Kickin' em out: 1995

This was a tough one. Who do you kick out of a class that includes Led Zep, Joplin, Neil Young, Zappa, Martha Reeves and the Vandellas, the Allman Brothers Band and Al Green?

This is an impenetrable block on VH1 Classic's "Rockfest." It's one-quarter of a juke box at the Charcoal Pit.

But when you get past the names, and think about the actual music, the decision becomes easy.

I don’t get the Allman Brothers Band. Never have, never will. They possess exactly zero songs that I would leave on if they came on the radio. 

Many have called them the most influential band of the early 1970s. I can’t agree more: This means the Allman Brothers are responsible for loads and loads of steaming sonic bullshit, 8-minute wankfests boasting solos that wander aimlessly, big mustaches, bigger beards, countless babies conceived in the back of huge gas-guzzlers mere seconds after their parents-to-be polished off another doobie and the rise of 7-11. I can’t explain the last one but it’s a fact.

East Stroudsburg's finest.

Look, I’m not a fan, so I don’t know all the albums. But if you’re a nut for the Allman Brothers, and you’re raging mad because of what I’m about to do, then you should be able to list their classic tunes one after the other and impress me into thinking I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do.

But…

     -- "Melissa” holds a special place in my heart because it was a mainstay on the juke at Rudy’s, the finest bar in the Poconos, but outside of those incredibly friendly confines, that song is more mediocre than the Montreal Expos' Tim Wallach.

-         -- I swear to the rock gods, I never knew that knife-to-the-skull-annoying song that plays over all of the hippie crap and terrible retro 70s TV movies was called “Jessica.” I didn’t even know it had words, I thought it was just a 12-minute instrumental featuring that riff and piano run over and over and over again.

-- “Midnight Rider” is not a tough, gritty rock gem.

-- “Whipping Post” is not a bluesy tour-de-force.
-- “Ramblin’ Man” is not a timeless classic.

Allman Brothers with no Allmans? Major violation.

What makes these songs so amazing? What separates these guys from the cornball cover band at the corner bar? Why are there 15 people in the band at different times? Why does the current lineup, and the one that's been around for the last decade or so, have neither Allman Brother and is instead run by Dickey Betts? 

If you want to argue that the Allmans have a lot of decent songs, I’ll just agree with you to end the argument. If you want to say they’re the equivalent of a one-time NBA all-star, but not an upper-echelon great, superstar or perennial all-star, then fine.

Look, I'm sorry Duane Allman died in a motorcycle accident. I respect their longevity, I guess. But they are not worthy of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Certainly not with the 1995 class. 

21 members. 44 years. 18 albums. Hey Allman Bros. - Cleveland Does Not Rock bucket go BOOM.

 

Whitney Houston should be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

If Janis Joplin is in, then Whitney Houston should be in.

If Patti Smith is in, then Whitney Houston should be in.

If Madonna is in, then Whitney Houston should be in.

All three were/are supremely talented.

Joplin had her raspy, otherworldly booze-and-smokes laced voice and incredible stage presence. Smith wrote poetic lyrics that blew her fans' minds for some reason I can't understand. Madonna was an above-average singer who could dance and put on an amazing show, as well as David Bowie’s female counterpart as the all-time best pop star chameleon.

Only Madonna could match Houston in the great tunes category, and in the voice department Whitney blows all three away.

Look, there’s a lot of hyperbole going on right now in the wake of Houston’s death - "best female singer ever," "best pop star of the ’80s," "one of the greatest artists of all time."

Big Shot Bob had the magic.

Let’s give credit where credit is due without going overboard: Whitney Houston is one of the greatest female singers and pop stars of the last 30 years.

And during her peak years, she dominated pop but had this weird dash of Robert Horry magic, always in the right place at the right time to bury the killer shot and win it all.

Filling a void in pop radio in the middle part of the decade. Slamming it out of the park at the 1988 Olympics. Rocking that “Bodyguard” tune and somehow selling us on the idea that Costner could even come close to landing a date with her. Lending "The Greatest Love of All" to the Dr. J highlight reel on that unreal NBA Superstars video.

It’s criminal that it takes her dying to make her induction so obvious and urgent. And since the Hall is apparently now in the mood to right some wrongs, it shouldn’t be too long before this happens.

In the meantime, here's CDNR's dark horse all-time favorite Whitney tune: