Who got inducted when and how many hits did this band have and who performed to honor that lady are likely among the more than 1,700 questions and 87 cards players will see in the The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Trivia Board Game, one of many frivolous items currently being peddled at the Hall's website.
Questions most likely not asked in this product nudged somewhere between socks and Arby's gift cards on most people's Christmas list:
- Who is the biggest douche ever to be inducted? (Answer: Jackson Browne, 2004)
- How the hell are two of the biggest and best rock and roll bands of all time - Cheap Trick and Kiss - not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? (Answer: Rock Hall voters have no testicles)
Big Daddy Donahue scares yet another child.
- Who has the best beard in RNR HoF history? (Answer: deejay Tom "Big Daddy" Donahue)
- When will this irrelevant pile of rubble move someplace where something significant in rock actually happened (and not just to some town that had a revitalization project going on and outbid everyone else) and transform into a mighty fortress honoring the best of the best as judged by people with actual taste in music and knowledge of things that didn't happen before 1975? (Answer: When Jann Wenner finally hears Guided By Voices or The Replacements and discovers Rock and Roll).
Something like this should be shown to Jann and the other clueless 500 Rock Hall voters, "Clockwork Orange" style. Maybe they'd grow a set.
You could navigate your way to the Rock Hall website and waste $29.99 on this pile of garbage, only it's somehow out of stock, likely gobbled up by "music aficionados" everywhere. No wonder music sucks so bad.
There's something significant about the fact that the induction event in 1991 was delayed by the beginning of Bush I's bombing of Baghdad.
But not because the start of the war was good or bad, but because Rolling Stone maestro and Rock Hall King Jann Wenner proved once again that he's a Grade A douche by reciting the lyrics to a Jackson Browne song. If you're going to speak out against a military action, you go Dylan, or Woody, or even Bruce, right? But Jackson Freaking Browne? There's a sweet spot in hell for that scumbag later in the life of CDNR. But back to the proceedings...
He's Ralph Bass, and he came to get down.
As bland and mind-numbingly mediocre as this class was - The Byrds and John Lee Hooker being the cool but still not wow-these-are-awesome-moments exceptions - it was still easy to bounce a few suckas.
First up is Ralph Bass, a producer and talent scout who played as a sideman on the original version of R&B standard "Kansas City" and many other allegedly important songs.
But Bass gets bounced because you just can't have a guy in the Hall who looks like this. You just can't. Rob Bass has more right to be in there than Ralph Bass (pausing to make a note to self about a future Rob-Bass-should-be-in-the-Hall entry).
Next, we're pulling an unnecessary double-switch straight out of Tony La Russa's playbook, knocking Ike and Tina Turner out of the Hall and putting Tina right back in.
Ike is a wife beating scumbag, and if you say you really love the whole of their version of "Proud Mary" (meaning the beginning and not just the awesome second part) then you're lying. This sack of shit has shared credit with the amazing Tina Turner for too long.
Let's make things right and official right now: Tina Turner dominated as the frontwoman of a group that Ike Turner assembled and produced. When Tina showed more balls than Ike ever had and split, she went on to dominate as a solo artist, and he faded into oblivion. She rules, and he sucks.
She's in, and he's out. Amen.
Only thing missing is the pitcher hitting 8th.
LaVern Baker
Dave Bartholomew Ralph Bass Ike and Tina Turner
Neshui Ertegun
The Byrds
John Lee Hooker
The Impressions
Howlin' Wolf
Wilson Pickett
Jimmy Reed Tina Turner
When Peter Gabriel decided not to perform or even appear with his former Genesis bandmates upon their induction to the Rock Hall in 2010, it was a soul-crushing experience for fans of the prog-rock and later lite-rock legends.
But we got it. After helping to make some of the most incredible albums of the 1970s - if not the last 40 years - Phil Collins, Tony Banks and Mike Rutherford went on to slowly but surely soil upon Genesis' legacy not unlike skidmarks in tighty whiteys. Pistol Pete wasn't going to get up there with those limp dudes.
There could, however, be a moment of glory for Gabriel fans to revel in soon. Or, rather, there should be: Peter Gabriel should be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a solo artist.
