Jasper
11-28-06, 06:25 PM
Their TOP FIVE MOST UNDESERVING ROCK N ROLL HALL OF FAME INDUCTEES:
Aerosmith (inducted in 2001)
The line on Aerosmith for a long time was that they were second-rate Stones rip-offs. But they just wouldn’t die, literally and figuratively, and simply by surviving, they’ve attained the status of classic second-rate Stones rip-offs. Aerosmith’s handful of choice material is dramatically outweighed by a catalogue built on unsubtle innuendos, cliché-ridden lyrics and eye-rolling power ballads. Their influence is so diffuse as to be practically nonexistent, and the single landmark work to which they could legitimately lay a claim, 1986’s “Walk This Way” remake, is more substantially Run-DMC’s achievement. They’re the Bon Jovi of the 1970s.
Percy Sledge (inducted in 2005)
“If Percy Sledge had only recorded ‘When a Man Loves a Woman,’ one of the greatest of all soul songs,” begins Sledge’s page on the Hall’s Web site, “he would have earned his place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” What follows does nothing to dispel the implied “but,” with more than half of the remaining text spent on this single (admittedly titanic) song. Despite enjoying two more top 40 hits and a number of minor successes on the black music charts, Sledge was essentially a one-hit wonder who merits a shorter entry in the third and latest edition of the "Rolling Stone Encyclopedia Of Rock & Roll" than neighbors Slayer, Sleater-Kinney, Slick Rick and the Slits.
Black Sabbath (inducted in 2006)
Black Sabbath had a massively influential sound that countless other performers would end up using with immeasurably more wit, creativity and enthusiasm than Sabbath ever would. That’s because, for as much of a heavy metal cornerstone that the band and singer Ozzy Osbourne have become over the last 35 years, Sabbath was, to put it as bluntly as their music, terrible. Their piece de résistance was 1971’s "Paranoid," which features only two sharp numbers, “War Pigs” and the title track. (The iconic “Iron Man,” meanwhile, remains as numbingly unclever as any of countless anonymous metal songs of the same era.) Who’s next, Judas Priest and Motley Crue?
The Lovin’ Spoonful (inducted in 2000)
While songs like “Do You Believe In Magic?” and “Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?” maintain their appeal even today (no small feat, certainly), they do nothing to dispel the notion that the Lovin’ Spoonful, who lasted all of three non-world-changing years, were total lightweights. Even the catalogues of famously junk-minded groups like the Monkees, the Turtles and Tommy James and the Shondells are richer, not to mention more influential. The Spoonful stand as the most insubstantial band in the Hall... unless, of course, the currently shortlisted Dave Clark Five make the cut for 2007.
Bobby Darin (inducted in 1990)
Bobby Darin’s induction into the Hall is like if Martin Scorsese had been given a best-supporting actor Oscar for his performance as Homicidal Passenger in "Taxi Driver": the right honor for the wrong thing. Darin was an immensely talented, stylistically omnivorous pop singer of the classic mold, but his un-Sinatra-like lack of contempt for rock and roll let him get his start in the genre and use it as a stepping stone to bigger and better things. (Certainly better than “Splish Splash,” one of the stupidest, least convincing party songs of all time.) The man belongs in a hall of fame, just not this one.
Aerosmith (inducted in 2001)
The line on Aerosmith for a long time was that they were second-rate Stones rip-offs. But they just wouldn’t die, literally and figuratively, and simply by surviving, they’ve attained the status of classic second-rate Stones rip-offs. Aerosmith’s handful of choice material is dramatically outweighed by a catalogue built on unsubtle innuendos, cliché-ridden lyrics and eye-rolling power ballads. Their influence is so diffuse as to be practically nonexistent, and the single landmark work to which they could legitimately lay a claim, 1986’s “Walk This Way” remake, is more substantially Run-DMC’s achievement. They’re the Bon Jovi of the 1970s.
Percy Sledge (inducted in 2005)
“If Percy Sledge had only recorded ‘When a Man Loves a Woman,’ one of the greatest of all soul songs,” begins Sledge’s page on the Hall’s Web site, “he would have earned his place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” What follows does nothing to dispel the implied “but,” with more than half of the remaining text spent on this single (admittedly titanic) song. Despite enjoying two more top 40 hits and a number of minor successes on the black music charts, Sledge was essentially a one-hit wonder who merits a shorter entry in the third and latest edition of the "Rolling Stone Encyclopedia Of Rock & Roll" than neighbors Slayer, Sleater-Kinney, Slick Rick and the Slits.
Black Sabbath (inducted in 2006)
Black Sabbath had a massively influential sound that countless other performers would end up using with immeasurably more wit, creativity and enthusiasm than Sabbath ever would. That’s because, for as much of a heavy metal cornerstone that the band and singer Ozzy Osbourne have become over the last 35 years, Sabbath was, to put it as bluntly as their music, terrible. Their piece de résistance was 1971’s "Paranoid," which features only two sharp numbers, “War Pigs” and the title track. (The iconic “Iron Man,” meanwhile, remains as numbingly unclever as any of countless anonymous metal songs of the same era.) Who’s next, Judas Priest and Motley Crue?
The Lovin’ Spoonful (inducted in 2000)
While songs like “Do You Believe In Magic?” and “Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?” maintain their appeal even today (no small feat, certainly), they do nothing to dispel the notion that the Lovin’ Spoonful, who lasted all of three non-world-changing years, were total lightweights. Even the catalogues of famously junk-minded groups like the Monkees, the Turtles and Tommy James and the Shondells are richer, not to mention more influential. The Spoonful stand as the most insubstantial band in the Hall... unless, of course, the currently shortlisted Dave Clark Five make the cut for 2007.
Bobby Darin (inducted in 1990)
Bobby Darin’s induction into the Hall is like if Martin Scorsese had been given a best-supporting actor Oscar for his performance as Homicidal Passenger in "Taxi Driver": the right honor for the wrong thing. Darin was an immensely talented, stylistically omnivorous pop singer of the classic mold, but his un-Sinatra-like lack of contempt for rock and roll let him get his start in the genre and use it as a stepping stone to bigger and better things. (Certainly better than “Splish Splash,” one of the stupidest, least convincing party songs of all time.) The man belongs in a hall of fame, just not this one.