Detroit’s own Kid Rock is known worldwide for his bombastic stage presence and hit anthems. But long before the fame, pyro, and sold-out stadiums, there was a young Bob Ritchie hustling in the Detroit music scene. This is the story of Kid Rock’s formative years in Detroit, a journey of reinvention, relentless drive, and the forging of a unique rock icon.
Long before Kid Rock was selling out ten-show runs at DTE Energy Music Theatre, he was a local fixture in Detroit, carving his own path through a burgeoning music landscape. While the world knows the Kid Rock of “Bawitdaba” and “Cowboy,” his Detroit story is a decade-long grind of self-discovery and sonic evolution. This was a period where a young Bob Ritchie, barely out of his teens, transformed himself from a hip-hop hopeful into the rock-rap showman who would conquer the world.
His latest album marks a new chapter, but to truly understand Kid Rock, one must rewind to the early 90s. Fresh off a disheartening experience with his first record label, a young and determined Kid Rock returned to Detroit. This wasn’t about chasing riches; it was about a raw hunger for recognition, a burning ambition to make it big on his own terms. From 1990 to 1998, Detroit was the crucible where young Bob Ritchie was molded into the Kid Rock the world now recognizes.
In his teens, Romeo-born Ritchie was already immersed in music, DJing and rapping at east side parties. This passion led to a deal with New York hip-hop label Jive Records at just 17. His 1990 debut, “Grits Sandwiches for Breakfast,” was a product of these early years, a Beastie Boys-esque record filled with boastful, often raunchy, rap. Jive even placed the young Kid Rock on a national tour, “Straight from the Underground,” offering a glimpse of a broader audience.
However, the Jive relationship was short-lived. Soon, the young rapper found himself back in Detroit, label-less but not defeated. This setback became a pivotal moment, the catalyst for a dramatic evolution. Kid Rock’s hair grew longer, his music grew louder, and his live shows began to take on a whole new dimension.
According to Mike E. Clark, who produced Kid Rock’s early demos in 1989, “I cut his demos as a kid before he got signed in 1989. I was working with mostly young black teenagers then. I didn’t know he was white — we caught each other off-guard when he came in. I thought, ‘Yeah, sure. A white guy is going to rap.’ But he shut me up. He had his turntable, had his beats, his stuff already written. He had his shit together and blew me away.” Clark was immediately impressed by the young artist’s confidence and preparedness, noting, “He was very confident, had the high-top fade, very sharp. You could tell right away he wasn’t bullshitting.”
Joe Nieporte, who managed the Ritz in Roseville, recalled booking a young Kid Rock. “He came in pretty cocky: ‘I’m going to fill this place.’ Every band I talk to says that. But he had a lot of wits about him. Just a strong, cool personality.” Despite Nieporte’s initial skepticism, Kid Rock delivered, drawing an impressive crowd of 1,200 people. Nieporte was struck by his early promotional efforts: “He had a great street team, a lot of little kids helping him back then.”
Jerry “Vile” Peterson, publisher of Orbit magazine, also remembers this dedicated fanbase. “He had this giant Mt. Clemens posse. The high school friends. You’d meet so many of them at once.” Even in these early rap days, Nieporte sensed a need for evolution. “Bob was just straight-up rap then…real edgy, hard-core. I wasn’t a big rap fan, but I liked his stuff. But I remember telling him, ‘Dude, if you’re going to make it to the next level, you’ve got to clean it up.'”
Mike Himes, owner of Record Time shop, recounts a memorable in-store performance for “Grits Sandwiches.” It was at this event that a young, persistent Eminem, then unknown, tried to challenge Kid Rock to a battle. “Toward the end, this blond-haired skinny kid kept yelling out — ‘I’ll battle you! I’ll battle you!’ Just persistently getting in Kid Rock’s face… That was Eminem. He gave him a couple of his tapes: ‘Check me out.’ At least Kid Rock was cordial about it.” This anecdote highlights the intertwined paths of young artists navigating the Detroit scene.
The landscape shifted when Vanilla Ice’s popularity waned. Clark explains, “(In 1990) Vanilla Ice came out and stunk things up. So Jive decided they didn’t want a white rapper anymore. They couldn’t see the future, and they dropped Kid Rock, which was devastating to him.” However, this setback propelled Kid Rock to forge his own unique sound. He signed with independent label Continuum and, as Clark recalls, “said, ‘(Screw) it, Clark. Let’s do this record.’ We worked on ‘Polyfuze Method’ at the (Ferndale studio) Tempermill in ’92.”
