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Sitting down with the American Bad Ass as he prepares to release his first-ever Christmas album.
Leading up to the release of his highly-anticipated Christmas album Rebel Without a Claus, Kid Rock sat down with us for a wide-ranging interview about his legendary music career, political aspirations, and yuletide traditions. Clad in his trademarked black leather jacket, Michelob-stained wife beater, and Confederate flag belt buckle, he generously treated us to lunch at Carrabba’s Italian Grill in his hometown of Romeo, Michigan, where he paid with a gift card given to him by Sarah Palin for his 52nd birthday.
Over a shared appetizer of fried calamari and a round of pomegranate martinis, the man born Robert James Ritchie entertained us with a culinary tale of his own. “I once tried to fry a giant chicken in a fuckin’ satellite dish,” he chuckled. “Normal-sized pans are for normal-sized lives, and that’s just not me. My agent heard about it and got me a gig hostin’ a fuckin’ cooking show where everything was beer-infused. You should have seen this shit. Fuckin’ beer soup, beer cake, beer-glazed ham. That ham was the fuckin’ best. It’s the true rockstar diet.”
We made some small talk about his Thanksgiving holiday, which he spent quietly on his ranch with his pet ostrich, Rocky. “He’s the only one who can eat more fuckin’ cranberry sauce than me,” he added.
As we munched the last of the calamari, Mr. Rock leaned back, sipping his martini with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Thanksgiving’s great and all, but Christmas, man, that’s when the real fuckin’ fun starts. Most people don’t even know that ‘Bawitdaba’ was originally about the three wise men, but I had to add in all that shit about the hookers to get on fuckin’ Carson Daly’s good side. Back in those days, if Carson didn’t like you, you were fucked, man. Anyway, I’m stoked I finally get to put my fuckin’ spin on the classics. It’s about fuckin’ time someone ripped a guitar solo on ‘Ave Maria’ and gave ‘Silent Night’ a big outlaw country kick in the ass, am I right?”
Our vodka-induced nausea intensified when Kid ordered another round and delved into his thoughts on politics. “All that Senate run stuff? Pure hype. But I’ll tell ya what, it didn’t seem so crazy to Hunter Biden when we were hangin’ out together in a bathroom stall at the Circus Circus. We used to fuckin’ stand for something in this country, man. Now Puerto Rico’s a fuckin’ state, illegal immigrants get Medicare, every Olympian is transgender, and CNN is bought and paid for by Obama’s Kenyan cousins. I tell people I’m making a fuckin’ Christmas album and they want me to call it a ‘holiday collection’ instead. What a fuckin’ joke. Look at my goatee. Do I look like someone who jokes around?”
Thankfully, our entreés arrived before we had time to debate whether or not his question was rhetorical. Kid, the unabashed seafood lover, dug into his Fettuccine Pescatore and explained, “Ever since we shot the music video for ‘All Summer Long’ out on those fuckin' speedboats, I’ve been obsessed with the ocean. It’s the only thing on this whole fuckin’ planet bigger and rougher than a night in the master bedroom on the ranch, if ya catch my fuckin’ drift.” Rock's eyes lit up as he spoke about his love for pirate lore. "I threw the release party for American Bad Ass on a ship. The fuckin’ Undertaker showed up dressed as Blackbeard and tombstoned Sheryl Crow through the buffet table. It was fuckin’ sick, man. I swam home with three chicks that night."
He paused to sign a napkin for a fan, on which he doodled a cartoon penis and a phone number. After conspicuously sliding it into his admirer’s tube top, he slapped her on the rear end as she exited the restaurant and turned back to us.
“Let’s not forget the real reason for the holiday season,” he added. “Jesus died for our motherfuckin’ sins. That’s legit. And he gets no fuckin’ respect for it anymore. Think about that. They hung him up on a cross for three fuckin’ days before Santa came along in that sleigh and let him down. But Mariah Carey doesn’t sing about any of that shit. My record’s cuttin’ to the heart of it, man. I’m singin’ about the stuff that really matters when you think about Christmas. Like prayin’ and snowmobilin’ and watchin’ the Pistons stand for the Anthem like proud motherfuckin’ Americans.”
As our lunch hour with the Detroit Cowboy came to an end, we pressed him for details on his upcoming tour. “It’s gonna be fuckin’ epic. I hired the Trans-Siberian Orchestra to be my backing band and I only gave them two rules. Rule number one: change your fuckin’ name to the Man’s Siberian Orchestra. I don’t want any groomers comin’ to these fuckin’ shows. Rule number two: crank the fuckin’ volume to eleven. We start down in Biloxi on the 17th and tear through every Margaritaville in this beautiful country. We wrap up in Vegas for New Year’s Eve and by then every fake seaplane in every fuckin’ restaurant will be rocked off of its god damn hinges. I can promise you motherfuckers that much.”
After wishing us a Merry Christmas (and making us swear we wouldn’t edit his quote to say Happy Holidays), he left a modest 7% tip, chugged the rest of his fourth martini, and flipped the table completely upside down. He kissed our dumbfounded waitress on the mouth, kicked the manager in the scrotum, and rode off into the distance on a red, white, and blue Harley Davidson — middle fingers stoutly in the air and Rocky the ostrich sitting patiently in the sidecar.
Rebel Without a Claus will be available nowhere beginning Friday, December 8th courtesy of Oddball Records.