It's been nine freaking years since he's been eligible, people. And it's not like it's never happened before: McCartney, Lennon and Harrison from the Beatles. Clapton from Cream. Neil Young from CSNY (barely counts but still).
And it should happen again here. Let's rundown the reasons why:
1) Obviously, his tenure as the frontman of Genesis. Strike that, his tenure as a groundbreaking frontman, one that dressed as a vegetable while selling England by the pound and laid down on Broadway while looking like some whacked out ghoul who spent way way too much time in the sun.
There's always been Ethel.
2) When he wisely split from Genesis in the mid-1970s - get out before things get lame - his stuff got better while Collins-Banks-Rutherford started their decent down Rock Mountain. Look, I dig pseudo proggish stuff like 1976's "Trick of the Tale," and I even like the cornball '80s stuff for what it is. "Invisible Touch" was one of my first tapes; I can recite every line. I saw them on the "We Can't Dance Tour" at the Vet. But "Illegal Alien"? "Follow You Follow Me"? Come on, man.
Gabriel, meanwhile, came out slugging with his a trio of great self-titled solo albums stuffed with all-time classic singles. Do I really have to list them? Thought not.
Rad video.
3) Early on Gabriel remained very weird and very artsy and appeased just about everyone from prog fans to FM radio listeners to those who dug underground rock. What really makes him Hall-worthy is his big-time (excuse the pun) commercial period in the '80s, when he slammed it out of the park with "Sledgehammer" and crafted a stone-cold slow jam classic in "In Your Eyes" that will be passed on forever thanks to "Say Anything," both of which are just two of the highlight reel that is the album "So." "Mercy Street," "Big Time," "Red Rain" ... wow.
1992's "Us."
4) The ridiculously underrated 1992 album "Us." With songs like "Digging In The Dirt," "Blood of Eden" and "Secret World," Gabriel recreated the scene from "Roadhouse" where Dalton yanks the heart out of the bad guy's chest, only he does it to himself.
Some might say this is just another issue of another guy who should or shouldn't get in, who cares either way.
But if Sting or some other crap-peddling puffball somehow gets in before Gabriel, the Hall should be imploded and forever forgotten.
Okay, so the title is not all that original, but I am not going to promise a religious experience here.
So my good friend says "Hey... I have this BLOG I'd like you to contribute to. Would you be interested?"
I reply with "Absolutely!", so he sends me the credentials, I check it out... and I promptly forget about it.
Actually, that's not fair. I didn't "forget" as in "what the hell are you talking about", I forgot as in "I am so swamped with non-fun ACTUAL work that I won't be able to rectify having fun writing something that might be a lightning rod for a lot of viewers." Now, the day before Thanksgiving, I find myself with a little time, so I thought, what better time to write an inaugural entry for Cleveland Does Not Rock?
That being said, here's what I have to say: There are some great members enshrined in The Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, but there are a lot of "I wouldn't have let you in even if you had a ticket" members that just boggle my mind.
Let's look at it this way... this place in Cleveland, Ohio is called The Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, right? So what are the key phrases there? Rock 'n' Roll and Hall of Fame. Since the second phrase is the easier of the two to explain, let's tackle that first.
To me, a "hall of fame" is a special place where luminaries in a specific (remember that word, kids... it comes up later) field are put on pedestals for the world to respect. It's a grouping of individuals who are commonly considered to be "the best" in that specific field... not just people who did it, but people who did it better than anyone else.
"Rock 'n' Roll" is a bit more complex, but we're going to skip over most of the history of this genre and just give it a quick definition to get on with the rest of the entry (I tend to run on at the mouth... or fingers... sometimes): "Rock 'n' Roll" is a genre of music that features at least one rhythm guitar, usually at least one bass (sometimes upright, mostly guitar), and at least one drummer.
Sure, there are examples with other percussion instruments (piano, tambourine), stringed instruments (violins, violas, or fiddles), harmonicas, and, in some cases, interesting choices such as bagpipes (seriously... check out AC/DC's "It's a Long Way to the Top (If you Wanna Rock 'n' Roll)"). The genre is defined with specific beats and rhythms, so musically, there is a big difference between "hard rock" and "heavy metal" or "folk rock" and "adult contemporary" or "KISS" and "Disco KISS."