This marked a turning point. Clark elaborates, “With Jive, he tried to be the rap guy, keeping it all hip-hop. But… he got disillusioned by being dropped. So he was like, ‘(Screw) it, I’m going to do my own thing.'” Music attorney Tommy Valentino emphasizes this new independent spirit: “His attitude now was, ‘I’m not going to count on any record company to make me a star.'”
The Vanilla Ice comparisons were a constant irritant for the young artist. Peterson notes, “The whole Vanilla Ice comparison, he dreaded so much. It was a source of shame in that whole thing. In his first interview (with Orbit in 1990), he was saying he’s not a Vanilla Ice, that he was trying to be the real deal. And he always told me it was his parents’ music that influenced him. Definitely Seger, which was like old-people music at that time.” This desire to differentiate himself and embrace his diverse musical influences was crucial to Kid Rock’s developing identity.
“The Polyfuze Method,” released in 1993, was a sonic melting pot. Clark describes the experimental approach: “We were adding rock guitars, sampling Pink Floyd, any crazy stuff. At one point we had a flute player come in. We just didn’t care.” This anything-goes attitude defined the album’s sound. “He liked all kinds of music,” Clark continues. “When he goes to make music, he does what he thinks sounds good. If that was mixing a flute or heavy metal guitar on top of 808 drums — as long as it sounded good, that’s what he did.”
Nieporte recognized this evolution immediately. “‘Polyfuze Method’ had a great rap presence, but also brought a strong rock feel. When I heard it, I thought, wow, this guy is on to something. And he toned it down (lyrically). Not a lot. But he did tone it down.” Himes called it “his crossroads record: the hip-hop influence, but starting to lean toward rock.” Friend David Lee observed, “The fact that he’s now associated with so many genres of music isn’t a surprise. Even though we looked at him as a hip-hop guy after the Jive thing, you could start to see those other elements — the rock ‘n’ roll, the country.”
Brian Pastoria, drummer for DC Drive, witnessed Kid Rock’s early rock influences firsthand. “I remember Bob coming to a bunch of our shows at the Ritz in the early ’90s. Our singer, Joey Bowen, liked the Beastie Boys, so when we did ‘You Need Love,’ we’d have this big breakdown with Joey rapping.” Pastoria understood Kid Rock’s shift away from pure rap: “Bob knew he couldn’t keep going down that Vanilla Ice path. It got him attention at first, but he realized that’s not where he wanted to be. He was tired of the rap thing with programmed tracks. He wanted to do the Beastie Boys thing — only in a bigger, more rock kind of way.”
Amidst the scrappy Detroit hip-hop scene of the 90s, alongside acts like Insane Clown Posse and Eminem, Kid Rock was carving his niche. In 1993, life took another turn when his son, Robert Ritchie Jr., was born. Later that year, he connected with White Room Studios, run by rock musicians Michael and Andrew Nehra. There, he recorded the “Fire It Up” EP, his final release for Continuum, featuring the rock-infused “I Am the Bullgod” and a country cover of Hank Williams Jr.’s “Country Boy Can Survive.” Demonstrating his entrepreneurial spirit, Kid Rock launched his own label, Top Dog Records, releasing “Bootleg” cassettes to keep his music circulating locally.
Bob Ebeling, a drummer and engineer who lived with Kid Rock during this period, describes a challenging time. “We were living together… at possibly his lowest point. He had lived with (girlfriend) Kelly. There were three kids, he thought two of them were his, and then he found out that one of them wasn’t. He was really emotionally torn up, going through that deep heartbreak stuff.” Financial struggles compounded the emotional turmoil. “He was also kind of disenfranchised from his dad at that point. There wasn’t a lot of financial support coming from the family. So he was probably most alone at that point — being heartbroken and away from his family and being on a smaller label like Continuum, not getting as much financial support.”
Yet, Ebeling emphasizes the unwavering force driving the young artist: “But the one thing that was still there: He was motivated by fame… fame is quite an ugly thing to me, and most people would be scared to death of it, but he was driven by it. He talked about it in ways that didn’t even make sense to me. He relished it.” This hunger for recognition fueled Kid Rock’s relentless pursuit. “He loved when we went somewhere to eat and somebody recognized him. He had this whole reward system in his head that didn’t exist in other people’s heads: When people recognize you and want a piece of you, it was the equivalent of being wealthy. He just ate it up.”
