Another Rock Hall ceremony has come and gone, and for some reason it always inspires me to write a post that's part State of the Union and part bootleg masterpiece courtesy of Paul Stanley, "People, Let Me Get This Off My Chest" where I unload 12 months of thoughts at once.
In a hilarious twist I certainly didn't see coming, the Rock Hall itself is the almost sole reason we decided to keep the podcast going, and the people who work there were the ones who were able to knock down the walls I'd built around me since 2021. Our experience visiting the museum in April produced a lot of unexpected but wonderful moments for me, the main one being that for the first time in ages, I didn't feel invisible. Depression makes you feel so fucking small, and it convinces you the world wouldn't notice or care if you weren't there. But the people at the Rock Hall made me feel seen.
My words were heard, I was treated like a person, I was treated with warmth, I was treated like I had a lick of intelligence, my ideas were validated, artists I brought up were enthusiastically cosigned, and we talked about REAL issues. I was able to passionately express my views on women and it was met with open-mindedness and true listening rather than awkward silences and a subject change. I wasn't looked down on for speaking about music from the heart and not from some lofty perch of academia. I was made to feel that my heart and passion are the best parts of me and not flaws to be corrected. All of those things are things that I don't feel on Twitter anymore and haven't for a long time. Given that I've spent years bitching unrelentingly at the Rock Hall, their genuine kindness was humbling. It was unexpected. It crumbled my defenses. It restored my faith in people a little.
It made me realize that for the last few years I have been discussing the Rock Hall as an abstract thing, when really they're just people too. And to my delight, most of them seem to be truly good and decent people who love music and want to solve problems. Problem solvers are the kinds of people I like and gravitate towards. Can they wave a wand and make everything perfect overnight? No. But at least they care enough to try because it's the right thing to do. They're willing to listen and to change. They're even willing to listen to me, and I'll never be able to articulate to them how much the act of simply listening to me meant.
Just as things got a little better after that visit, I got Covid and it wrecked my voice so badly that I didn't think I'd be able to speak normally again, so we reached another "maybe the podcast is over" point. Feeling like my choice was going to be taken from me caused another depressive flareup. (Legit, the first six months of this year can GET WRECKED.)
I did my Extreme episode in July because I desperately needed to focus on something that made me happy. I was starting to crack. Covering and nitpicking everything the Rock Hall says and does had completely eroded my love for music. I needed to talk about something that I love, and damn do I love those Extreme boys. Pornograffti HIT during a time I needed it, and I needed to talk about it. I needed to just be myself for once, even though I figured no one would care. (I was both right and wrong.) So I did it even thought took us twice as long to record that episode, because talking was still making me cough my guts out during that time, but I persisted. It ended up exploding and being one of the highlights of my year, maybe my life. Gary Cherone is a real one. Extreme's manager Robby Hoffman too. They'll never know what they did for me this year, not truly. My fellow Extreme fans are a level of positive and welcoming that I really needed. Y'all fucking rock.
I am finally better both mentally and physically. We're having fun, doing the episodes we want and enjoying the the Rock Hall again. I feel like I have a voice, and that the people who matter hear it. I find myself feeling hopeful, especially after the 2022 ceremony. While the numbers of women inducted weren't high and the way they treated Sylvia Robinson and Elizabeth Cotten pissed me off, the energy in the room on ceremony night made me feel on top of the world. The Rock Hall did so much right this year. Watching everyone in the audience support one another was beautiful. Watching the female inductees and the genuine love between them made my heart sing. Watching men support those women and treat them like equal people was faith restoring. Watching women in the audience passionately singing along to Pat Benatar, Carly Simon and the Eurythmics, and being a part of those moments with my fellow sisters is something I will treasure for the rest of my life. Fist pumping to Judas Priest with other metal fans, half of them women, felt fucking great. I can't explain it, but it felt like the tide was finally turning for women and maybe even the world that night. Time will tell if I'm right, but for now I'm just happy to feel hope again.
As for next year, I hope the Rock Hall continues on the path they seem to be on. I see them trying to change, I truly do. There's just things that need gut checks on and for there to be some tweaking and calibration, but that's the case with anything. Nothing will ever be perfect, but it can be mindful and intentional. Here's some State of the Union: Rock Hall Edition that is at the top of my mind for 2023.
The State of Hip Hop
For the love of god, induct a female hip hop artist next year. Hell, go wild and induct two. You inducted two male hip hop artists in 2021 so I know it's not beyond the Rock Hall scope. If it's good for them, why isn't it good for us? We all know it's bullshit a hip hop woman hasn't been inducted at this point. Make room for them in the museum exhibits, and let me believe that you cosign Ladies First.
