With hits ‘My Name Is’ and ‘The Real Slim Shady’, he ruled the airwaves, but it wasn’t long before some detractors acknowledged his depth, helped in part by singles like the mournful ‘Stan’, written from the perspective of an obsessed fan. And, to be certain, a great deal of the controversy Eminem courted - and during the turn of the millennium, there was no greater pop cultural bogeyman than Marshall Mathers - came through in how his violent fantasias, often directed at his mother or his wife, intertwined with flights of absurdity that appealed to listeners too young to absorb the psychodramas Eminem explored on his hit albums, The Slim Shady LP and The Marshall Mathers LP. On sheer verbal skills, Eminem was one of the greatest MCs of his generation - rapid, fluid, dexterous, and unpredictable, as capable of pulling off long-form narrative as he was delivering a withering aside - and thanks to his mentor Dr Dre, he had music to match: thick, muscular loops that evoked the terror and paranoia Em’s music conjured. Certainly, Eminem was the first white rapper since the Beastie Boys to garner both sales and critical respect, but his impact exceeded this confining distinction. To call Eminem Hip Hop’s Elvis is correct to a degree, but it’s largely inaccurate.