Does Disco KISS still count as KISS?
I bring these terms up because when I look at the list of those housed in Cleveland, I wonder who was thinking what when James Brown was inducted. Don't get me wrong, I love me some James Brown, but allow me this trivia question for you: What is James Brown's pseudo-religious nickname? If you answered "The Godfather of SOUL", then you are correct. I see a distinct difference between soul music and rock 'n' roll.
Chuck Berry? Absolutely, positively rock 'n' roll. Elvis? 100% rock 'n' roll. B.B. King? Muddy Waters? John Lee Hooker? No way! They were legendary BLUES musicians! I can't think of a better way to spend a rainy Sunday than sitting down with a beer in my hand, B.B. wailing in the background... but that ain't rock 'n' roll, folks!
Michael Jackson was inducted in 2001. The King of POP. Parliament-FUNKadelic was inducted in 1997.
Bob Marley was inducted in 1994. Seriously? Reggae Jesus?
Miles F*cking Davis in 2006... can you get any more brilliant and JAZZY than Miles?
Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five in 2007.
Run-D.M.C. in 2009.
Christ... ABBA?! ABBA?!? in 2010!
Look... I have nothing against ABBA... truth-be-told, I actually like their music, but they are as much rock 'n' roll as I am a rock. They were the flag-bearers of disco, but they would never be associated with rock 'n' roll, would they?
A little bit of the ol' Ludwig van?
I am not opposed to another (or several other) hall of fame(s) opening that encompasses "popular music", but rock 'n' roll is specific! Just like we won't ever see Black Sabbath enshrined in The Rap Hall of Fame, why are Eric B. and Rakim going to Cleveland in 2012? Why not a posthumous induction for Ludwig van Beethoven because his 5th symphony was covered by many a talented rock guitarist?
So tell me... what argument is made for inducting James Taylor or Simon and Garfunkel?
I guess, as I listen to The Foo Fighters' "Stacked Actors" while typing this, I just don't get what the criteria is.
Whatever it is, someone needs to tighten it up... or at least rename the hall of fame to something a little less specific.
The Foo Fightersconsistently put out good-to-great rock and roll records. And they have since they debuted in 1995. They are future Rock Hall of Famers. That’s a fact. And it’s hard to make a case against it.
I saw them five times in my life. None of them were memorable. In fact, three of them are on my top five worst shows list. Why I continued to go to these awful shows was a dearth of reason and surplus of naivety. Every time after the first, I hoped the last was just a bad night for the band.
Each show – from my first in 2000 to my last in September – was the Dave Grohl Giant Ego Spectacular Showcase. You know, as opposed to a Foo Fighters concert, where a band called the Foo Fighters plays Foo Fighters songs.
At least half the show is Davey G yammering and yakking. Now, does he tell us a story behind a song or album? Does he say anything interesting about the band’s travels or innerworkings? No. It’s mostly back patting and pandering.
Foo fans just gotta Grohl and bear it, baby.
To paraphrase Mr. Grohl at a recent show: We’re not one of those bands that play for an hour and leaves (pauses for 10 seconds). We’re not one of those bands that play for an hour and half and leaves (pauses for 10 seconds). We’re not one of those bands that play for two hours and leaves (pauses for 10 seconds). We’re gonna play til you tell us to stop (pauses for 20 seconds)! Do you want us to stop? (soaks in the applause for a minute and a half).
Then, in nearly every song, the bridge is overextended by a 10-minute chord loop while he runs around the stage and catwalk. By the time the song kicks back into the final chorus, I’ve checked out. Simply don’t care anymore. All momentum is depleted.
Oh yeah, and then every song is capped with that a gratuitous big rock ending. You know, those annoying minute long one-chord drum-guitar builds where you start clapping then stop realizing they are playing it out more so they can hear you clap and yell longer.
That’s horseshit, man.
All that is beautifully captured in this 12-minute version of “Monkey Wrench”:
Gee Dave, a two-and-a-half hour show isn’t that hard to pull off when half the time you’re just taking a hyper-loquacious piss. It seems like he’s completely unaware that people came to listen to the songs they know and love – the songs (and songwriting) that made the Foo Fighters famous and respected in the first place.
