If I could choose just one awards show to attend in my lifetime, it would be the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony. This year’s version is April 14 in Cleveland at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The greatest family vacation I’ve taken was with my wife and kids. On our way to Philadelphia and then later Ocean City, N.J., we made a pit stop in Cleveland to tour the Hall. My only regret is that the Indians weren’t playing just down the street that day and that my kids weren’t a little older at the time. Knowing the intense and knowledgeable music fans that they’d turn into eventually, they would have flipped for the experience today. As it was, they were a little too tender in the foot to appreciate the relevance of seeing Elvis’ garb up close or the significance of laying eyes on the instruments the masters once played.
I used to be a major geek for awards shows when I was younger. Pre-Internet and cable TV, awards shows where really one of a very few opportunities you had to see stars from entertainment gather in one place. I never particularly cared who actually won the awards, I just wanted to witness for myself if Mr. Box Office or Mr. Music really was all he was advertised as being. If I was lucky, someone I actually gave a rip about would perform, like Dylan did at the Grammy’s back in the early 90s, howling out “Masters of War” upon being introduced by Jack Nicholson himself.
Today, I might make a point to watch the Oscars or I might not. Never the Grammies, Tony’s, Emmy’s, Espies, or anything else, for that matter. I simply don’t have the time or patience to sit through another pop culture barrage that leaves my senses dulled and pained. I have a four-year-old that can take care of that, and I actually give a damn what she says and thinks. I can’t say the same for the latest pop-warbling diva or would-be thug rapper. That may be my “bitter old man” speaking, but so be it. I know what I like, and run-of-the-mill entertainment that looks, sounds, and feels all the same isn’t it.
What I don’t get tired of, though, is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction. I love seeing rock stars in awkward situations, like wearing suits. I love seeing rock stars I’ve idolized all in the same room, and I love it more when they personally offend the geezers and establishment they’re sitting next to. I love seeing rock stars I didn’t necessarily like but appreciated in some way come together on stage with someone with a completely different approach. I love it more when two stars I love collide and amaze me, like Neil Young and Zeppelin, Tom Petty and Prince, and others. I particularly love the induction speeches, especially those that come from a huge star in his own right that’s filled with reverence and awe and appreciation. I love hearing how certain people who have done it all have been influenced by others who were pioneers. Elton John and Leon Russell? Who would have guessed? Keith Richards induction of Chuck Berry gave me goose bumps. So did Bono’s words on Bob Marley.
Although the acceptance speeches can be a bit hit or miss, occasionally you get that one that’s really spicy (The Sex Pistols, CCR, etc.) or the one that’s really awkward (Blondie, ouch.) I’m always moved when a band pays tribute to a fallen member, like The Ramones did for Joey. I’m also moved and thrilled when an underdog gets his day, Iggy Pop included.
Most of all I think, I love when band members that haven’t seen eye to eye for years and years put aside their differences and just do what matters: play music. Cream. Zeppelin. Talking Heads, bravo. I wish more than anything Guns N’ Roses would do as much this year. They probably won’t, though, which is a shame. What’s so important that you can’t? Money? Egos? Appearances? Nah. I don’t think so. It’s only rock and roll, after all. Why not let the animosity go for a couple hours, kick some ass for old time’s sake, and then go back to hating one another? I wish I could have a one-on-one intervention with Axl. I let him know what the real score is. I'd free him of his paranoid illusions. I'd ease his appetite for destruction. I'd make him see that Slash isn't such a bad guy. I'd make him realize that he'd be providing himself all kinds of good will by not being such a dick and just taking the easy way for once. I question his manhood. I question if he still has it. I ask him if he's afraid he can't hang with his old running mates, if he fears that they're better than him. Then, after I got him good and worked up,
I don't know when, but someday I’ll be in attendance for a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony and witness such history. That’s a promise to myself I intend to keep.
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