Marshall's studio was almost impossible to find. A grey building set between some warehouses and businesses, it didn't look like much.
I managed to convince a weary Murphy that Jax and Tony should stay behind in the car. I didn't want to look crazy- or worse afraid- strolling in with three huge bodyguards surrounding me. Murphy even said he'll only escort me safely inside and leave to give me space.
When we walk in, I feel like walking right back out. What am I even doing here? I can't even work on my own songs, who am I to give an opinion about anything? I'll be no use to Marshall if he needs any thing constructive. But I promised Proof, and they are expecting me so I continue.
I make my way through a maze of different hallways inside the building. Proof didn't say which room they'd be in, making them difficult to locate. The first was empty. The next, a red light on above the door indicating not to enter while the occupants record. But a peep through the window shows no Marshall inside either. It's not till I get to the end of the hall, when I hear familiar voices coming out of the room, that I know I've found them.
I push open the ajar door further and pause. Inside Proof is sitting in a chair, Marshall standing. Both in front of the soundboard with their backs to me. While Proof is in a bright yellow tracksuit and black hat, Marshall is wearing all grey; sweatpants, t-shirt and hat. And it seems I've walked in to them freestyling.
Proof flows with the beat as he spits, "I know the truth, so now I'm baring all. I make R. Kelly confess he stole his first style from Aaron Hall. A whack MC with a gun, I'm not one. And when see Kurt Cobain tell him 'bring back my shotgun'. I got one style for all y'all bazooka. A'yo if I was 2Pac I'd come back from Cuba."
Marshall laughs at that line- bringing a smile to my face at the sound- and when Proof finishes, he takes over. As always, I'm amazed at their talent. To rap like this off the top of their heads, and so well and on beat, it's incredible.
I stand in the doorway to listen in for a few minutes. They go back and forth rapping and laughing, not wanting to stop their fun with my entrance.
"Y'all wanna step to this, yo I come from the best hood." Marshall raps, "Detroit, the Motown, where it goes down...Kick the flow sound, rappers they know now. But kick a pro now..."
They've both been slowing down a bit and I awkwardly debate whether to say something or knock to acknowledge my arrival- no longer wanting to creepily be standing in the doorway watching them.
Proof, who had been swiveling his chair back and forth, was the first to notice me, "A'yo! Katie!" he jumps out of his chair, "You made it!"
Marshall snaps his head towards me, surprise clear on his face.
"Hey," I smile awkwardly stepping inside, only feeling a little more comfortable when Proof gives me a hug. When he lets go, I look between the two friends- Marshall giving me an odd look, "Sorry to interrupt."
"Nah, we're just messin' around. Free styling, you know?" Proof smiles big, "Em needs to work on his skills though. He'd never win a battle with that shit."
"What are you doin' here?" Marshall asks suddenly, ignoring Proof. He's clearly confused. So am I. Why is he so surprised to see me?
"I-" My smile falters and I look over at Proof who is avoiding eye contact now and I finally realize, "DeShaun!"
"What?!" He laughs, finding more amusement in this situation than I do right now.
"You didn't know I was coming here?" I ask Marshall and he shakes his head. I'm suddenly so embarrassed- I can feel my face turning red. Proof lied to get me here and I fell for it because of course if I think Marshall needs me, I'd come running. Ugh! Marshall must think I'm a freak! What has Proof done?
"But," Marshall steps forward with a warm smile, "I'm glad you're here."
I'm relieved to hear that.
"Me too." I smile back. Proof clears his throat and I look over, seeing a knowing smile on his face. I shake it off. "So was the song a lie too?" I ask, curious, looking between the two men.
Marshall glares at Proof till the latter holds up his hands in defense, a big smile on his face, and says, "Yo, dawg. You said you wanted to show it to her and get her okay. A'ight? I just made it happen. You're fuckin' welcome."
"My okay?" I ask, trying to understand. What is going on here?
With that, Proof pats Marshall on the back, "I think you can take it from here Doody. Peace!" and he walks out of the room leaving Marshall and I alone.
I want to scream out in confusion. I want to cry out of sheer humiliation. But instead a giggle starts bubbling out of me. And once that starts, it turns into full on laughter over the ridiculous of the situation. I have no clue what is happening. This couldn't have gone more wrong, and yet it's hilarious. I'm glad I'm able to find the humor in it all- thank god. Marshall shares in my amusement, laughing along once he sees how I can't contain my own.
It's the kind of laughter that's therapeutic. The kind that you have after a long period of time of not laughing and you feel so much better once you're done. I feel relieved. And much more relaxed than before I stepped in here. I didn't realize how much I needed that.
