As Kid Rock reinvented himself as Bob Seger for the crystal meth era, so goes Yelawolf. In a transparent bid for that Macklemore crossover appeal, Yelawolf refines his target demographic to the 21st Century Cool Dad. This shit is made to be pumped in a Prius as they drop their fauxhawked little hellraiser off at soccer practice, all the square dads totally buggin out on their righteous Sailor Jerry style sleeve. Earlier he collaborated with Ed Sheeran and Travis Barker, but has since found his niche as the Rap Game Jeff Foxworthy. I find it highly offensive that he's perpetuating redneck stereotypes for monetary gain, so let's reflect on all the cliches in "Whiskey In A Bottle."
Whiskey. Countless country artists know: if you wanna get a redneck vibe poppin off, mention whiskey in the title.
Flannel. Flannel is the whiskey of the fashion world.
Rockabilly haircuts and face tats. The rockabilly haircut offsets the ex-con connotation of a face tat, while still leaving open the possibility you got some thug in you.
Choppers. The Ruff Ryders favored Asian crotchrockets, but Yelawolf and his comrades are fetishists of old-school American craftsmanship. It's a powerful symbol. Whereas the crotch rocket conjures memories of beatdowns on the West Side Highway, the chopper represents the paler, more picturesque rebellions of Easy Rider and James Dean. We at RMH regard all motorcyclists as violent thugs who must be stopped.
Leather jackets, fedoras, and a traditional American tattoo parlor round out this slur against hipster redneck culture. What, no barber's pole? Surely some Americana-obsessed yuppie will blast this in his mancave of leather furniture and single malts, raising his glass high as he condescends to the hopeless souls cashing unemployment checks in Walmart country. This is the most hateful indictment of '50s greaser nostalgia since Reverend Horton Heat.