Who is that substitute pimp charging out of the Motor City with an army of what appears to be moonshine-slammin’ Metallica fans? It’s Kid Rock and the Twisted Brown Trucker Band.
Kid Rock’s latest offering, Cocky, is dedicated to Joe C., and everyone who has walked that lonely road of faith, love, peace and war. The album is, one could say, a rather unfortunate bit of recording to have offered as a eulogy. The disk itself is adorned with two middle fingers -that’s your first warning that this album will offend you.
It’s not offensive for the language or content (like rhyming “fuck a bitch” with “fuck a bitch,” or rapping about having his fingers inside the same flight attendant as Bill Clinton). It is offensive by way of being so unpleasant to listen to that, ultimately, I had to use headphones to keep folks from unceremoniously unplugging the stereo and flashing me looks of disgust.
About half the tracks are that Southern-rock hip hop sound that no other artist flaunts; the other half are terrible country songs with heavy metal reprises of the chorus at the end. My belief that Kid Rock had only one rhyme scheme was confirmed again and again on this album as he awkwardly goes through the motions of a prolific recording artist, rhyming “ass,” “gas” and “grass” with all the discreet subtlety of a 300-pound trucker’s pit-stained T-shirt.
I was probably entertained for a solid two out of 64 minutes of Cocky. If that doesn’t motivate you enough to buy this shit, we are having a special: If you get a hold of me in the next 20 minutes, I’ll sell you my personal copy for only $5.