"You must think I'm an idiot for coming here." I say, once we both settle. I sit down in the chair Proof once occupied, looking to Marshall as he also takes a seat in the empty chair next to me, "But I swear I'm not stalking you. Proof convinced me to come."
"Nah, not an idiot... Maybe a lil' stalkerish..." He teases. I swat at his arm playfully, making him smile, "You're my favorite stalker though."
"Even more than the high school girls with all your posters on their wall?" I joke.
"A thousand times more." Marshall says, "So what'd Proof say to get you out here?"
"That you needed my 'musical opinion'." I roll my eyes, "I should have known it was a lie."
"Pshh. What are you talkin' 'bout? I always appreciate your opinion." He tells me, making me smile. "In fact...You wanna hear what I been working on for the new album? You can tell me what you think."
I nod my head eagerly and Marshall plays around on the soundboard, hitting a few buttons before music starts to play. I'm thrilled. Not many people can say they've had a private listening to the new Eminem album before it's release with Eminem himself.
Track after track, Marshall has me laughing at the upsurdity or in awe over his lyrical wordplay. My head continuously bobbing to each beat, enjoying them all.
He references so much in this one album. His mother suing him for ten million. His beef with ICP. Timothy White's editorial. The deadly Columbine shooting earlier this year....Nothing went untouched.
As always I'm blown away by his unquestionable talent, his own unique style. He thinks differently than the average person, and it's a gift. Without that way of thinking he wouldn't be able to write such lyrics or rap so fluidly. He wouldn't be Eminem.
In the new album, he's even more funny and even more angry, his lyrics even more complex and detailed. He still mentions drugs, his childhood and includes pop culture references by insulting all the celebrities- I personally liked the Christina one- and his usual outrageous opinions. Marshall knows that being hated is essential to his appeal, so he's laying it on thick.
In addition, he reflects on his newfound stardom and his struggle with it. Something I relate to the most. He also touches on the controversy with his previous album and how he's being- wrongfully- criticized for the violence in America because of his violent lyrics and speaks out on the hypocrisy.
He translates his emotions clearly on each record whether it be humor or anger, sometimes including both. It's provocative, funny, violent, and clever. I loved what I heard so far. And I tell him as much.
"...And the beat on 'Kill You'." I continue after probably five minutes of complimenting his album, "But I really liked your self titled track. And that LFO reference was perfect."
"Is there anything you don't like?" he asks, amused.
"Only that I'll have to wait months before I can listen to any of these songs again."
We laugh and talk more about the album as he explains different lyrics and meanings to me.
"I didn't think you could top your hook from 'My Name I's, but that uh," I attempt to rap, "''Cause I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady, all you other Slim Shadys are just imitating.' That part was hot."
Marshall laughs, "W-wait, hold up. Do that again."
"What?"
"Rap again." Marshall then takes on a really girly voice to mimic me, "I'm Slim Shady, yes I'm the real Shady!" and breaks out into laughter again.
"Stop!" I giggle, pushing his shoulder.
"Get in the booth. I'mma record you and put you on the track instead of me." I shake my head at his teasing- he's snickering now and again, "Come on! Everybody's got a lil Shady in them, even you. No one would even hear the difference. You can do it."
"Don't be a jerk." I say, unable to stop smiling. He's so goofy. "I was complimenting you!"
"You know I'm just playin'." He smiles at me, his voice soft as he holds my eyes with his gaze and I smile back.
I do. I've always like this playfulness I share with Marshall. We can tease each other one moment and the next talk about serious issues. And I never feel like Marshall is actually making fun of me or thinks I'm stupid. It's something I love about him...as a friend of course.
I break eye contact, feeling like we need to steer this subject in a different direction.
"So..." I clear my throat and I count all the songs I heard him play up in my head, "you have like half an album finished?"
"Uh a bit more," I look over at him, an odd expression on his face all of a sudden as he rubs the back of his neck.
"You holding out on me Shady?" I tease.
"I'd never hold out on you." Marshall smirks, "I just don't have 'em with me, you know. Dre has a couple tracks stored away and there's a few skits you'd probably get a kick outta, but I don't have 'em either."
I understand. I often don't have all my recordings in one place either.
"But I do have one more to show you," He mentions, "It's uhm...actually the one Proof was talkin' 'bout."
"The one you need my okay for?" I ask.
"Yeah." he says and then he's talking quickly, "Look, I heard the song first and then I got this whole concept for it, you know what I'm sayin? And all these lyrics just came to me. I mean they're fucked up, yeah, but it's more than that, you know? It's a whole story. 'Sides, I didn't think you'd mind. But if you do I guess I can-"
"Marshall, slow down." I interrupt his rambling, "What are you talking about?"
He sighs, rubbing his chin, "Just listen, okay?"
With that, he hits a button and a song starts to play.
