Tossing stones at rock's hall of fame

Tossing stones at rock's hall of fame

By George Lang
The Oklahoman

Something is wrong with the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Never mind the well-trotted notion that nothing rock 'n' roll could possibly happen in tuxedos at the Waldorf-Astoria, but the Jann Wenner-dominated enterprise seems to have run off the rails.

A few years ago, the hall got Talking Heads to play together onstage, and given the frosty relationship between David Byrne and the rest of the band, that's the kind of reunion that seems harder to negotiate than most arms treaties.

But at Monday's induction ceremony, during which Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, R.E.M., The Ronettes and Patti Smith were inducted, among others, organizers could not even get most former members of inductee Van Halen to attend, and this was a band that actually toured together three years ago. Sure, they got Sammy Hagar and Michael Anthony to show up, but with the right amount of tequila and snacks, so could I.

But then the hall posted a list on its Web site that drew the wrath and snark of music bloggers throughout cyberspace and left many people wanting to throw stones at the hall's I.M. Pei-designed glasshouse. The "Definite 200” was not actually a product of the Rock Hall: It was created by the National Association of Recording Merchandisers (NARM) to celebrate "some of history's most influential (sic) and popular albums,” and the Rock Hall simply posted a copy "to recognize this varied collection.”

The Top 10 were fairly standard-issue choices, topped by The Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band” and followed by discs from Pink Floyd, Michael Jackson, Led Zeppelin, U2, The Rolling Stones, Carole King, Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys and Nirvana. But then it devolved into some bizarre assertions of quality and importance. What follows are the five most puzzling entries in NARM's list.

13. Santana, "Supernatural.” Granted, you cannot throw a rock without hitting someone who owns it, but "Supernatural” is a monument to soulless synergy, a cold collection of guest performers that cohered about as well as a "Now! That's What I Call Music” compilation. Carlos Santana's masterpiece, 1970's "Abraxas,” is nowhere to be found on the list, but "Supernatural” rides high, an album that was, to paraphrase Jon Stewart, collateral damage from the Latin music explosion of the late '90s.

74. Phil Collins, "No Jacket Required.” Quite possibly the most uncool record of the mid '80s that wasn't made by Huey Lewis, "No Jacket Required” produced scads of hits but cemented Collins' growing reputation as Kraft's chief competition in the cheese market.

95. Creed, "Human Clay.” Imagine what it would sound like if Rich Little performed Pearl Jam's "Ten” in its entirety. Now, lower your expectations.

107. Kenny G., "Breathless.” G's tranquilizing woodwind wheeze might have been the late '80s-early '90s preferred accompaniment for dental drills, but this was not even the one with the hits. If only the title were true.

154. Will Smith, "Big Willie Style.” Let's be clear: This souvenir for "Men in Black” viewers beat Public Enemy's "It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back” by two rankings. Don't believe the hype.

Of course, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame did not generate the list, but it championed the thing. Something has to change with the hall's system of values. If it continues in this direction, the once-hallowed hall will be inducting Fergie and Chingy in 25 years.

• I have seen the future of rock 'n' roll, and its name is Bonde Do Role. This Diplo-produced "funk carioca” trio from Brazil takes the freak-dance tendencies of CSS and gets freakier with them.