Halls of Fame — music and sports— have become multi-purpose institutions, But are marketing demands and sales figures lowering the induction bar too far?
Mea cupla. I was all set to answer a resounding “Yes” to the question. At closer look, they have done a pretty good job — with a few major exceptions. For our purposes, we’ll stick to the Rock and Baseball Halls since those tend to get the most general attention.
In general, Halls of Fame are fraught ventures. While selecting the early pioneers is pretty easy, maintaining a consistently high standard is a real challenge. Not every worthy entry can be of historic import. But remaining relevant to later generations of fans is essential to keep the turnstiles moving. It’s a puzzlement.
Let’s look at some specific issues (we’ll name names later):
*How many is too many? Setting aside laudable special categories (executives, media, producers, etc.), it’s not unusual to see 8-10 inductees in some years. These is generally too darn many. Of course, some of these represent making up for lost time, i.e. worthy candidates passed over earlier. Others are more problematic.
*Who deserves entry? As time passes, the waters get muddier. The Founding Fathers always get the most attention, but what about those following in their hard-to-fill footsteps? Innovation (and great talent) never ends. There will always be excellent candidates deserving enshrinement but, to quote Judge Smails, “some people just don’t belong.”
*How to set (and maintain) standards? Baseball generally measures performance through statistics, so we’ll set their Hall aside and focus on music. Using sales as a criteria is the proverbial slippery slope. Can we say that those selling the most are the best? For the most part, this is a pretty lame standard. As the definition of “rock” has broadened a great deal over the decades, the audiences have divided to point that sales are ever watered down. Further. “most famous” is often defined by celebrity status, media appearances, social media coverage and, well, looks. What ever to do?
*They won’t come if you don’t build it. We’re talking about fields more than 100 years old here. Halls of Fame love to talk about their mission to honor heritage and history. They’re absolutely right. But some (many?) fans aren’t generally motivated to visit a museum filled with, well, museum pieces. “I’ve never heard of these guys,” is not what the marketing folks want to hear. Keeping things up-to-date is critical to attendance, not to mention cultural relevance. Doing too much of this, however, is just plain ol’ pandering.
Now, the fun part. Given all the above, who just doesn’t belong? Arguments and counter-arguments are part of any decision-making process. Up until about 2002, the choices are fairly clear and correct. But then things get a bit murky. These are my trespassers, in chronological order, Rock Hall first:
2000:
Billie Holliday: OK, Miles Davis’s induction I totally get. But this is the “Rock” hall of fame, right? Of course, the brilliant Lady Day is one of the greatest singers ever, but so are Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett. The Hall has done an excellent job honoring dozens of key influencers, but I’m just not sure how Holliday fits this category.
2004:
George Harrison: Let’s try to set aside the Beatle-love for a minute. Yes, he was part of the greatest band in music history, but there some issues here. Generally, it seems unfair to induct any individual members of famed groups who are already in the Hall (see Stevie Nicks below). Unlike an artist that earns their own success, solo work largely builds off already existing fandom. A solo career is, to borrow a phrase, a case of standing on the shoulders of giants. Harrison’s solo work largely consists of one truly great album. The rest contained a few hits (although I’d be happy to never hear “Got My Mind Set On You” again), but were fairly average. Harrison does deserve humanitarian points for his “Concert for Bangladesh” work, but the Hall has a separate category for that.
And if we’re only looking a solo careers here, why Beatle George and not, say, Pete Townshend? David Byrne? Sting? I realize McCartney and Lennon are in there. But Lennon truly reimagined his previous work in his solo albums. And McCartney is, well, McCartney — whose solo sucess is hard to deny, evenon this slippery slope. Musically, solo George just isn’t all that great. Love to you, but not Hall-worthy.
2005:
Percy Sledge: Sorry, one beloved standard does not a great career make.
2008:
The Dave Clark Five: Apart from the obvious giants, most of the famed British Invasion bands weren’t exactly groundbreakers. A handful of catchy hits and not much else.