"...My tea's gone cold cold I'm wondering why, I got out of bed at all...."
I almost laugh, thinking this is some joke. I look to Marshall, but he still has his eyes on the sound board- face serious. But how could he be? He's just playin me my own music. This song, 'Thank You', I wrote last year. A ballad for some romantic movie that came out not too long ago. It was simple, only taking me minutes to write, but ended up being pretty popular. Not my most known song, but well liked. I don't know why he put this on. What is he doing?
But then I pick up on the sound of rain in the background mixed in with the beat. And then thunder followed by a new beat laid on top of the old one.
He's remixed it.
It sounds great together, I actually really like it. It's ominous and adds well to the song. I'm suddenly jealous I didn't think to do it myself.
"...Put your picture on my wall. It reminds me, that it's not so bad. It's not so bad."
The chorus repeated twice before Marshall starts rapping, surprising me again. I've never had a song sampled before.
I quickly realize that even though it is Marshall's voice, he is portraying someone else in this verse as he raps, 'Dear Slim, I wrote you but still ain't callin'.' The sounds of a pencil scribbling in the background creates a vivid picture of this character writing a letter.
The song unfolds into a story of a crazed fan, obsessed with Eminem and getting increasingly unhinged and angry. He looks up to him, knows everything about him, takes everything he says as truth and considers himself Eminem's 'biggest fan'. By the end of the third verse I listen as this 'Stan' kills himself and his pregnant girlfriend by driving off a bridge when he doesn't hear back from all his numerous attempts to write Eminem.
The sound of screaming still echoing in my head, I hear my voice singing again before the final verse starts. In it, Marshall replies to Stan's letters, letting him know not to take him so literally and attempting to help him before finally realizing he's killed himself.
How devastating. Haunting. Powerful. Brilliant.
Marshall is an incredible story teller. His lyrics so vivid and the emotion is his voice so raw as he displays the often complex relationship between an artist and their obsessive fan that I could picture it all- even feel the emotions- so clearly. I'm yet again in awe of him.
It takes me a moment to realize it ended and I'm just sitting in silence, when I hear: "Katie?"
"Can you play it again?" is all I manage to say, stunned. I don't even look up, my eyes straight ahead looking at nothing. My minds too busy going over the lyrics I just heard to focus on my actual surroundings.
Marshall wordlessly restarts the song and I listen to it through once more. When it ends again, I sit back in my chair in silence.
"You gotta tell me whatcha thinkin'." Marshall pleads after a while.
I chuckle in disbelief, turning to look at him , "I don't even have words! That was beyond anything I've ever heard before."
"That a good thing?" he checks.
"That's a really good thing." I smile, "What made you write that?"
He shrugs, "One too many pieces of fan mail. The idea just grew from there, you know what I'm sayin'? I wanted to send a message to my fans, let them know everything I say is not to be taken so fuckin' literally, you know?" He smirks, "Only most things."
I laugh. He might say all these crazy things but I know him. I know he wouldn't actually do them.
"Nah, but it was you who really inspired it." he continues, "When I heard 'put your picture on my wall,' you know, all I could think was it sounded like an obsessed fan. Once I heard that, I knew exactly what I was gonna write."
I know what he means about the fan thing. I've received more than my share of mail from deranged fans, been stalked by even more. We are here as musicians, entertainers. But some fans see us as so much more. To the point that it can be overwhelming that these people look up to us so much, even scary. I can relate to this song.
"I never thought of it till now, but yeah. It makes sense. It goes perfectly with your lyrics."
"So do I have your permission then?"
"You can have it." I agree instantly, "Send me the paperwork, I'll sign whatever to make it official"
"A'ight, this is dope." Marshall smiles, "Katherine Arden, a featured artist on the Marshall Mathers LP."
I smile back, actually very excited about that. I'm glad to be able to work with him...even if I'm not actually working with him. He's just using my pre-recorded vocals and has already mixed them into his song. My 'work' is done. But this just gets me so excited, hearing our voices on one track. It sounded amazing together and I want to hear more. The wheels in my head are already turning, coming up with new tracks that we could actually collaborate on.
And like he's reading my mind, Marshall adds, "First of many collabs."
"Definitely." I promise.
<><><><><><><>
A/N
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Vote & Comment to show love! Tell me what you think! Always appreciated! I'm working hard on the next one so hopefully it'll be very soon!
And yes, I switched Dido for Katie. Dido still exists in this universe, so don't worry if you're a big fan. lol. It's gonna open up the whole story now...
What is your favorite song from MMLP? I think this is an almost impossible question, I have a ton lol. It's an amazing album. I listen to it on repeat all the time lol. But besides the obvious popular choices, I really love Marshall Mathers and Drug Ballad.