Off the Charts: Kid Rock

In defense of the Kid

By Newt Briggs

Kid Rock is a loser, but a fantastic one all the same. He hangs out in his suburban compound with midgets, ex-felons and rundown sex symbols who have been passed around Hollywood enough to catch a bad case of hepatitis C. He sings songs which--if they aren't entirely about himself--are invariably about porn, jacked-up pickups, having sex with black women and chasing bottles of Boone's Farm with shots of Jim Beam. Oh, and by the way, did we mention that he's sold more than 20 million albums in the United States alone?

Certain thoughtful rock critics struggle with this fact--frequently chalking it up to middle America's collective yokeldom--but the real explanation is simple: Kid Rock is also a genius. He's a kid who grew up on an apple orchard 40 miles outside Detroit proper and, with nothing but a beat-up Mercury Grand Marquis and a pair of turntables, styled himself into the prince of the national trailer park. He's the classic Horatio Alger story gone redneck. Sure, he shoots guns, takes pride in his lawn and wears an American flag as a poncho on national television, but he also harkens back to everything that is and was and will ever be great about rock 'n' roll.

Kid Rock is a poet. Not only that, Kid Rock is heir to an American poetic tradition that goes all the way back to Walt Whitman--perhaps even further. But whereas Whitman waxed on the cosmic significance of young men frolicking in the surf, Kid Rock extols the virtues of mud flaps, grits and 30 packs of Stroh's--all in a language befitting the self-proclaimed "redneck originator." For example, Kid Rock doesn't drink beers; he "jams" them. He doesn't have tight rhymes; he's got "propane flows." And when a "fly slimmy"--that is, a lovely young lady--has a particularly noteworthy nether region, she's got some "Cadillac pussy."

Kid Rock sports a mullet and is not ashamed. But seriously, why should he be ashamed? In a 2003 poll conducted by Wella, a multinational beauty conglomerate, Kid Rock beat out Rob Lowe for the title of "male celebrity with the best hair to run your hands through." Business in the front, party in the back: Kid Rock's coiffure perfectly complements the rest of his ensemble, which is essentially trailer trash as interpreted by Urban Outfitters--wife beaters, multicolored fedoras, gold chains and cowboy boots.

Kid Rock will not be typecast, pigeonholed or otherwise limited in his ceaseless quest for the rock. Follow the artistic evolution: On Devil Without a Cause, Kid Rock predicted he would go platinum while he rap-rocked about being some kind of stoned cowboy pimp thug rock star. Then he actually went platinum--seven times!--and on The History of Rock, he made sure everybody knew it (still via the rap-rock). Then, with 2001's Cocky, he unveiled an acoustic duet with Sheryl Crow that made people cry. His most recent album is a wanging, danging, guitar-clanging hullabaloo that blends bluegrass, Delta blues, hip hop and old-time, hellfire, upright piano rock. It is fittingly titled Kid Rock.

Kid Rock's real name is Robert James Ritchie, but people call him Kid Rock. It's nearly impossible to underestimate the difficulty of establishing your own nickname--much less a nickname as absurd as "Kid Rock." The only other person I've ever known to pull off such a feat was a gawky white kid named John, who succeeded--after much derisive laughter--in renaming himself "Ice" during our freshman year in high school. While going from John to Ice was an accomplishment, going from Bob Ritchie to Kid Rock was a legitimate coup.

Kid Rock is a legend after his time. Kid Rock makes no secret of his debt to Ted Nugent and Bob Seger--both fellow Michiganders--but his real musical roots dig down even deeper than the Motor City Madman and the Silver Bullet Band. Case in point: Compare Kid Rock's "Bawitdaba"--"Bawitdaba-da-bang-da-dang-diggy-diggy"--with Little Richard's "Tutti Frutti"--"Awopbopaloobop, alopbamboom." Call it gibberish, call it genius; whatever it is, it's pure, unadulterated pop goodness. In its fledgling days, rock 'n' roll wasn't intellectual. In fact, it was so anti-intellectual that songs like "Tutti Frutti," "Bony Moronie" and "Yakety Yak" dominated the charts for more than a decade. Given that context, Kid Rock's "Bawitdaba" looks not only relevant, it looks classic.