Fuck Kid Rock.
In the mostly internet-free days since hurricane Ike used my house as a condom, I've been listening to a lot more radio. And in addition to the realization that the state of Florida is single-handedly keeping the classic rock industry alive, I've decided that Kid Rock is just about the worst human being on the planet.
I dared to hope he'd disappear after that unfortunate period in our nation's history several years ago, when legions of proto-mulletheads did the lame, early-21st century equivalent of the mosh to his soulless thud-core. That, for a number of reasons (a romance with Pam Anderson, the dunderheadedness of the American population) didn't happen. And now I learn that "All Summer Long," his newest cut from Rock N Roll Jesus that happens to sample Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London" and Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama," has become his biggest hit.
Sorry, did I say "sample?" I should have said "burgle." See, sampling is the act of using a portion of a break or beat to construct a new tune, recognizable yet unto itself as a musical entity. Kid Rock, on the other hand, appropriates entire stanzas around which to drape his bland, "Jack and Diane"-esque lyrics. "All Summer Long's" entire opening is a repeat of "Werewolves," after which it invokes "Alabama," leading to a wholesale theft of that song's most famous riff. That isn't sampling, a la the Beastie Boys or Dr. Dre, that's some Vanilla Ice shit.
A lot of what we have to put up with in life is out of our control. Got a tree in my house? Fine. Sprained my ankle Labor Day weekend? Whatever. Grandmother passed away? Death is inevitable. But by god, I don;t have to put up with listening to the Motor City Moron shit up my airwaves for another second.
Dude, since you’re in a negatory space, I thought I’d give you release by saying…I fucking LOVE that new Kid Rock song. Yeah, it’s awful. Yeah, it’s like a cotton candy covered caramel apple…but it’s fucking pretty sweet nonetheless. If you need a break ONCE a day from regular radio or CDs and want to just like….hear a jingle? Money. And a regular radio is what I have. And I listen without knowing there’s a tree in my house.
The “burgle” is the worst part…of the song I love. There’s probably not enough “sample” of either Lynard Skynard or the newly deceased Zevon to have Kid pay royalties…so, yeah. Thems good sampling.
Yet again, if I had the instant gratification of satellite radio until a GIANT tree fell on my house, forcing me out and into countless hours of regular radio, I’d hate that song too. For now, I just pretend like it’s not playing in my car.
A friend of mine sang on the same Kennedy Center Honors program that Kid Rock appeared on a few years ago, and he told me, “I didn’t know what to call him…Kid? Mr. Rock? So I decided just to call him ‘No Talent’.”
I heard that song a couple of times but I didn’t catch the Warren Zevon sample. It probably had a lot to do with the ice pick I was cramming into my ear drum at the time.
I appreciated this entry even more than most of your writing, because I’d just heard this Kid Rock travesty a couple of weeks ago and had been planning on blogging my own outraged response. However, you’ve neatly summed up the infuriated exasperation I felt a minute or so after I came out into the kitchen where my eldest stepdaughter was loading the dishwasher while listening to the crap alt-rock station she prefers on my old stereo, and thought, for several seconds, she was listening to (and obviously enjoying) “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon. Here’s how that went:
ME: I can’t believe this station is playing this song.
HER: Why not? It’s great! This station plays great music!
ME: Well, I know it’s great, but this song is from the mid 70s… I didn’t think you enjoyed stuff like that…
HER: Um… what? No, this is, like, a new song…
ME: No way, this is “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon.
HER: No, it’s Kid Rock. It’s a new song. It’s really cool.
ME: Kid fucking ROCK did a remake
Uh… I’m pretty sure my original comment was longer.
Or I thought it was.
Well… never mind, then.
And in addition to the realization that the state of Florida is single-handedly keeping the classic rock industry alive…
Gracias, Pete. Though moving back to Florida is quite impossible because of prohibitively expensive insurance rates, I’m still immensely proud of my home state and this is one of the reasons.