Al Sutton, co-founder of White Room Studio, recalls Kid Rock’s arrival. “We were the grunge, hard-rock studio. Bands came in with amplifiers, guitars and drums. And in walks this guy with a sampler and MPC60.” Kid Rock’s skills quickly proved valuable. “He started hanging out in the studio. We needed somebody with his skills in our camp. He could program and loop, and we needed to be a little more current in that way.” He essentially took over a studio space. “We had a B-room that he basically took over, coming in midday and staying ’til 5 in the morning.”
Michael Nehra, White Room owner, describes a productive collaboration. “Andy (Nehra) and I were a conduit for his creativity by giving him a studio to use. We worked with him in coproduction, engineering, some writing stuff. Bob was really fun to work with back then. He was creative, and we were all really good friends. We gave him the keys to the studio after the Continuum thing, and he created a lot of cool stuff there. There was this energy between the two rooms, creating music.” Sutton adds, “He was cleaning all the time. He’s a real neat freak, had to have his place really tidy. He’d vacuum the B-room and then go to work.” The studio environment became symbiotic. “We thought he was good energy to have around. If we needed something programmed, he’d be here; if he needed a guitar part or drums, we could set it up. It became this symbiotic relationship.”
Keyboardist Jimmie Bones remembers Kid Rock as a constant presence. “He was this guy that was always around, his Dickies and stocking cap on. He started asking me to come in: ‘Hey, I’m doing a track; can you throw on some piano?'” The Nehra brothers played a key role in shaping Kid Rock’s evolving sound. Nehra explains, “He was learning from my brother and I. We were there playing the guitar and bass on ‘Bullgod.’ Bob wrote the song, but my brother and I made it sound like ‘Bullgod.’ Bob could play some guitar, but my brother and I were rock ‘n’ rollers who played the groove thing with Robert Bradley, and that energy certainly rubbed off. When he first came into the studio he didn’t really sound like that.” The studio fostered a fusion of styles. “He was starting to get more of a rock edge, and that’s what we tapped into — that rock ‘n’ roll spirit, that Detroit soul thing.”
Clark recalls a pivotal moment when he recognized Kid Rock’s singing ability. “The first time I ever heard him sing, East Detroit had recently changed its name to Eastpointe. So Bob changed the lyrics to Billy Joel’s ‘It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me’ to record a cover version called ‘It’s Still East Detroit to Me.’ He started singing, and I was like, ‘Dude, you sound amazing!’ He was just (messing) around, but he sounded really good. I could hear the tone. He could hit the notes.” This early encouragement proved significant. “When ‘Only God Knows Why’ became a big hit later on (in 1999), he looked at me and said, ‘You know, you were the first (person) who told me I could sing.'”
Peterson also witnessed Kid Rock’s hidden vocal talent at karaoke nights. “We’d have these Orbit karaoke nights, and that’s when I learned he could actually sing. He’d do ‘Stayin’ Alive,’ all the parts. Plus he brought the mushrooms, which made the karaoke even more fun.” Himes remembers Kid Rock’s relentless hustle. “He was hustling, coming in on a regular basis to drop off his (tapes and records) on consignment. He had flyers for his shows, tickets for the DJ things he was doing. He already had a vision. He was promoting himself, trying to meet the right people. We’d sit in the store and he’d ask me questions at length — where to get records pressed, that kind of thing. He would pick your brain, just thirsty for information.”
Despite his efforts, recognition from the mainstream Detroit music scene was slow to come. Sutton notes, “He was killing it on the little tapes he was releasing, selling a ton of his own cassettes out of the record stores and his car. And he was making good money playing gigs. But Bob wasn’t getting a lot of credit from the hipsters and rock scene in Detroit. It was, ‘Oh, he’s a white rapper; no need to take him seriously.'” Producer Mark Bass observed, “He was innovative, always a few steps ahead of what hip-hop was doing. But hip-hop didn’t want to hear it, because he was this white guy with the long rock hair.”
Photographer Scott Legato recounts an early encounter when he was a club DJ. “I was a DJ, spinning rap at the Struttin’ Club on Gratiot. He showed up with his records. I blew him off. Showed up again; blew him off. Third time, I owed him. So I put it on. The owner immediately ran in yelling, ‘Take that shit off!’ I stopped the record. Kid Rock walked up and said, ‘You’re an asshole. Give me my records back.'”
