By Steve Weinstein
By Bryan Bierman
By Lindsey Rhoades
By Chaz Kangas
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Jena Ardell
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Katherine Turman
See, like all armies fighting losing campaigns, 50's G Unit is recruiting from decimated communities in need of a boostonce proud '90s thugs. But new draftees Mobb Deep and M.O.P. don't fight tactically; they scrap. And if they take an L, well, it's not the first one. Havoc and Prodigy at least looked like team players in their minor-league glittery bulletproof vests, but when 50 stared down a crowd that shouted "G-U-Not" a little too easily, he was all alone. "I expect every motherfucker to put their hands up," he said, like an exasperated phys-ed teacher. "You betta fuck with me. I got hits for days." Lloyd Banks and Young Buckbusy pouring water over each other. Tony Yayothrowing shirts to the crowd like the hype man he still should be.
And yet, it was headliner Eminem's set that seemed bloated. His defensive lineD-12, Obie Trice, Stat Quocrumbled. And his puerile jabs at other celebsMariah, Jacko, Bobby & Whitneyno longer sting the way they did when they made headlines. Nowadays, Eminem is the bullyhe's got the upper-arm strength, tooand boy is he good at it. So good, in fact, that it's easy to overlook how weird and eccentric he is, and how very foreign to hip-hop and its tribulations he's become.
Last year's Encore was often dismal, but rarely dull, and onstage he enlivened even erratic mongo like "Rain Man" and "Ass Like That." But give Slim Shady a stage and he'll take a vein. "Lose Yourself" and "Mosh" were riveting, and "Like Toy Soldiers" was his "Kumbaya." The show was being filmed for Showtime, and this was the moment that will air on all the tribute specials, if hip-hop ever does catch up to him.