2015:
Ringo Starr: See “Harrison, George” above. Not his fault, but he’s already in with that other group. His veritable mountain of solo albums does not contain many really good ones.
Joan Jett & the Blackhearts: One of the most egregious choices to date. OK, Jett deserves some credit for her Runaways days, but “I Love Rock ‘n Roll” and her handful of other hits kinda define ordinary. Just don’t get this one.
2017
Journey: Journey? How does a band without a trace of originality merit induction? I’m not one of those overwrought Journey haters by a long stretch, but the Hall of Fame? No way.
2018
Bon Jovi: Do good looks and marrying hot women count this much? Personally, I’ll always be grateful for the great “Living on a Prayer,” but jeez.
2019
Stevie Nicks: Apart from the fact that she’s already in, Nicks was probably the third-best talent in Fleetwood Mac (after Buckingham and McVie). Great Mac songs like “Rhiannon" and “Gold Dust Woman” don’t count in a solo assessment. On her own, Nicks’ albums are largely a mess, and her solo hits are mostly grating homilies. She’s more a cult persona to her avid fan base. Not a Hall-of-Famer by any stretch.
2021:
Foo Fighters: Huh? Lousy songwriting, boring playing and mediocre vocals merit induction here? Besides, Dave Grohl’s already in with Nirvana. At the risk of character defamation, does anyone not see that Grohl has had extensive plastic surgery? OK, so did Elvis, but he didn’t have the ghost of Kurt Cobain to answer to. And have you seen any rock history documentary that doesn’t include Grohl’s handsome mug along with the likes of Springsteen, Bono and McCartney? What’s he even doing there? Being a nice, articulate guy does not a legend make.
Randy Rhoads: OK, I’m as sad about Rhoads premature death as the next guy. But this exercise compels me to note that his legendary status is partly based on his weird, tragic death in early 1982 (a joy ride on a small plane that crashed while buzzing the band’s tour bus). This is not to say his guitar playing on Ozzy’s biggest two albums is anything less than spectacular. He might very well have had a Hall of Fame career…if he had lived. If saying that makes me a bad guy, so be it.
2022
Pat Benatar & Neil Giraldo: Aargh! It’s not bad enough to induct the elfin leotarded video queen — her guitar-playing husband gets in too? Giraldo is a fine studio guitarist and a fair enough lickmeister, but no way does that merit the Hall of Fame. As for her…inducing otherwise sensible young women to dress like her videos is almost as bad as her crappy songs. Go ahead, hit me with your best shot because dissing on Pat B. is a battlefield and I’m a real heartbreaker.
Judas Priest: Sure, the legendary Deep Purple belongs in the Hall, but someone should have closed the door before these wannabes snuck in. One memorable album (“British Steel”) does not overcome a lot of thrashing, mediocre, unintelligible crumminess (sp?). OK, they do get credit for standing up to a bunch of self-righteous censors who tried to blame a tragic suicide on their song lyrics. Well done. And I guess they’re big in their home country, but so are The Stranglers. Blimey.
Lionel Richie: So he’s in, but The Commodores aren’t? The guy made far and away his best music with that band, not the dumb Adult Contemporary crooning that made for big 1980s hits. And he’s docked extra points for co-writing the dreadfully stupid (and thematically inappropriate) “We Are the World.”
2023:
Sheryl Crow: Another artist whose fame relies too much on her videos. She’s a good singer and all, but the music and the rest are pretty average.
2024:
The Dave Matthews Band: I’ll admit up front, I really, really hate the Dave Matthews Band. I couldn’t even laugh at those SNL skits that made fun of him. Setting that aside, why these guys and not the far superior Phish? OK, they’re capable of attracting tens of thousands to their concerts. So are any number of jam bands. And I think we can say DMB fans are not entirely there for the music which, when heard in a studio context, is just not really good.
