Scrap the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame
If they’re going to induct rap and disco artists then they should turn it into a museum of popular music.
In 1983, America’s music industry leaders banded together to found a new Hall of Fame, dedicated to rock ’n’ roll. Seymour Stein, a legendary record executive and co-founder of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Foundation, said the Hall was important because “rock ’n’ roll is the cornerstone on which the modern record business is built.”
But what happens when the cornerstone of your monument collapses? Rock ’n’ roll music, as it was understood for more than half a century, has ceased to be a primary musical art form. It has been supplanted by pop songstresses and hip-hop artists.
When the Strokes’ “Is This It” came out in 2001, it seemed to announce a new wave of grimy rock bands. But the name of the band’s album answered its own question—that was it for rock music. Sure, rock bands still existed. The White Stripes and the Foo Fighters carried the mantle and were both later inducted to the Rock Hall. But they were no longer a priority for consumers. Radio pushed them aside in favor of Britney Spears, Eminem and Beyoncé. Soon, artists brandishing electric guitars while wearing black leather pants would be relegated to Halloween costume pop-up stores.
Fast-forward a quarter century to 2026. There haven’t been any new honor-worthy rock bands in the past 25 years—which is how long it takes for artists to become eligible for the Hall after their first album—so there will be almost no rock ’n’ roll acts to induct for the next 25. It’s comparable to what happened to the Baseball Hall of Fame around 15 years ago. The voting committee could barely find anyone to enshrine who wasn’t tainted by the steroid era.
Yet unlike in sports, the idea of rewarding art based on loosely defined standards is ridiculous. How do you define “worth” in the music industry? Is there a measure for “great” music? Is a band like the Go-Go’s, whose career was effectively built on three popular songs, more worthy of induction than a lesser known but still legendary band like the Replacements? The Rock Hall voters think so.
Preposterously, the Hall continues to snub the most influential bands of the past half-century in favor of the bands they inspired. There would be no Green Day (inducted in 2015) without Minneapolis’s legendary speed-metal merchants Hüsker Dü. Nirvana (inducted in 2014) frequently cited Pixies as a major influence, as did many bands in the 1990s. Yet only the former has been rewarded for its work.
When in 2023 I saw that the Hall had inducted Marxist angst rockers Rage Against the Machine before bands like Sonic Youth, Weezer and the Smiths, I had to check to make sure I hadn’t suffered a stroke.
It’s time to dispense with the Hall of Fame format of art altogether. These hallowed halls are fine for sports, where performance is quantifiable and comparisons between players are defensible. Weighing the relative merit of music is offensive, because it’s impossible.
The solution is simple: Scrap the induction charade and turn the building in Cleveland into the American Museum of Popular Music. The infrastructure for this already exists since the Rock Hall hosts a museum. Add notable bands to the collection when they warrant a place in music history.
Music isn’t a listicle; it’s an experience. Rock was great because much of it didn’t care about popular approval. In many cases, acts earned popularity specifically because they disdained it. Its monument should honor that rebellious ethos.
Note: This article first appeared at the Wall Street Journal’s Free Expression website.
I'm open to any sort of revisions and corrections to the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame as soon as they kick out Bon Jovi. After that, we can have all the honest conversations in the world.