by John Tarpley
Update: Verizon says the show is still a go for tonight. If we hear word otherwise, we'll post it immediately. Because that's what we do. And good on Kid Rock for braving the elements. That's pretty cool. But do any of you guys who read this blog care about the show tonight? Reason's telling me otherwise. Does anyone want to get together a couple dozen folks for a snowball war? I'm in Stifft Station.
What the hell is Kid Rock going to be this month? Is he going to be Kid Rock, the greasy-haired goon emcee with a blunt of ditch weed in his hat? Is he going to be Kid Rock, the strip mall pimp? "Rock n' roll Jesus?" The wifebeater-clad hick-hopper groaning into a mic, stomping around in front of the stars and bars? Lately he's tried for what looks like "introspective white trash crooner," but for Wednesday's show at Verizon, he'll probably be an unholy union of all the equally gross above.
Now, it's not that I want everyone with a guitar to be, say, Leonard Cohen: It's just that when a singer has the capacity to release one of the best, most sublime country duets in recent memory with "Picture" then returns to being the musical equivalent of KFC's Double Down sandwich with D-list strip club anthem "So Hott" and that godforsaken "Werewolves of London"/"Sweet Home Alabama" mashup "All Summer Long," it gets exasperating.
Simply put, there are moments that suggest Kid Rock could be the white trash answer to Beck. And I, for one, would love to hear a white trash Beck. Instead, he's content to be another cog in the fast-food music machine, making Bret Michaels look like Jacques Brel.