Kid Rock is a mess of contradictions. (Jennifer S. Altman / For…)
On election night,, Kid Rock did something unusual, even for him. The Southern rock-rapper, a famed party monster whose annual Chillin' the Most cruise concert is an Olympian feat of seaborne drinking, conked out early.
Kid Rock, born Robert Ritchie, had performed at rallies for Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney, and his anthem for individual liberty, "Born Free," became the campaign's theme song. Perhaps the 41-year-old hoped to sleep through any bad news on the most nerve-wracking night in American politics. Or maybe this onetime Jim Beam spokesman had turned over another new leaf and was following the straight-laced example of his candidate.
"They say that [Romney] doesn't have the talk, that he can't come in and slap you a pound and hug with Jay-Z. He's not that cool guy, but he's like a father figure for me," Rock said. "He seemed like a genuinely decent [guy]. That freaked people out — 'Surely, nobody can be that decent. You don't get to 65 without some ... in your past.' But that guy has nothing."
PHOTOS: Iconic rock guitars and their owners
Kid Rock is a mess of contradictions — probably America's only old-school hip-hop head from Detroit to have started a fistfight at a Waffle House and punched drummer Tommy Lee at the MTV Video Music Awards. He's been championed by legendary music producer Rick Rubin, and he's an ex-husband of Pamela Anderson.
And he's a friend and video collaborator of Hollywood liberal stalwart Sean Penn, while also a campaign avatar for a teetotalling Mormon financier who recruited Rock despite lyrics about "The midnight glancers and the topless dancers…The G's with the forties and the chicks with beepers. "
For all the tidal shifts in American pop music of late — the ascent of dance beats, the dominance of young female artists, the demise of mainstream rock on the Billboard charts — perhaps no other artist better embodies the cognitive dissonance of a changing American identity today. On his new album, "Rebel Soul," he is vice and virtue, city and country, a Dixie flag-waving resident of his own Redneck Paradise, and a Detroiter with a half-black son and an encyclopedic knowledge of rap.
"To me, 'redneck' means hard-working people who enjoy the simple things in life," he said. "That's what that term means to me, and I think to a whole lot of people,"
PHOTOS: Celebrity portraits by The Times
Though he first made his national name in the '90s when white men with experimental facial hair paired heavy-metal guitars with adenoidal rhyming, Kid Rock arrived at his sound without guile or prejudice. He grew up in a Detroit suburb, Romeo, Mich., influenced by the African American hip-hop scenes of the city's 8 Mile neighborhood (he even once recorded a single at a studio owned by Detroit techno pioneer Juan Atkins) with the rabble-rousing country and rock beloved in the parts of the Midwest that more resemble Alabama than the Motor City.
Those who suspected a novelty act, however, were rebutted by his songwriting skills and ability to make incompatible sounds make sense. "Picture," his 2001 duet with Sheryl Crow, was a straight-faced tear-in-your-beer weeper that Willie Nelson would have been proud to have penned. He recorded "Born Free," his last album, with producer-guru Rubin, who winnowed his love of Bob Seger and Bruce Springsteen into a grown-man country-rock album with sea legs to sustain an arena career into middle age.
Until "Rebel Soul," he was also one of the last chart-topping contemporary performers refusing to release music on iTunes, with a commitment to full-album listening.
"It was so interesting to hear a guy with a rap background come in with these classic rock tunes. That kind of bravado isn't really explored in singer-songwriter material today," said Blake Mills, the young guitarist and singer-songwriter who has collaborated with Fiona Apple and Lucinda Williams and who played on the two most recent Kid Rock albums.
PHOTOS: Celebrity presidential endorsements 2012
"I like that he's so unapologetic. We've had late-night conversations about everything from politics to driving a Prius and songwriting, and it's nice to know he's as up front in person as he is as a songwriter. I relate to the guy."
Rather than claim any one idea about American music, Rock revels in all of them in "Rebel Soul." It's a midcareer left turn from the austere and earnest "Born Free." "Rebel Soul" is half party-record, half pan-fried mission to reclaim Southern rock's place in Americana. There are decadent beer-poppers such as "Cucci Galore" and "Redneck Paradise"; "Happy New Year" hits a true and delicate spot between a classic-country drinking song and a reflective booze hound's lament. Last year, he served as chorus-hookman for the Alabama rapper Yelawolf's single "Let's Roll."