And it’s a shame, because as I said earlier, Foo Fighters records are still good. Old ones stand the test of time. And the new ones definitely are better than their contemporary pop star peers.
Yes, the Foo Fighters deserve a Rock Hall induction. Dave will probably get two. And that’s deserved, too, for everything he does off the stage.
I just needed to get that out. To me, people who come back from a Foo Fighters show saying it was the best show they’ve ever been to are speaking wishfully and obtusely.
Just because they are playing rock and roll doesn’t make it a rock and roll show.
So I’ll leave you with this – a no-frills performance of a B-side/deep cut from their first record played without ego, without tongue in cheek, without an over-long ending.
David Crosby is in the Rock Hall. Twice. As a Byrd, and as a member of CSNY.
Ted Nugent is not in the Rock Hall. Given voters' penchant to induct everyone from the Classic Rock era, we find this surprising. But surprising in a good way.
Nuge' has the album sales, and the ticket sales, and he can play a mean guitar.
But the fact that his music is the equivalent of raccoon flatulence, and because of his nutty gun crap, and that rock band show he was on with the Skid Row dude and Jon Bonham's son, all adds up to no Rock Hall for Ted.
He did, however, sport a sick mustache during the pinnacle of his career.
So we here at CDNR say that if Nuge' can beat Crosby in a Mustache-Off, he's in. Let's get to it:
Peak 'stache:
Crosby's appears to be dirtier than Nugent's, and given that Dave was known to ingest substances and possibly lie dormant for days, it probably was. But Nuge' was (is?) known to get around, so who knows what kind of fungi lurks beneath them hairs. Slight edge: Nugent.
Animal equivalent:
Not sure I really want/need to say anything here. Edge:Crosby.
Sans 'stache: Nugent is better known without the lip fuzz, whether it's ripped Stadium Ted or Old D-Bag Flavor Saver Ted. Somehow Crosby looks 5 million times better without the 'stache during his early Byrds era. Which begs the question, why didn't he just go without that ugly ass thing? Big edge:Crosby.
Other uses:
At any given moment, Crosby's mustache could be turned into a human blowtorch. You can make a whole face out of Ted's, with the mustache as the hair.
Edge:Nugent
Old man 'stache:
Crosby's is still fuzzy after all these years. Ted makes no attempt to recapture his "Cat Scratch Fever"-era glory.
In fact, I'm a huge fan of the portion of the career that would probably keep them out of the Rock Hall than get them in: The Cornball Hard Rock/ Cheese Pop '80s Heart. Ann and Nancy Wilson and their cast of goons have been trotting live performances of the alleged classic "Dreamboat Annie" around the country when they should have been scorching the earth with their self-titled 1985 nuclear bomb.
"Alone." "Never." "What About Love?" "Nothin' At All." Even freaking "These Dreams" - complete with a video where Nancy rocks out on guitar even though there are zero guitars in the soft-as-a-marshmallow hit.
I realize Hall voters will want to acknowledge their spot as early women in hard rock, and if they get in before or with Joan Jett, I won't light my head on fire like I might if, say, the Beastie Boys get in.
Still, I think voters and the world should take into evidence the fact that Heart has some of the all-time worst album covers, the kind that could place amongst the worst with this and this and this.
Here are six of Heart's stinkbomb covers:
6. "Dog & Butterfly," 1978. I wanted to go with five to be traditional, but I also felt like at least one of Heart's drawn album covers needed to be represented. It easily could have been 1987's "Bad Animals" (which should have been called "Bad Artwork"). But this is the real steaming pile of turd. The idea meeting for the album cover concept must have included the following genius ideas: "Let's put a dog and a butterfly on the cover," and "let's get a 3 year old to draw it," and "let's get a 1 year old to scribble lines all over it," and "let's go doo-doo on the floor."
5. "Dreamboat Annie," 1976. Yes, even this amazing, flawless, influential, all-time classic (whatever) has yet another weird sister image going on that Heart became known for. Why do they appear do be naked? Why does Ann have this look of lust on her face? To quote Harry Mayes from 97.5 The Fan: "What is goin' on back there?"