Clark believes Insane Clown Posse’s success fueled Kid Rock’s ambition. “I think ICP fueled Bob a lot. He wasn’t a big fan, and when he saw these guys selling out the State Theatre, it threw gas on his flame. They really didn’t get along. I was the guy in the middle: friends with Bob and working with ICP.” Kid Rock’s tenacity was undeniable. “He was tenacious: ‘OK, that thing didn’t work; let’s try this or that.’ And he kept gaining fans around town. He had the talent. He just needed to figure out how he could make other people realize he was a force to be reckoned with.”
Nieporte describes Kid Rock’s innovative marketing tactics. “He’d go to every high school around here and pop his trunk open when school let out, handing out free samplers. Back then, all-ages shows didn’t really exist. It was 18 and over, headliners going on at midnight. So Bob comes in, promotes his shows as all-ages with early starts, and he’s getting 1,200 kids in there.” His fanbase was primarily east side Detroit. “He drew from all over (metro Detroit), but predominantly the east side. He was from Romeo, and he had cut his chops in Mt. Clemens, so those were his roots.”
Uncle Kracker, Kid Rock’s early DJ, emphasizes his strategic approach to building a following. “He built a following. He’d play the Majestic or the Ritz, then bounce around back to (smaller venues like) Alvin’s or St. Andrew’s. He would play once every six months or so — make it look like he was coming through on tour as opposed to beating everybody in Michigan over the head every weekend. He was very smart about that whole supply-and-demand thing.” His audience was unique. “You’d have 900 people in the room — all these little white kids who dropped acid and liked listening to gangsta rap.”
Marc Kempf, a hip-hop promoter, sees Kid Rock as a singular figure. “There were (hip-hop) scenes developing at the Hip Hop Shop and St. Andrew’s Hall… But he was a maverick. He was doing his thing. He wasn’t part of another scene, coming up with other artists.” Bass highlights Kid Rock’s broader appeal. “With Bobby’s thing, he didn’t have to fit in the same way Marshall (Eminem) did. Marshall was on that underground hip-hop, kind of edgy, street level. Bobby was also on the street level — just a different street with nicer lights. (Laughs) When you saw Kid Rock onstage, it was such a show that it was more of an alternative-rock thing.”
A pivotal influence emerged in 1994 at the Bear’s Den in Berkley. The Howling Diablos, a funky, eclectic band led by Tino Gross, hosted a Sunday music scene that Kid Rock frequented. Gross’s stage presence and the Diablos’ sound significantly impacted Kid Rock’s performance style. His shows evolved beyond a standard rap setup. He began assembling a rotating cast of musicians, eventually solidifying into Twisted Brown Trucker.
Gross recalls their connection. “Bob’s sister Carol was a cocktail waitress, and she told him about us. He told me later, ‘I figured if she liked you, it had to be wack, because she’s my older sister. Man, was I wrong.'” The Bear’s Den atmosphere was special. “There was some magical energy going on in the Bear’s Den. It was this real organic underground thing, all about the music. A lot of things came together there, and Bob was a big part of it. He’d come in right behind us with his turntables and record crate. He’d scratch with us, and after a while, I was giving him the mic. He’d be our toaster, rap some stuff, sing the choruses together. The Diablos’ mentality was like jazz musicians — anything can fit in.” Kid Rock was consciously expanding his reach. “He had been doing these all-ages shows around town… Now he was trying to grow his brand and reach older people more into rock and blues, beyond the limited young hip-hop crowd around Detroit.”
Photographer Brad Shaw affirms the Diablos’ influence. “The Howling Diablos were good, and he got a lot of ideas from them. Tino is such a great showman, and the whole band are such great players. Bob was down there every Sunday night… I’m sure he got a lot of this and that from them, there’s no doubt. He put that in the back of his head. He was always about the funk and rock ‘n’ roll anyway. He knew his hometown stuff. He was aware of everything, from Seger to Alice Cooper.” Bones adds, “The Bear’s Den thing was a real melting pot vibe… That played a big role in making Bob known. He could get up there and freestyle and put that into a jam situation. It helped him cross over to maybe some folks that wouldn’t have taken that (rap) genre very seriously, or weren’t all that knowledgeable about it.”
