Hmmm…the last time I wrote about the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was back in 2010, when good ‘ole Tom Waits was on the list of potential inductees. I’m not sure how I missed an entire year. Actually, I do know what happened. I drained my argument tank yucking it up about how I didn’t think Guns ‘n Roses needed to be in the hall. Yeah, that won me a lot of fans. Where’s Slash? I don’t fucking care.
This year we have a fairly interesting list that includes the likes of Deep Purple, Heart, and Rush. We also have a new fan poll, which allows folks to vote for their top five, the results of which will be entered as a single ballot to be counted along with the other 600 or so official ballots. For the record, I voted for Deep Purple, Heart, The Meters, Public Enemy, and Rush. Yes, I am already fantasizing about that Fight The Power/Roll The Bones mashup at the awards ceremony.
So a couple of years ago, I kind ignored the finer points of the awards and the associated (and supposed) artistic merit, to advance my idea of “musical relativity.” You can take that to mean that I have a tough time thinking of music in terms of ratings, as I see all of this as being 100% subjective.
This year? Let’s forget about all of that and talk about the actually hall for a bit. This is the part of the hall of fame concept that I can get behind. I truly like the idea that there’s a place that collects and displays the chunks of physical rock history. Sure, rock and roll really hasn’t been around all that long in the scheme of things but so much outlandish stuff has gone on that we really need a place to preserve the collective memory. Call me crazy, but it just gives me a warm feeling to know that, under one roof, I can stop in and see: Abba’s lip gloss, B.B. King’s Lucille, Steely Dan’s vibrator collection, Fleetwood Mac’s coke spoons, David Crosby’s liver (kept in a jar), Jack Bruce’s ego (also kept in a jar), Axl Rose’s hair extensions, and Prince’s assless pants.
Me and TheWife™ are planning on a cross-country drive vacation in a few years. If all goes well, in addition our stops at the Field of Dreams and the World’s Biggest Ball of Twine, we’ll be able to make a pit stop in Cleveland to see Neil Peart’s well-thumbed copy of Atlas Shrugged, Robert Smith’s mascara and hair jell, and maybe even a Kiss Kasket. A fella can dream, can’t he?
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