastically bad idea that I will be thinking about for at least as long as the song's excruciating runtime. [5]

Kylo Nocom: Em forces the audience to endure his balladry, only to reveal that they were, like, empathizing with the Las Vegas shooter the entire time! The set-up is... intriguing (to call it "well-executed" feels like making another lame pun he'd squeeze in) yet it still sucks in many ways that don't even require public moral outcry: the sound effects spoil the twist way too early, his singing burps out remnants of emo rap, the beat samples fucking Simon & Garfunkel, and I still hate the sound of this guy's voice doing anything. To write any more on this feels like losing a game that Eminem will win -- a point he makes annoyingly often and remains true. But it's a shame that something meant to be poignant from the guy comes out as weak shock humor. [3]

Julian Axelrod: In theory, I'm not mad that Eminem is still trying to pivot to Social Commentary Anthems. I guess I'd rather hear him use his platform to wrestle with knotty issues than peddle stale punchlines about killing Honey Boo Boo or whatever. But what's really frustrating is Eminem's refusal to drop his gimmicks when it matters. You can't make a song about real life survivors and reference Saturday Night Fever. You can't condemn gun violence at festivals and condemn festival-goers concerned about gun violence. And regardless of the subject matter, you cannot punctuate a belabored alcohol-as-gun metaphor by muttering "Double entendre" like a sadistic, self-satisfied SparkNotes. That's the worst part: No one outside of Eminem's stanbase will be swayed by this, and very few within it will either. When will his reign of terror end? When no one cares. [0]

Isabel Cole: Oh, fuck you: for being tacky enough to open a limp-pulsing track called "Darkness" with a phrase that's been memed into meaninglessness and then marrying it to our particular American plague so that I feel irrationally bad about dismissing it with a flippant joke. But, fine, Eminem has put on his (boring, ill-fitting) big boy clothes, so let's do this. Being a grown-up, like being an artist, means being accountable for your choices, beginning with not just the choice to rap from the perspective of a mass shooter (although it's hard to imagine a level of artistic merit or political efficacy that would justify that decision), but specifically the choice of this shooter, this tragedy. It's easy to imagine why this particular incident would call to Eminem, from the infamy of the body count to the anxiety he must feel about the possibility of a similar event striking one of his own audiences. In choosing a mass murderer who remains so enigmatic, Eminem gets to dwell in the alleged mystery of violence, emphasizing its senselessness even to those who commit it. But it's more than the scale that makes that massacre unusual (although the scale also bears on the irresponsibility of his selection: come on, dude, how can you profess concern and not see yourself laying the groundwork for some other asshole to think "if I kill enough people someone famous will write a song about me?"); the perpetrator had no known history of domestic violence, but the majority of such men do. You can't talk about American violence without talking about American misogyny, and selecting a narrative that enables you to avoid the connection between the two marks you as someone with nothing to contribute to the conversation; implicitly generalizing this genderless narrative by layering news audio clips of shooting after shooting brings it from stupid to evil, emphasizing the pervasive danger of American culture now that men are dying too. This is of course particularly galling coming from goddamn Eminem, who has profited so handsomely from the commodification of violence against women. Galling partly because it retroactively dims whatever insights on the topic he may have laid claim to: rather than the inscrutable, almost mystical lost soul portrayed here, most of these men are something more like the narrator of "Love the Way You Lie" plus a couple years on the wrong parts of Reddit. He could have chosen to bridge that gap for his long-time listeners, to make the connection between hating the bitch who ruined your life and being self-centered enough to want to watch the world burn, but he didn't. Making me wonder what exactly he thought he was rapping about all those years, if he finds this form of violence so novel. [0]

Will Rivitz: I see Lin-Manuel's done away with his orchestra's string section. [2]

