The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: Looking Grift Whores in the Mouth

by Brent Sanders (who also wrote the headline)

We should’ve known when they chose Cleveland. 

No offense to the good folks there, but Memphis is where Rock and Roll was born, goddammit.

Chicago? Sure. New Orleans? Yeah. Detroit? Maybe the best Rock and Roll city of ‘em all. 

But Cleveland offered up a ton of money, and the early RRHoF board members, mostly suits, understand money. 

The Hall was not built in a town where great music was forged. It does not, contrary to Ian Hunter’s exhortations, rock. No, but that was where a sleazy airwave pimp named Alan Freed gave it a brand name, and marketing, not groove or angst or poetry, is the language these guys understood.

So the money was took and run with, and it’s been dicey since. Like McDonald's, who cared not two shits about the processed burgers they tossed off their assembly line but believed deeply in the sanctity of their franchisee-driven bottom line, the RRHoF was founded on the aesthetics of commerce.

Once we get that, it’s easier to deal. Popular music has always been that, and we know it. 

But what made rock and roll different, in effect if not intent, was it was ours. It forged a bond with the listener in a way that no other music before or since was able to do. It may have started as a commodity, but it became a stance, a force, an identity. It was a home for the true believer. Every transcendence the church promised, rock music delivered. 

Once we accept that the RRHoF is, if not a false prophet, then certainly a clueless one, we can rest easy and ignore it. 

Now the Hall museum itself is impressive, and anyone with a chance should see it. The curators do a wonderful job of, uh, curating, and the history and culture of the music is displayed in captivating fashion. 

Cleveland citizens get in for free; hardly enough to make up for the shit show that is the Cleveland Browns, but cool enough. 

The institution is far more problematic, partly due to the selection process, rightfully under fire in the last few years. This process is kept under wraps worthy of a Masonic Goat Sacrifice and apparently involves Dave Marsh barking about ? and the Mysterians while caressing Jann Wenner’s tiny balls.

Just kidding, of course; Jann Wenner has no balls, and Dave Marsh only has fondle-fingers for Bruce Springsteen. 

The 2026 Inductees were announced last week, and I was pleased to see Oasis, New Order, Wu Tang Clan, and Iron Maiden get the nod, although all are years overdue, and no one elected was truly undeserving, unlike more than a few in the years past. Hell, maybe it’ll give me pause to re-assess Billy Idol. 

Iron Maiden’s body of work has set the genre standard for years, and the Hall, which now does seem to be righting some wrongs regarding metal and Prog, finally said “come on in”.

They will not be at the induction ceremony, though, as they will be playing shows in Australia and issued a statement that they would not let those fans down. 

They meant that shit. 

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the induction committee, is why they belong in your silly little Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

And y’all never will.