"Kid Rock’s establishment ruined the days when you could casually walk down Broadway and decide where to check out based on the music coming out of each bar. There’s a full band going hard from open to close, and Kid clearly insists that only his music blasts through the speakers in between. It looks like a giant warehouse taken over by “rock and roll, man” and it smells like bad decisions as soon as you walk in. The main floor bar is outfitted with blacklights, a slang term for female anatomy is illuminated in pink neon on the second floor, and the menu has a staggering amount of syrupy sweet drinks with names like Fist of Rage. All of this is supposed to complement a $56 ribeye. For a place where the goal is to be the loudest and most obnoxious, it thankfully employs some powerhouse vocal talent most of the time." - Ann Walczak