Andy Hutchins: The distance between "Hi, kids! Do you like violence? / Wanna see me stick nine-inch nails through each one of my eyelids?" and a three-verse double entendre that doesn't exactly strain itself to not sympathize with one of history's most nefarious mass murderers is not as far as one should probably walk in 20 years of life. A less clever rapper would not have found as many ways firearms buttress our vernacular; a cleverer one might have made this song about that instead of a five-minute trigger warning. A wiser one wouldn't have attempted this at all: Noble though the aim may be, there is no target audience here. [3]

Will Adams: Eminem stepping into the mind of a mass shooter is not surprising. Punctuating said narrative with in media res sound effects (shower curtains! pill bottles! loading clips! screams!), turning "The Sound of Silence" into a Talkboy sample, and making this shit five and a half minutes long? That takes extra chutzpah. [2]

Katherine St Asaph: I suspect the efforts to prevent copycat shootings were doomed ages ago, if not after Columbine then definitely after Rodger. Even if every mass shooter permanently closed off his chosen inspiration to all future comers, there are still enough sprees strewn throughout history -- hell, just through this millennium -- to produce years of trauma; and even if every media outlet declined to report shooters' names or manifestos, all of that would still circulate on chans and Discords (where they probably originated anyway) that any given proto-shooter is far more likely to read than the Associated Press, and infinitely more likely to trust. It's a failure of imagination: far easier to high-mindedly decline to acknowledge shootings than to reckon with them, to dissect and understand what makes them happen and more importantly what doesn't, and thus learn how to stop them. As a certain folk duo sang, silence like a cancer grows -- which brings us to Eminem's "Sound of Silence"-sampling, presumably cautionary foray into the Vegas shooter's mind. If your average caustic millennial isn't reading the mainstream news, he's definitely not listening to Eminem in 2020, and yet "Darkness" crumples under the burden of needing to not inspire anyone. The rapping is low-energy, the rhymes distractingly stiff or goofy -- trigger/convictions, booze/snooze -- the flow lumbering and often just bad. Where Disturbed heightened "The Sound of Silence" to Game of Thrones grandeur, Em and Royce -- perhaps building on a popular mashup -- desiccates it. The arrangement is the midpoint of Alex da Kid and "Teardrop": a smothering quicksand, meant to drag listeners into inertia and keep them there. (For all the gunshots-and-cussing masculinity of this, the piano loop reminds me most of Sarah Brightman's cover of "Scarborough Fair": delicately hypnotic.) Eminem conveys neither Slim Shady's glee nor "Love the Way You Lie"'s visceral anger, nor much but a morose slog, but give him this: It is mostly impossible to imagine someone hearing "Darkness" and buying a gun. Mostly. Why, if you're aiming not to inspire, would you musically accompany the killing-spree verse by finally moving past line two of "The Sound of Silence," to where the melody gratifyingly blooms upward? The vodka bottles in the video -- the lyrics' metaphorical gun, shown in appealing product-placement close-up -- are thankfully fake prop brands -- but then why do the close-ups at all? Most tellingly, Eminem chooses one of the few shooters with no manifesto to disseminate and few known motivations. Whether that's out of a desire to avoid spreading the truly hateful shit (which would be a recent development), to avoid the issue in general, or just to play the guy with the biggest body count, it means he gets away with lines like "you'll never find a motive, truth is I have no idea" instead of engaging with the specific kind of nihilism shooters are all too happy to tell you about -- a nihilism that is, in some part, his creation. When will this end? When enough people care what "this" is. Begrudging point for the part where, after Eminem says "magazines," the video cuts to actual magazines, like the glossy paper kind: the best trolling he's done in years, specifically of the sort of gunfuckers who were already halfway through a comment about him saying "clips." I suppose it's not the bleakest way he's made people laugh. [3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: At one point Eminem had the capacity to make jokes. He's way funnier here, his faux-double entendres and sampha-soundalike Simon and Garfunkel interpolation adding up to something so maudlin and obvious that it's almost impossible to listen to as serious political rap. It's not even disgusting. [0]

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