The State of Women
Remember that women aren't a sugar and spice monolith and we all deserve to be represented. I don't quite feel represented yet. While I do want more women nominated/inducted and am loathe to show any dissent when it comes to women, I have to start pushing back a little. I'm seeing a trend that the women being talked about online are always women who have personalities that don't scare or offend men at large. (Unsurprisingly, men are mostly the ones determining these are the women who are suitable for nomination). It's nice people want Sheryl Crow in. I don't personally share the opinion that her not being inducted is the burning injustice of our time, though if she were on a ballot I would support her just on a baseline "I support women" level. But damn, I am sick of being told by men "but Sheryl plays NICE with the Rock Hall". You want women's voices heard in the Rock Hall conversation? Cool, then hear mine. Fuck being nice.
I'm tired of being nice. Most women are tired of being nice. If you want to impress me or represent me, then advocate for and nominate women who are the worst thing a woman can be per society...difficult. Challenge people's notions that women don't rock or that we must be nice to an industry that's not exactly nice to us in order to "win". Hell, the Rock Hall itself hasn't been nice to women until the last couple of years, so why should women have to suck up and play nice to be inducted? If you really care about representing us, then nominate women who are scary, weird, aggressive, offensive and interesting. You know, kind of like male inductees get to be. If you need sugar in your ceremony, that's totally fine, but give me a spoonful of Carolina Reaper sauce to wash the sugar down. Give me Grace Jones, Millie Jackson, Sinead O'Connor, The Runaways, Fanny, Lil' Kim, L7, Wendy O. Williams, Siouxsie Sioux, Exene, Shirley Manson, Courtney Love or Kim Gordon.
Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of lovely, sweet, gentle female artists who speak to me that I'd like to see inducted. But that's just one side of being a woman. Trust me when I tell you we have some aggression and rage to express too. So if you support women, then let us speak and let our opinions carry the same weight as yours when we talk about the artists who are important to us.
The State of Metal
Now that Judas Priest has shown the world that metal is fun and something people of all stripes enjoy, can we finally cut the snobby crap and get more of it in the Hall? (I'll be lumping hard rock/hair metal into this convo too).
Rob Halford showed the world that yes, metal guys can be cuddly good dudes too. Guess what? He's not the only one. Dee Snider raises money for the March of Dimes, Dimebag Darrell's family created a network of charities to support everything from veterans to children's music programs, and Ronnie James Dio put together Hear n' Aid to raise funds to fight famine in Africa. His widow Wendy continues Ronnie's legacy with the Stand Up and Shout Cancer Fund. Dee, when he wasn't testifying in front of the Senate and fighting for free speech, has been a loyal and true friend to Lita Ford. Motörhead's Lemmy Kilmister fiercely championed women like Girlschool and Wendy O. Williams. The Scorpions took Vixen out on tour back in the proverbial day, and Vixen has gushed about how supportive they were to them. (The Scorpions also have continued to walk the walk and had the excellent all female metal band Thunder Mother open for them on their recent tour). Trust and believe that as a woman, I'd pick Lemmy, Klaus or Dee as an ally any day over some of y'all's faves.
The Rock Hall has invited the public into their process and done things like install the Voice Your Choice kiosks, presumably to hear people's voices. The people have spoken for years, and they're loudly and consistently saying the words Mötley Crüe. You may hate them, they may disgust you, (I don't know how their behavior is any worse than Jerry Lee, Ahmet Ertegun, Phil Spector or any other problematic dudes who are inducted) but you cannot ignore Mötley Crüe forever. Their recent tour with Joan Jett, Def Leppard and Poison (another band who absolutely should be inducted, yes I said it) grossed $173.5 million in ticket sales. Just because snobs don't like it or get it doesn't mean it doesn't matter to a lot of other people. I've accepted a lot of inductees I didn't particularly care about and didn't speak to me, so you can tolerate a ceremony with me fist pumping to "Kickstart My Heart".
The wild amount of hypocrisy online about metal/hard rock artists and their lyrical content drives me insane. Stop pretending you care about distasteful lyrics against women. At the ceremony I watched everyone eat up Dr. Dre giggling over Eminem's lyrics about killing women, knowing Dre's not exactly an angel either. Compared to that, the Scorpions singing that they have an exploding shot of pleasure for me is practically Lord Byron and a Hallmark movie rolled into one. Stop pretending that some of your critically acceptable darlings are the poster children for good behavior and inclusivity, and that metal/rock guys are all scary neanderthals. Just admit you look down on their fans because you have preconceived notions about who they are as people.
