In a move that fuses the raw energy of politics with the rebellious spirit of rock ‘n’ roll, former President Donald Trump has signed an executive order targeting the predatory practices of ticket resellers. Flanking him at the Oval Office signing ceremony was none other than Kid Rock, the Detroit-born troubadour whose presence turned a policy rollout into a cultural statement. This wasn’t just a bureaucratic flex—it was a middle finger to the bots and scalpers who’ve turned the simple act of buying a concert ticket into a Kafkaesque ordeal. And in true Trumpian fashion, it came with a dose of spectacle that Variety readers, from industry insiders to diehard fans, could hardly ignore.
The executive order itself is a direct assault on the ticketing industry’s underbelly. It zeroes in on the shadowy ecosystem where automated bots snatch up tickets to sold-out shows faster than you can say “refresh page,” only to flip them on resale platforms at markups that would make a loan shark blush. The directive tasks the Federal Trade Commission and the Department of Justice with enforcing competition laws in the live entertainment sector, while demanding price transparency at every step of the ticket-buying process. It’s a bid to give fans a fighting chance against the digital middlemen who’ve made seeing your favorite artist live feel like a luxury reserved for the ultra-rich or the ultra-lucky.
Then there’s Kid Rock—real name Robert James Ritchie—whose involvement adds a layer of gritty authenticity to the proceedings. No stranger to the stage, he’s been a vocal critic of the ticketing racket for years, and his remarks at the signing were pure, unfiltered frustration. “Anyone who’s bought a concert ticket in the last decade, maybe 20 years—no matter what your politics are—knows that it’s a conundrum,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s seen the game from both sides. “You buy a ticket for a hundred bucks, by the time you check out it’s $170, you don’t know what you’re getting charged for. But more importantly, these bots—they come in and get all the good tickets to your favorite shows you want to go to, and then they’re relisted immediately for sometimes a 400 or 500% markup.” It’s a sentiment that hits home for anyone who’s ever watched a “sold out” show pop up on StubHub minutes later at triple the price.
The order doesn’t stop at rhetoric. It ropes in Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent and Attorney General Pam Bondi to ensure scalpers jacking up prices comply with IRS rules—a move the White House calls a crackdown on “unscrupulous middle men who impose egregious fees.” Even Live Nation, the behemoth behind Ticketmaster, voiced support, backing “meaningful resale reforms” like tougher enforcement of the 2016 BOTS Act, which bans bot-driven ticket grabs, and caps on resale prices. It’s a rare moment of alignment in an industry often at war with itself.
But let’s zoom out. This isn’t just about nailing scalpers or saving fans a few bucks—it’s a snapshot of where technology, commerce, and culture collide in the digital age. We live in a world where algorithms don’t just recommend your next Netflix binge; they dictate whether you get to scream your lungs out at a Springsteen gig or watch it from your couch on YouTube. The Taylor Swift Eras Tour debacle, where Ticketmaster’s meltdown left fans facing resale prices in the stratosphere, wasn’t an anomaly—it was a wake-up call. Trump’s order, with Kid Rock as its leather-jacketed hype man, is a loud, brash attempt to wrestle back control from the machines and the profiteers who run them.
Does it work? That’s the million-dollar question. The order leans heavily on enforcing existing laws like the BOTS Act, but it’s light on new teeth. Skeptics might call it a populist stunt—Trump himself admitted he only recently clocked the issue’s scale, saying, “I checked it out, and it is a big problem,” before handing the mic to Kid Rock. Yet there’s no denying the symbolic heft. Kid Rock, a Trump stalwart who rocked the Republican National Convention, brings a blue-collar cred that cuts through partisan noise. “I want the fans to have fair ticket prices, to be able to go enjoy more shows,” he said, laying bare the Catch-22 he faces as an artist: “If I set my ticket prices low, these bots immediately eat them up and they resell for hundreds of dollars more and I’m just making these bad actors rich.”
For Trump, it’s a chance to play the everyman’s champion, a role he relishes. For Kid Rock, it’s personal—a fight for the soul of live music. But for the rest of us, it’s a glimpse into a bigger tussle: how do we keep art and culture accessible when every transaction is a battlefield of code and cash? The government stepping in to referee the entertainment marketplace raises eyebrows—too much meddling, and you risk stifling the very creativity you’re trying to protect. Too little, and the fans lose out to the highest bidder.
So here we are, watching Trump and Kid Rock tag-team the ticket scalpers in a plot twist no one saw coming. Will it rewrite the rules of the game, or is it just another loud chorus in a saga with no clear encore? One thing’s for sure: in the eternal clash of art versus commerce, the spotlight’s back on, and the audience—fans, artists, and industry suits alike—is leaning in to see what happens next.
