Battle of the Mustaches: Crosby vs. The Nuge'

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.

Game, set and match: Crosby.


Sorry Ted, you still can't come in.

The Heart of the matter

Never run away. Never.

Look, I've got nothing against Heart.

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.

Heroes of the Hall: David Bowie

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.

The Case Against GnR and RCHP

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.

"Great" moments in Rock and Roll Hall of Fame History: 1993

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.

Kickin' Em Out: 1990

You're right, Bobby. It's not me. It's you.

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

Keep this handy until 2014 ...

... 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 "The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society":