The State of Pioneers
There is word on the streets that if an older artist hasn't been inducted then they aren't getting in. You cannot call yourself inclusive if you're ageist, full stop. Ageism is so ugly and disrespectful, especially in the music conversation when we should all be falling on our knees and thanking the pioneers. Shutting out artists from the 50's, 60's and even 70's is disgusting, and it's not a world I want. Everyone deserves a space at the table, even if they are gasp...old. As if to add insult to injury, some of them allegedly aren't in because of Jann Wenner's personal beefs, Warren Zevon being one of them. So because some of these artists were shunned over petty rich guy stuff, they must be punished forever? Green Day deserves to be inducted but The Spinners, Mary Wells and The Shangri-Las don't? Nah. I don't accept that.
The State of Categories
I am still pro-big class and pro-category, but I hope there are steps taken to not repeat the shit show that happened this year in the ceremony with Harry Belafonte, Sylvia Robinson and Elizabeth Cotten. That was...not it. If you're going to honor people, HONOR them. Let them be seen, let them (or their surviving family) have a moment to accept their award, grab people by the lapels and tell them why these artists matter. If they're Early Influence, have a modern artist they've influenced perform one measly song for them so that people connect the dots. (I swear to God I will throw hands if The Carter Family or Screamin' Jay Hawkins are ever inducted and don't get proper induction treatment.)
If you can't treat everyone equally, then the solution is a smaller class, full stop. It doesn't have to be as small as before, but 10-12 inductees seems like it would keep things fair and equal.
Also, Rock Hall, stop ignoring those of us calling for you to do the right thing and induct Estelle Axton. Yes it will be awkward to admit that you excluded her, but just rip the band-aid off and make it right.
The State of Hispanic and Latino Artists
I love the Rock Hall and appreciate the steps they've taken to be outwardly supportive of various groups, but there was never a sadder sight than their posts on Hispanic Heritage Month this year. It made the lack of Hispanic and Latino artists in the Hall so glaring that something needs to happen to amend it ASAP. Selena is a given of course, but Celia Cruz, Sheila E., Los Lobos, Ricky Martin, Gloria Estefan, Soda Stereo, Tito Puente and I'm sure a multitude of others escaping my mind are all artists who should be considered.
The State of Outcasts and Underdogs
I am not someone who looks down on popular music because I believe that everything has its time and place, and that every type of music fills a void. There's a lot of mainstream stuff I like, and don't really mind bands like Bon Jovi or Journey getting inducted. I've mostly made peace with the Rock Hall ceremonies evolving into bigger, flashier affairs, though my heart will always miss that first rough and ready feeling at the 2012 ceremony. But Eric recently wrote a piece that hit me straight in the feels almost solely because of this line:
"And that's the problem with 'big.' Small, nuanced things get trampled upon."
Given the year I had, it made a lot of things click that had been bothering me that I didn't even realize. It made me realize why I always am more interested in the artists no one is interested in talking about, and bored by the ones I'm told to like.
So many of us out there feel small, voiceless and trampled on. We walk through life confident no one sees us. We feel weird, misunderstood and like it's damn near impossible to find a tribe of people who gets us. You can be in your 40's and still feel like the weird kid no one wants to sit with at lunch. It's lonely. It's isolating. But that's where music comes in and saves the day, and an artist comes along who gives you a voice. Suddenly you're not alone, and sometimes that artist who tells you it's okay to be weird, shy, quiet, scary, bold or different is the one who changes your life. Maybe it's Hole, Sun-Ra, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Nick Cave, Dio, Insane Clown Posse, Slayer, PJ Harvey, Tori Amos or Black Flag. Maybe it's someone else. The weight on your chest and heart suddenly becomes a little less crushing because finally someone gets you, and the fog clears because you realize you're not alone. Far from it, in fact, they help you realize there's a lot of great weirdos out there just like you.
Does the Rock Hall represent us invisible weirdos? Eh....
The direction the Rock Hall is taking does sometimes feel a little bit like the jocks and cheerleaders show. The ne'er-do-well shop kids, punks smoking under the bleachers and unsightly nerds playing Magic The Gathering are being quietly left behind. Perhaps that's unfair to say, but there was definitely a slick vibe to the ceremony that I think the Rock Hall needs to keep an eye on. Popular is fine, hell I fully admit that I had the time of my life at the ceremony and bopped along to Lionel Richie's "All Night Long" like anyone else. But the parts I enjoyed the most were the fearless weirdos: Pat Benatar, Judas Priest, the Eurythmics. And even then all I could think was that I wanted there to be more boldness, more braveness and more freakiness.
Rock and roll was built off the backs of weirdos and unlikable freaks who pushed boundaries, and I hope John Sykes and the Rock Hall remember that. Let us know it's okay if we sit at the table with the cool kids. Let us know you see us too.
Until next year folks...
Edited To Add: My loving husband who I would do anything in the world for has insisted I link the actual Paul Stanley video. He's right, it's pretty amazing. Eric, thanks for introducing me to this masterpiece, for always making me laugh, and most of all for loving me as is.