Peter Frampton: As a high school senior in 1976, I know how enormously mondo huge “Frampton Comes Alive” was in those days. But it was a live album, not an original work of new material. Sure, it yielded a few huge radio hits (and the painfully long “Do You Feel Like I Do”). And the utterly nonsensical “Sgt. Pepper” movie wasn’t really his fault (one can blame Hall of Fame guru Robert Stigwood for that). A very fine guitarist — Frampton just hasn’t done much else to merit Hall worthiness.
AND WHAT ABOUT THESE GUYS?
Boz Scaggs: He’s not in? Huh? Possibly the greatest R&B singer of them all is still waiting? Era-defining hits. Great albums by the fistful. A major influence on a couple generations of fairly lame wanna-bes — hardly his fault. He even let the Hall’s self-appointed gatekeeper Jann Wenner produce his debut album, A travesty, this.
Warren Zevon: Who did this genius so offend that he can’t get in? Easily the best songwriter not enshrined as well as the funniest — which should count for something. Is this an anti-SoCal thing from a bunch of snotty New Yorkers? What gives?
New Order: So Depeche Mode is Hall-worthy but the vastly more influentail New Order (and their Joy Division predecessors) aren’t? These guys write better, more varied, songs and play better, especially bassist/songwriter Peter Hook. And even bad dancers can find themselves hitting the floor with their melodies and insistent beat. Finally, the band’s original founder Ian Curtis who, tragically, committed suicide after only two albums, set a standard for powerful heaviness long before it swept the alternative universe.
Gram Parsons: Parsons enormous influence has become a bit of a cliche among rock critics, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. He taught a whole bunch of late ‘60s and early ‘70s bands — The Byrds, The Rolling Stones and Eagles come to mind — not to fear country music. And that’s not to mention his founding role in The Flying Burrito Brothers and his sublime solo work. He called it “Cosmic American Music.” Like too many, Parsons had a drug demon and died far too young. His tombstone reportedly reads “God’s Own Singer.” Can’t speak for the Almighty, but his work is clearly induction-worthy.
King Crimson: Not only did these guys practically invent “Progressive” rock, they survived through more musical configurations and styles than the rest, largely thanks to the cracked genius of leader Robert Fripp. Sure, a lot of their music is less-than-easy listening, but imagination and artistic growth should sometimes override commercial concerns.
Harry Nilsson: Even the Beatles loved this guy’s music. OK, they also liked those dreadful early Apple acts, but that’s beside the point. Amazing singer. exceptional, oft-covered songwriter, brilliant musical interpreter. An absurd omission.
Jim Croce: Sadly, the Rock Hall is full of artists taken long before their time. It’s not really possible to predict a career based on a small-ish sample. But Croce’s death in a plane crash at 30 cut down an exemplary singer/songwriter just starting to hit his peak. His five albums are filled with classic songs loved to this day — fifty years after his death. It’s not nearly enough for his fans, but it should be enough for Hall voters.
Jethro Tull: Has the dubious distinction of being the best rock band not in the Hall. Sure, Ian Anderson wrote and sang most of the songs, but this was a whole group way ahead of its time in bringing blues influences to pioneering progressive, yet highly melodic, music. They should be in for “Aqualung” alone.
The Smiths: Must admit to not being a huge fan of this band, but they rank with the most popular groups in the world during the ‘80s, which should count for something. Sure, Morrissey can be annoying, but guitarist Johnny Marr has cast a wide influence and the high caliber of their output is more than worthy of induction. If Duran Duran merits the Hall, the Smiths certainly do.
Fairport Convention: If longtime influence counts, this pioneering British folk-rock band deserves admission. Not well-known outside their home country, Fairport brought native folk music to the fore in a similar way that early Dylan did in the U.S. Plus, they launched the career of Richard Thompson (see below).
Richard Thompson: If the Hall can’t bring themselves to induct Fairport, this brilliant guitarist and songwriter is more than deserving. Thompson has been cranking out strong albums for about five decades with a rare consistency. Guitar fans might just faint when they hear his playing, which compares with Hendrix and Clapton — and he’s a better singer and songwriter than either.