Clark agrees, “Bob was fascinated by all that. The fact that they could put on a live show and captivate an audience — that was inspirational.” Gross acknowledges the influence. “A lot of people will tell you he got a lot from the Howling Diablos, that’s true… But we were older, and he was a young guy soaking it in. Ideas were flowing on that scene. Our thing was probably the closest to what he ultimately ended up doing.” It wasn’t a one-way street, however. “There were many times Bob said, ‘You guys are going to be the next big wave out of here.’ He was very much a supporter. So it wasn’t like, ‘I’m taking their thing and running away with it.’ It was an overlapping, organic thing.”
Kracker recalls the band’s formation. “I started DJing for him (in 1990) when I was still in high school… He figured out he could start playing bars in other cities if he had an actual backup band too. Nobody was going to book him with just the track thing behind him. So he started putting together a group.” Gross believes the Diablos directly inspired this move. “I think he saw with us how it works to rap over a live band. He could see it and feel it. Sometime around the Bear’s Den period, he decided to put his own thing together, similar to what we were doing, and he created a band.”
Ebeling dates the first band performance to late 1993. “The first big concert with the band was at St. Andrew’s, sometime in the late fall of ’93. That was the first incarnation of Twisted Brown Trucker, though it wasn’t called that just yet.” Bones points to other influences. “That idea also came from Public Enemy, (rap acts) like that who were using live stuff. Chuck D had started running live bands. The Beasties too. Those guys had a huge influence on him.” Ebeling describes Kid Rock’s meticulous approach to live shows. “He was very interactive in his show, constantly changing up the sequence… He had the whole thing orchestrated, orchestrating the band and the background sequence.” Nehra notes the evolving musical community. “He was experimenting with different musicians. There was this circle of people around Detroit. It wasn’t the Jack White circle. It was this unsung, not-quite-so-hip movement that was going on.”
Early touring was a struggle. Ebeling recounts, “In 1994, we booked a couple of weeks on the road, odd dates in Sarnia, around Iowa and Ohio, some of the colleges. We went out and did these half-assed gigs in front of 20 people, sometimes five. If it was closer to home like Toledo, it would be pretty packed, a couple hundred kids. And every time we were back around Detroit, it would be a full house… You were definitely feeling the struggle of it all, unless we were home playing the Palladium or Ritz — 2,000 kids, $2,000 in merchandise, $40,000 at the door.” Band member turnover was high. “It’s nearly impossible to track all the early variations of Twisted Brown Trucker. There was massive turnover. That’s because (band members) were saying, ‘OK, I’m not really getting paid from this, and he is.'”
Vickie Siler, an early Toledo fan, recalls seeing Kid Rock in 1993 for $5 or $7. “I was in my early 20s. I was mostly a rap fan, but I still loved hanging out with the drunk uncles listening to classic rock. When I saw Kid Rock, I was like, ‘Well, that’s it!’… I could tell he had a voice like Rage Against the Machine — that harsh rocker voice — along with his rapping skills. Just this crazy dude. He had that cocky walk to him, the real pimp thing.” His music resonated with a diverse crowd. “Stripper music, I called it. That boom-boom bass, where you could feel it. It was dirty, dingy, nasty, just some kind of fun stuff. We’d go to the show and dance, then go back to work.”
Joe C’s arrival added a new dimension to the live show. Gross recounts the inspiration. “I did an interview with Dr. John on my blues radio show, and he went on and on about the midgets who were a big part of the New Orleans rhythm-and-blues scene, the whole carnival thing down there. I gave Bob a tape of that show to listen to on a road trip… Joe C had already been showing up at Bob’s shows as a fan. Being the guy he is, Bob doesn’t miss a trick. After that, he looked out at Joe C one night and a light bulb went off.” Joe C, who stood 3 feet 9 inches tall, became an integral part of Kid Rock’s stage show.
Nieporte booked Kid Rock at the State Theatre in 1994. “I wanted to book Bob there, and there was some worry that it was too big. I really put my ass on the line. It was the first State show he did with Joe C and Uncle Kracker, and we ended up with well over 2,000 people.” Gross emphasizes Joe C’s impact. “It was such a showbiz thing. Joe C made the band more exciting… Onstage, it was a beautiful thing.” Joe C’s presence sometimes sparked controversy, as Gross recalls a Detroit Music Awards incident in 1997. “Ted Nugent was on the radio the next day ranting: ‘This Kid Rock character had a 6-year-old boy up there. It’s just not right!’ Kid Rock just smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.” Lee remembers the family atmosphere around Kid Rock, even with Joe C’s unique role. “There was a family atmosphere around Bob. When Junior became the same size as Joe C, he could never understand why Joe C got to do stuff like run into the street, drink beer, leave with the adults. It was always hysterical.”