4. "Heart," 1985. Even in the 1980s, people had to realize they were sporting some pretty far out fashions. Mullets. Copious amounts of hairspray. Jackets that resembled lab coats. Colors that should never go together. Yet Heart flaunted this soon-to-be-dated look on the COVER OF THEIR ALBUM. The guy on the far right looks like Adam Ant on steroids. Come on, man!
3. "Little Queen," 1977. When Marsellus Wallace told Butch that he was "going to get medieval" on a rapist cop's ass, he meant somewhere near the opposite of this. I don't know if the any of the guys in the background were in Heart at the time, but if they were they should probably go ahead and turn themselves into walking Ken dolls right about now.
2. "Desire Walks On," 1993. From the beginning of the let's-not-admit-that-they're-getting-older period. Why is half of Ann's face cut off? Why is Nancy covering one of her eyes with a rose? Why not just have the top of their heads on the cover? Why not just cover them with picnic table covers and batting helmets and call it a day?
1. "Private Audition," 1982. The album title alone could keep Heart out of the Rock Hall; it sounds like some kind of movie you tried to watch through squiggly lines on Skinemax when you were 13 (and by "you" I mean "me"). But what about the photos? What about the dude peering through the blinds? What about the lit cigar that threatens to burn the whole place down? What about the fact that the tracklist includes titles like "City's Burnin'," "Hey Darlin' Darlin'" and "Fast Times"? Without hearing a note I know I would have to be paid a lot of money to sit through this record. In fact, I'm getting sick just looking at it.
Despite being one of the most innovative and consistent performers for almost three decades, it took the Rock Hall brain trust 10 years to induct David Bowie.
And when they finally did it, he had to go in with overbloated, overrated old-farts Pink Floyd, the important-but-not-that-important Velvet Underground and freaking Jefferson Airplane, which bookended its career by starting off using drugs to make their only good music and finishing it off with the insipid (but enjoyable in an evil-clown-kind-of-way) vehicle Jefferson Starship, which was shortened to Starship (see below right), and then Star, and then S.
Maybe the Hall voters kept Bowie out for so long for the very reason he's a Rock Hall Hero to us: He had the gnads to criticize the joint and the process, saying music shouldn't be treated as some kind of Olympic event.
"I think it's very nice, I don't give it much thought actually," he told Rueters some time before voters finally let him in.
"I don't really think I feel anything much. I just am very anti-institution, of any nature. I don't know ... Frankly, I don't know what it means," he told MTV.
Byrne probably wanted to burn down the house.
Why we really love the Artist Formerly Known As Ziggy Stardust? When the voters offered the proverbial olive branch and enshrined him in January 1996, Bowie flipped the finger and didn't show, leaving mega-douche David Byrne to induct him and hand his trophy over to ... Madonna. Hahahaha.
She opened her pinch-hit acceptance speech with this: "Excuse me David Byrne, but it’s also how totally f*cking gorgeous David Bowie is. Thank you. This is a beautiful man."
Yipes.
Yeah, you wanna mess with David Bowie, Rock Hall? Let's Dance, futhermuckers.
What I like about 2012’s list of nominees are the bands I hate: Guns ‘n’ Roses and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
By hate, I mean once loved these bands. Man, I loved them. They were once everything rock and roll embodied. Completely rad and kick ass. I didn’t stop liking them because I became an ironic self-congratulatory hipster who liked them, then disliked them in favor of some Williamsburg suck squad making hip-pop when theramins and beards, only to restart liking them because retro is cool again again. Ha. Ha.
I stopped liking them because I’ve exhausted myself trying to find just one thing in their post-1993 catalogues that bears a semblance to rock and roll.
If both bands would have stopped in 1993, there is no question both of them would be locks.
But. They. Need. To. Stop. Making. Music.
Now. The more new music they make now, the more disqualified they become as nominees.
Sure, you could say the same about most nominees in any given class. I counter that by saying they are just indulging themselves because they know they aren’t going platinum again.
Here’s the difference. While GnR and RCHP sharted on record several times since 1993, Joan Jett released seven compilation albums in that span – the first of which came in 1993.
You could call that a lazy way to get paid. But if I’m a Rock Hall voter, I’d consider it an acknowledgement and constant reminder of what we love about rock and roll.
