Live Oak Blues What happens.

I gave the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame the benefit of the doubt until 2008: the year they inducted Madonna. I’d been to the (rather stunning) museum in Cleveland and still, as much as I am embarrassed to admit it, held out hope. But then they let her in–before Tom Waits or The Stooges or Dr. John or KISS or The New York Dolls or a hundred others who were actual rock and roll musicians.

Certainly going after the RRHOF is easy pickings, and there is no shortage of critiques of the institution. Most of these involve some variation on the “Jann Wenner Sucks” motif, and to be sure, Wenner is a legitimately loathsome individual who chooses inductees like he chooses Rolling Stone magazine covers. The other argument–that something as raw as rock and roll should never be institutionalized–doesn’t carry much weight with me. We’ve been ranking our favorite artists since the beginning of music, and if done right, an institution like this could be a valuable tool for defining our musical culture.

No, what bothers me about the RRHOF is that they don’t seem to have anyone on the “committee” that actually knows anything about rock and roll. The list of inductees reads like the playlist at a classic rock radio station, and a boring one at that. Punk is woefully under-represented, hip hop is all but completely absent, and forget about such bands as Sonic Youth, Billy Bragg, The Fugs, The Fall, or Nick Cave. So the RRHOF has long since squandered any credibility they may have started with. If you don’t believe me, say hello to its newest members: Guns N’ Roses and the Red Hot Chili Peppers.