In 1996, Kid Rock released “Early Mornin’ Stoned Pimp,” his most rock-oriented album to date, featuring collaborations with Detroit musicians including Gross and the Nehras. He told the Free Press at the time, “I always wanted guitars and live stuff. And that comes with money and connections… So I’ve tried to surround myself with talented people that I get along with.” Ebeling jokingly credits Kid Rock’s partying stamina as a key to his rock star persona. “Bob just has this unreal constitution that can keep partying… He can party for three days straight. You’ll wake up that fourth day and feel like dying. He snaps out of bed ready for the party to keep going. And it’s not that he’s cheating — he’s as drunk and stoned as anybody else. He’s got something in his genes.” The album title itself arose from this lifestyle. “One morning, we both woke up at the apartment after a couple hours of sleep. He was revved up and ready to continue that level of insanity. And it just came out of my mouth: ‘Dude, you are the early-morning, stoned pimp.'”
R&B singer Thornetta Davis, who sang on “Early Mornin’ Stoned Pimp,” recognized Kid Rock’s vocal talent early on. “He was hanging out at the White Room a lot then. I sang on a couple of things on ‘Early Mornin’ Stoned Pimp.’ He was showing us what to sing, and I said, ‘Wow, you’ve got a voice — you’re not just a rapper!’ And lo and behold, he’s a singer now.” Ebeling notes the album’s momentum and the solidification of Kid Rock’s image. “He was gaining momentum with ‘Early Mornin’ Stoned Pimp,’ had his whole Detroit posse going, and stabilizing the band with the final lineup — Kenny Olson and Jason Krause on guitar. He had Joe C up there, starting to get the final elements of how it was going to look. It was becoming the well-groomed show he would (later) tour with.”
Shaw recalls the evolving stage persona, including the pimp outfits. “He played the Club in Toledo around that time, and began the routine of changing into his pimp getup. He’d run offstage back toward us, tearing his clothes off. There wasn’t much time. You’ve got a guy throwing on a ’70s pimp outfit — it was hysterical and hard not to laugh… He’d go back out in the pimp outfit with a gun down his pants. And it was a real gun. (Laughs) You’d have to ask him if it was loaded. It probably was.” Peterson remembers the fun-loving side of Kid Rock. “He was just a lot of fun to be with. If you went to the strip bar with Bob, you’d have dancers sitting all over… When you went out with Bob after he started getting some money, it was great. Always crazy fun.” Lee echoes this, “It’s well known that a lot of partying was going on… Nights would turn into days pretty fast. The bars, the hundreds of beers, the chicks. He was just a cool, fun guy to be around.”
However, Lee emphasizes Kid Rock’s focus amidst the partying. “But that shouldn’t overshadow the fact that Bob was deadly serious about two things: raising Junior, and his career.” Bass sees the partying as part of the rock star image. “The partying just added to the whole thing. Same thing that made Mick Jagger. He was never out of control. He was always a great businessman, a marketing genius.” Shaw stresses Kid Rock’s constant drive to improve. “It was never about laying around getting stoned, thinking he’s a rock star. He was constantly asking, ‘What can I do to top that?’ He was always going a step ahead of the last show… He’d call at 3 in the morning: ‘Dude, I’ll meet you at the White Room in an hour. I’ve got a stripper to help with a photo shoot.'”
Lee describes early resistance to Kid Rock’s style from some parts of the Detroit scene. “Bob and his boys dressed a little different — the windbreakers, baggy pants, high-tops. We would take them to hang out in certain rock ‘n’ roll establishments, and not only did they stand out, we were sometimes told they weren’t welcome.” Gross recounts a negative reaction at Memphis Smoke. “Memphis Smoke (in Royal Oak) was really pushing the Diablos to do a show… But we start playing, Bob shows up and gets up there rapping. Fun night. I go back in the manager’s office, and he reads the riot act. ‘What was that blond asshole doing onstage with you guys? Don’t ever bring that shit around here again. You guys don’t need that!'” This resistance highlighted the novelty of Kid Rock’s fusion sound. “That sound had not been on the radio yet. And they saw rap as some garbage music that was for stupid kids. We knew it could work. To me, it was like punk rock — we were building our own scene, and not everybody was down with it.”