Despite its endless flaws, unbelievable ignorance and moronic choices, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has at times done the impossible. In 2002, it reunited The Talking Heads. In 1993, it brought about the temporary reformation of eternal prick Eric Clapton and his overrated but still-Hall worthy band Cream.
But that same year, it could not bring about the reunion of Creedence Clearwater Revival, despite the fact that John Fogerty went out of his way to appear at the podium with his former bandmates, Doug Clifford and Stu Cook (cue the most sarcastic golf clap one can muster).
Apparently Fogerty was still pissed about plagiarizing himself, or maybe he was pissed that he had barely made any good music for two-plus decades. Or maybe he could even see the future and the ridiculous vaudeville-circus-like Credence Clearwater Revisited act that Cook and Clifford would take on the road to play for dozens of people at a time.
Whatever the reason, all three surviving members (Tom Fogerty died in 1990) were standing right there on Jan. 12, 1993. All they had to do was walk over to the stage, pick up their instruments, and start playing "dude dude dude lookin' out my back door."
Instead, they fumbled at their acceptance speeches, Clifford going first because no one else would, Cook looking dopey going last and reminding us why Fogerty might have booted him along with Clifford, all while Fogerty bounced around in the background uncomfortably. He took the mic second and backhandedly thanked his fellow bandmates.
In a word, it was awkberg.
"We've disagreed a lot over the years but there was a time when we made really great music together, and I think that's actually the whole reason, the real deal why we're all here at all. So thank you guys ..."
Crickets followed "guys" where there should have been thunderous applause.
Then Fogerty went and played "Green River," "Who'll Stop The Rain" and "Born on the Bayou" with a group of hired hands that included Bruce Springsteen and Robbie Robertson, the latter of which would hilariously copy Fogerty's act of pettiness by not performing with The Band when they went in the next year.
John Freaking Fogerty. What else can you say about a guy who screwed his fans on his 1985 and 1986 tours by refusing to play CCR songs because of his war with his old record label?
Enjoy this crappy rendition of "Green River" at the 1993 induction.
Try as your smiling eyes might, nothing can convince me that you belong in the Hall.
Let's start with the two most important criteria:
Is Bobby Darin rock? No.
Is Bobby Darin roll? No.
The beginning of his career was spent in the Brill Building, banging out safe, teen-approved songs. Going solo produced more of the same: poppy, tuneful ditties that were, quite literally, scrubbed of the grit that his contemporaries — such as renowned creepster and true rock pioneer Chuck Berry, hipster-template and belt-it-out god Buddy Holly, and boozers The Champs of "Tequila" fame — left on. Click for Exhibit A.
Darin followed "Splish Splash" with the truly great blockbuster song "Dream Lover," which gave millions of girlfans hope that perhaps the idol spent his nights at home hugging his pillow and staring wistfully out the window, too. It also inspired, by my unofficial count, one custard-marshmallow cream-chocolate sauce-and-pecan sundae at a Midwestern scoop shop.
And then, inevitably, given his silky voice and charming good looks, Darin devolved into a lounge act, recording standards such as "Mack the Knife" and shuffleboard-and-nightly buffet aficionado favorite "Beyond the Sea."
Clearly, Darin was swingin' with the best of 'em in the early '60s. But, crucially, he WAS NOT ROCKING. Perhaps the most rock and roll thing Darin ever did was mentor The Byrds' founder Roger McGuinn. And do lines off of lido girls with Sammy Davis, Jr. (unverified, but completely possible). Seriously, Paul freakin' Anka inducted him into the Hall. That alone is enough to rest my case.
Hank Ballard Bobby Darin (Chesty McGee)
The Four Seasons
Four Tops
The Kinks
The Platters
Simon and Garfunkel
... when Green Day becomes eligible for the Rock Hall.
Because your faux-punk loving friends can make all of the arguments they want about "Dookie" this and "American Idiot" that, but the fact of the matter remains: These guys blatantly ripped off The Kinks. This could be one of the worst rips ever.
(HOLY CRAP: Wait until the Green Day one hits between two and three seconds, then start The Kinks.)
Green Day's "Warning," from the 2006 album of the same name:
The Kinks' "Picture Book," from the 1968 album "TheKinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society":
