Kid Rock at the Molson Amphitheatre, September 11. Tickets: $55. Attendance: 8,000. Rating: NNN
Standing in line at the makeshift, overpriced bar at the Molson Amphitheatre Saturday night, a man bumps into a woman and spills beer on her (not his fault). They won't give you lids for your plastic cups, claiming it's to protect the birds. Why can't they just clean them the fuck up and protect the birds that way?
"That's OK," she tells him. "We're all here for Kid Rock , so we're all good people."
This strikes me as faulty logic, but I don't point it out, because they're both larger and visibly drunker than I am.
In fact, that's pretty much the crowd in a nutshell, and they're the ones who scare me just a little: drunk, excited and mainly white, with just enough don't-fuck-with-me rock 'n' roll belligerence, a combination I can't help thinking could spell trouble.
Maybe it's just me. I tell myself to relax and stop being an idiot.
Kid Rock himself is in fine form, opening, of course, with Bawitdaba.
"Carfle snagsh frug!" some guy slurs into my ear as he squeezes into my seat, shoving me aside.
"Sure!" I shout back, pasting a smile on my face. I mean, what can you say to that?
Rock runs through what feels like a very long set of his good ol' country- metal-rap as the crowd sings along. He also offers a few covers, including what is actually a pretty good rendition of Feel Like Makin' Love.
The stage set is half-assedly elaborate, which is kind of weird. The backdrop shifts from an American eagle to the Confederate flag to the American flag. Pyrotechnics burst in the background, followed by pops that seem to serve no purpose but to make you jumpy.
Four of the most bored- and listless-looking bikini babes I've ever seen wander onstage, lean against poles for a bit, then wander off again, only to repeat the process a few minutes later. The sign that reads "Cadillac Pussy," erected during the song of the same title, lights up to read only "Cadill Pussy." Then one of the cords holding it up snaps and it goes all cockeyed.
Rock, however remains upbeat and unstoppable, during one segment running around to play every instrument, including drums, turntables and keys, as far as I can figure just to prove he can - though I'm not sure the Smoke On The Water riff really proves much.
He takes off his hat and kneels during a tribute to his late partner, Joe C., and gets the crowd shouting Kid Rock's name during a quintessential moment of self-adulation.
No major fights break out before I leave.