Sutton notes Kid Rock’s astute understanding of changing musical trends. “One of the records coming out then was Alanis Morissette’s ‘Jagged Little Pill.’ A lot of rock guys didn’t like that album — it was programmed, had the drum machines. We were hanging out with a guy saying it sucked. Bob said, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. That record is going to be huge.’ Bob was totally on it. He saw the writing on the wall, where music was going, and he totally grabbed that.” Joel Martin, owner of 54 Sound, was impressed by Kid Rock’s early adoption of internet marketing. “This kid was doing something with the Internet that others weren’t hip to yet. His small house in Royal Oak was like a crash pad and record company… The mailing lists, the street teams. He had a crew of people working the computer, doing things that at the time were really foreign. He understood at the very beginning what the whole Internet thing was about.” Sutton adds, “I was impressed. A young dude in music, already buying a house. Not too bad. He had interns that would come in from different states. It was hilarious — some kid flying in from California to make flyers for a couple of months. Bob always worked like he was a superstar.”
Manager Steve Hutton and attorney Tommy Valentino helped expand Kid Rock’s reach beyond Detroit, garnering attention from major labels. In 1997, Jason Flom of Lava Records took notice. Sutton remembers Kid Rock’s vision for his next phase. “We were at a restaurant in Royal Oak… and he said, ‘Man, my next record … I’ve come up with this thing. I’m going to do a redneck, shit-kicking rock ‘n’ roll rap band.’ Everybody was laughing — ‘So that’s it, eh?'” Valentino was convinced of Kid Rock’s live show appeal. “I flew in to see him at the State Theatre (in 1996). I was blown away by his performance, how packed the place was, and the diversity of the people there — everything from bikers to strippers to in between… At one point a woman threw a bra onstage, and I’m thinking, ‘This is an old-time rock ‘n’ roll show!'” Despite this, initial label interest was lukewarm. “Steve Hutton and I were shopping Kid Rock together (to record labels). No one was interested: ‘White rap isn’t what’s in right now.’ They weren’t getting it. It was frustrating. I kept saying, ‘He’s not a white rapper. He’s a rock star and everything in between.’ I really felt that if someone just saw the live show, they were going to sign him.”
Flom eventually saw the potential. “Andrew Karp, an A&R guy for Lava, went to see him in Cleveland at a place called the Grog Shop. He told me, ‘Hey, there were only 40 people there, but the guy put on a stadium show. He came out of a coffin at the beginning, he’s got this vertically challenged guy, and it’s a spectacle. You’ve got to see it.'” Valentino describes Kid Rock’s captivating stage presence. “From a visual perspective, he was just starting to develop the persona that exploded, jumping up and down, hair going back and forth, no shirt… He never stopped moving onstage the whole time. It was stunning to see visually… The live show was a combination of hip-hop, rock, even some country. There was almost a Lynyrd Skynyrd thing going on. In trying to sell this (to record labels), it became clear to me that the rock angle was what really needed to be stressed.”
Flom was convinced after seeing Kid Rock at the State Theatre. “We went to Detroit shortly thereafter to see him at the State Theatre. And it was every bit the spectacle that we’d talked about.” The Detroit Free Press previewed this crucial showcase gig in May 1997: “When Detroit hip-hop-roots-rocker Kid Rock hits the State Theatre stage Friday night, there will be some important sets of ears in the audience. It’s a showcase gig, and the major label reps are heading into the house to check out the colorful, pounding show from Rock and his crew.” Bones recalls the heightened stakes. “It was a big thing. There was a little more rehearsing that went on for that one. You could feel there was a lot at stake. But it was still a lot of fun — not like a lot of tension or anything. Something just felt like the shit was about to hit.” Martin was blown away by the performance. “I was knocked out of my seat at the State Theatre. It was like watching an explosion. Joe C was up there. The whole presentation was so carnival-like. He’s got the savvy of a P.T. Barnum. He mixed those styles, and it just worked. It seemed symbolic of changing times.” Nieporte recounts Flom’s intense questioning after the show. “Flom pulled me aside and spent half an hour drilling me with questions: How well do you know him, does he do drugs, is his head on straight? Bob put on a phenomenal show that day. He got signed because of that gig.”
