In the year of our Lord 1998, Fred Durst erected the foundation upon which he turned inane rap-rock into a holy empire.
King Durst prudently assembled a court capable of assisting his devious hijacking of commercial airwaves with steroid-boosted metal riffs, rudimentary beats and a message that plundered hip-hop's most obnoxious characteristics.
To the king's right slumped Prince Aaron Lewis, following Durst's advice toward fame while harboring no hope of challenging his histrionics. Korn served as his wise men, providing the musical rap-rock groundwork for Durst to bastardize with pop hooks and excessive machismo.
But where did Kid Rock fit into this court?
For a little under a decade, the Detroit native had been melding crude but earnestly old-school rap with hedonistic, trashy rock in relative obscurity. Commercially breaking through with "Devil Without a Cause," Rock perfected his flamboyant persona as he hawked an engorging lifestyle and forecasted the success it would reap.
Decked in fur coats and glossy suits, Rock provided guilty pleasures and celebrated his meager social standing. He thus openly embraced his court position: the jester.
Just three years later, however, Durst's empire lies on the cusp of implosion. Burgeoning guitarist Wes Borland has abandoned Limp Bizkit and Durst has become more a caricature than a musician, shamelessly exploiting any media coverage while selling out with the grace of Vanilla Ice.
And just as Don McLean prophesized 40 years ago, when the king looks down the jester will try to steal his thorny crown.
Making allies with everyone from ZZ Top to Eminem and capturing rock's premier trophy wife, Pamela Anderson, Rock has politicked himself to a more respected position, musically and popularly.
"Cocky" is the final manifestation of this effort - a concentrated coup d'etat staged by Rock to ascend to the rap-rock throne.
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Employing a familiar barrage of styles recycled from his prior musical spectrum, Rock only increases the intensity and production value of his songs on the first half of the album. "Cocky" borrows liberally from '70s southern rock previously monopolized by the Black Crows, late '80s Metallica and the entire Lynyrd Skynyrd catalogue.
Rock doesn't write songs - he writes anthems, as if he can imagine a stadium packed with drunken fans reiterating his Steven Tyler howl with raised, pumping fists. "I got rich off keeping it real/While you Radioheads are out reinventing the wheel," he vauntingly boasts on "Lay it On Me," reveling in his own ignorance.
"Cocky" is the best album Ted Nugent never made.
Rock lacks the confidence to let his music prove his artistic worth, so he devotes the majority of "Cocky" to personally glorifying himself and alluring disgruntled youth with lavish fantasies of mansions, jacked-up Cadillacs and "big corn-fed Midwestern" girls.
Unfortunately, however winsome his personality or refreshing his honesty, Rock's insistence on deploring his hackney rhyming skills are detrimental and distracting. "I'm the illest fool/Cooler than the water in a swimming pool," he raps on the title track, stretching even the tolerance awarded to most white rappers.
Falling into a creative rut, "Cocky" diverges on an unexpected tangent midway through the album. While Rock has professed his love for Hank Williams' country-rock, his music never displayed the affinity - until now.
"Lonely Road of Faith," complete with cooing harmonies and religious imagery, picks up where "Only God Knows Why" left the power ballad, while "Pictures," a minimally-charged duet with Sheryl Crow (!), somberly nods to Merle Haggard with a weeping steel guitar. "I put your picture away/Sat down and cried today" sings an emasculated Rock.
Rock's ominous insecurity lurks in each of the twangy songs, as if his desire to follow his southern muse is always hampered by a consciousness of its destined reception by shallow fans.
Instead of eschewing the nagging insecurity, Rock takes the easy way out - exploding into his traditional bombastic rock midway through most of the ballads, hoping to prove his versatility but only revealing the opposite.
Like much of "Cocky," the songs nobly fall short, but they may be enough to elevate him above the position of the man who would be king.
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