Kid Rock with Buckcherry and Hellbound Glory

Who would have thought, back in 1999, when Devil Without a Cause and “Bawitdaba” and “Cowboy” were playing everywhere, that Kid Rock would still be around in 2008? Jail, death, and/or footnote seemed to be his most likely future career options back then, once the hype faded and he followed Vanilla Ice into the special section of celebrity hell reserved for cracker rappers. Back then, Rock, aka Robert Ritchie, was just a redneck Eminem knockoff, a Detroit hick ramped up on hip-hop with a foul mouth, stringy hair, and a predilection for porn.

He’s still a Detroit hick with a jones for black music, though he seems more interested in classic rock, gospel, and country than hip-hop these days. And he’s still a shining example of bad taste and bad behavior. Like the song says, he’s a complicated man.

He’s also about as big a rock star as America’s got right now. (Seriously, who saw that coming?) Looking back over his career, Kid Rock may be more important than anybody’s ever going to give him credit for—there’s a political edge to his fusion of working-class pop and his self-consciously populist appeal, and, like Bon Scott, he’s pretty smart about being dumb. But really, who cares? Kid Rock’s not nearly as interesting as a cultural phenomenon as he is as a straight-up American bad ass.

Illustration by 14, courtesy of circushour.com.