What is The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for? I only ask because, while in the USA last week, I caught the induction ceremony on HBO and still don't have the faintest idea.
The institution was formed in 1986 with the stated aim of 'celebrating music and musicians whose contributions have had a significant impact on the evolution, development and perpetuation of rock and roll by inducting them.' Slightly long-winded but at least it's clear what they do - I just don't understand why.
Watching the event, it appeared the musicians were equally bemused. In the induction process a band or celebrity takes to the podium and spends a sweary ten or so minutes lionising the favoured act. For example, the three fellas from Green Day huddle around a microphone. Billy Joe Armstrong rambles to the boozy crowd about his fondness for Guns n Roses while his GD compatriots stand, hands behind back, grinning in silence. BJA's comments are directed slightly to stage right because there, hidden from the audience, is Guns n Roses. Or some of them. Axl Rose is conspicuous by his absence (a common problem across the evening - when I tuned in The Faces were being honoured, but Rod was otherwise engaged so we had Mick Hucknall instead.) Nevertheless, when BJA eventually ran out of variations on 'you guys really rock', the depleted Guns n Roses stroll onto the overcrowded stage.
A horribly protracted and unnecessary relay of hugs and back slapping precedes Slash thanking roadies and pals of whom we've never heard and delivering some clunky diplomacy concerning his missing lead singer. Once a couple of junior band members have more or less repeated what Slash said, the guys stomp across to the performance area. Yep, some of the inductees get to demonstrate their worth via a mini live set.
But hang on! As we've established, Axl has taken his ball home. How's this going to work? Well, without a flicker of embarrassment, Guns n Roses plough through 'Paradise City' and 'You Could Be Mine' with Scott Weiland out of Stone Temple Pilots doing the singing. So bizarrely, we are witnessing the induction of a band who are unable to perform with their best known member, song writer and owner of G n R's signature high rise vocals. Welcome to the jungle.
Fortunately Red Hot Chilli Peppers arrive with a more complete line-up (although no sign of John Frusciante). Without an obvious reason, RHCP are to be inducted by comedian Chris Rock. He's clearly off duty tonight because his address isn't remotely funny. In fact, his eight minute hagiography bears a remarkable similarity to Armstrong's earlier waffle. Once more, cut-away cameras show the Peppers behind the flats, uncomfortably listening to Rock's fawnings. When they enter to accept their plaudits, we are treated to Flea bawling his eyes out, and Anthony doing a very good impression of a man with other things to do. Formalities complete, the group launch into one of their least impressive numbers -'Heavy Glow'. Some clumsy editing has been deployed allowing a couple of band members to become suddenly bare chested. Of course the well-oiled crowd love every note, but RHCP hardly get up a head of steam before it's all over.
Other inductees include The Midnighters, who are charming and seem genuinely moved to be recognised in their advanced years, The Blue Caps (sans Gene Vincent, obviously), Laura Nyro and The Miracles.
A bit of appreciation is never unwelcome and for the older artists (many of whom almost certainly never saw real financial rewards for their work) this must be a happy opportunity to be back on stage with their colleagues, maybe for the last time. But that doesn't tell me what the whole construct is for.
When a solo star, group or producer is placed in the Hall of Fame, what does it signify? At best, the obvious facts: for a while you were successful, famous and even innovative - but music fans already know that. At worst it suggests you are now a museum curiosity. Indeed, the Hall has a museum in Ohio where visitors can gaze at props, instruments and costumes in a setting for which they were never intended. They have yet to persuade any former rock stars to stand rigid on a plinth, but you never know.
I may be an old romantic but, talent show contestants aside, I'd like to think bands are not formed, nor songs written, in order to win things, or become trophies for the industry. Surely Roger Waters, David Bowie, John Lydon and even Sting were driven to creativity by their ideas and a need to reveal their truths to the world. So I genuinely don't understand how herding a parade of disparate performers under a single roof adds to this noble art. It's a bit tawdry and reductive, rather like shooting a polar bear, stuffing him and sticking him in a cabinet, the better to appreciate his majesty and power.
I suspect The Rock n Roll Hall of Fame is no more than a money-spinning, cynical artifice - designed for tourists and TV producers. After all, the best way to recognise great musicians is to play their records, dance to their songs, go to their gigs and make their work a permanent part of your life. No hall required.