Flom describes the deal-making that followed. “After (the show), we arranged to meet in the basement of some disco club, some crazy place in Detroit. Rock got there about 2:30 in the morning. We sat there under the fluorescent lights, a very surreal setting, to discuss what kind of record would he make. After that meeting, he went and laid down a couple of tracks — ‘Somebody’s Gotta Feel This’ and ‘I Got One for Ya’ — and sent them to us a few weeks later… I was in a car in L.A. on Hollywood Boulevard when I put in the two tracks. I called him immediately and said, ‘I’ll give you whatever you want.’ We made a deal on the phone.”
With a major label contract secured, Kid Rock began working on “Devil Without a Cause” in spring 1998, recording at White Room and finalizing tracks in Los Angeles. Uncle Kracker played a significant songwriting role. Valentino notes, “Kracker brought a different melodic sensibility. Bob could give you all the other stuff, from the beats to the arrangements to the attitude. They developed into a great songwriting team.” Kracker describes their collaborative process. “I would help writing verses and whatnot. But more than anything else, I was his biggest cheerleader and worst critic. If something fell out of his mouth and sucked, I’d tell him… But he’s great with melodies and lyrics. And he’s great under pressure.”
Lee sensed the impending breakthrough. “You could feel it coming, the build-up before ‘Devil.’ When guys like (Atlantic Records founder) Ahmet Ertegun and Jason Flom are coming into town, you can tell something special is going on.” Nehra describes the album’s creation. “He took some tracks he’d previously recorded, remixed, overdubbed the vocals. ‘Bullgod’ was an older one. Others he did from scratch — ‘Cowboy’ was a brand new track… It was an exciting time. We knew where Bob was heading.” Bass recounts a Detroit connection in LA during album production. “We were with Marshall (Eminem) at the Mix Room in L.A. (finishing ‘The Slim Shady LP’) at the same time Bobby was there. Marshall wanted these deep vooka-vooka scratches on ‘My Fault,’ so Bobby goes in and does those cuts, while Marshall goes in the other room and writes part of a song for him… It was cool because we were both doing these records at the same time, and it was starting to feel like Detroit had it all sewed up.”
“Devil Without a Cause” was released in August 1998. Initial sales were slow, but MTV appearances, radio hits like “Bawitdaba” and “Cowboy,” and a performance at Woodstock ’99 catapulted Kid Rock to national fame. Flom recalls the pivotal MTV moment. “The first appearance he did on ‘Fashionably Loud’ on MTV (in December 1998), he performed ‘Bawitdaba.’ That was one where everybody went, uh oh.” Valentino recognized the significance of Woodstock ’99. “When he took the stage at Woodstock, I was so nervous. I said to myself, this is going to be a really, really big moment… But every minute going by he was killing it more and more. It was like an athlete in the zone. It was that powerful. He’d been playing out. But really, what he displayed in that show was the savvy of a performer who had done 10 or 12 world tours.” Bass reflects on Kid Rock’s lasting impact. “I’m not sure I’ll be hearing (Eminem’s) ‘My Name Is’ on a classic rap station in 20 years. But you’ll be hearing Bobby on classic rock and country. He made it work. Who thought we’d have country music with 808 kick drums.”
Lee concludes that early setbacks were crucial to Kid Rock’s success. “He had come back from New York after Jive with his tail between his legs. Doors were getting slammed in his face. Even around a lot of the music scene in Detroit, he was an outcast. In retrospect, that might have been the best thing to happen to him. The progress he made on his own meant they had to pay attention.” Clark circles back to Kid Rock’s early confidence. “That first time I saw him when he walked into the studio in 1989, nobody knew who the hell he was, and he was carrying himself with so much confidence… When he was making ‘Devil Without a Cause,’ he played me those first demos, and I listened to him rapping, ‘I’m going platinum, I’m going platinum.’ I said, ‘Come on, man. You haven’t sold shit.’ But he knew. He shut me up. He shut everybody up.”
Kid Rock’s journey from a young, determined artist navigating the Detroit music scene to a global rock icon is a testament to his resilience, vision, and relentless pursuit of fame. His Detroit roots are not just a backdrop, but the very foundation of the Kid Rock persona the world has come to know.
