Going against the grain, the singer's press release mentions that, in addition to performing his timeless classics, he'll be previewing songs from a "forthcoming, as yet untitled new release," as opposed to playing one of his old records in its entirety. I can commend him for that. Also, The Flaming Lips are coming to The Ryman on May 18 ... did we mention that this week? I think they're gonna be playing The Soft Bulletin in its entirety, as opposed to homaging Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, which you can go and see The Long Players do tomorrow night over at Mercy Lounge. As of this morning, Flaming Lips tix are available here, and tickets for Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band's ramblin', gamblin' rock show go on sale next Saturday, Feb. 26, at 10 a.m., on Ticket Master. Speaking of Bob Seger, a rock show on the more immediate horizon is tonight's Kid Rock appearance, in which the (fake) poor man's Seger will treat crowds to his bawita-base-level, patriotic what-have-you. Now check out my bawita-blurb previewing Rock's shindig ripped from the pages of this week's Scene:
The fact that — among Y2K-era rockers the likes of Fred Durst and Scott Stapp — Kid Rock is the cock-rockin' pop-culture cockroach to persist as a viable musical entity all the way into 2011 is proof positive that the state of education in these United States is in dire straits. And also proof that some folks will cheer on anything — even the slaughter of kittens and puppy dogs — so long as it’s set to the licks of “Sweet Home Alabama.” Rock — who, at 40, can probably stand to drop the “Kid” part of his moniker — has gone from his bewildering beginnings as a shabby white rapper, shackled by Vanilla Ice’s frozen shadow, to his Bawita-breakthrough as a wife-beater-clad, faux-white-trash steward of rock’s (and rap’s, for that matter) hands-down worst-ever sub-genre (rap-rock), only to arrive as the contemporary clodhopper's Poet Laureate with his musical and aesthetic impression of how Bob Seger would sound, write and perform if he were to have the frontal lobe of his brain removed — and then started taking cues from Kenny Chesney. While it’s easy to marginalize Rock for the mounting banality of his catalogue, his asinine embrace of mediocrity and his boundless love affair with the lowest common denominator, you can’t deny he’s a master in league with Anheuser-Busch when it comes to the art of American branding — and like that company’s product, his output, too, kills brain cells. In other words, don't count on encountering too many dickish rock snobs at tonight's Rock show. Party on, Waynes!
For an idea of the kinds of terrifying onstage trespasses you can expect to see and hear at The 'Stone tonight, check out Rock's forehead-slap-mandating cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the U.S.A." (posted below). While it's not nearly as mind-blowing as Nickelback's cover of Springsteen's "Ghost of Tom Joad" (which they egregiously attribute to Rage Against the Machine, and which I dare you to even try and make it through), it's the most boneheaded misappropriation of "Born" since the '84 Reagan/Bush Campaign. See for yourself: