In the series of posts on my personal rock & roll hall of greatness, I called out the 84 acts not in Cleveland who would be in my hall and the 84 Hall of Famers I’d kick out to make room.

My own thoughts now in ink, I took to Twitter to see what others thought about these groups’ worthiness. Over the course of a week, I posted 84 polls asking which artist would be in your personal hall: the one in mine, the one in Cleveland, neither, or both.

All in all, you were a discerning group, with the 168 options averaging only 36% support. The group in my personal hall fared a little better (41%) than the group in Cleveland (32%). In 48 cases, you preferred my addition to the band I kicked out, vs. 32 wins for the Hall of Famers and four ties.

This data set up the fun stuff: series of polls to determine, bracket-style, the least worthy act in the Hall of Fame and the most worthy act outside of it. Ignoring redundant acts like The Blue Caps (bandleader Gene Vincent was inducted separately), I seeded the “top” 18 overrated Hall of Famers and faced them off, three at a time, until I had a championship game. 18th seed Def Leppard shocked the (tiny corner of the) world by reaching the final, where it squared off against the 8th seeded Moonglows, who won the title in a rout.

Gene Pitney earned the top seed by getting no votes when squared off against Pixies in the prior poll, but couldn’t get past Paul Butterfield Blues Band in the first round. Here’s guessing my followers haven’t heard Pitney’s music. They’re not missing much, in my opinion. Clyde McPhatter, who also got no votes when facing OutKast (even though “both” was an option), won a round, but was cut down by The Moonglows in the semifinals.

Up next was the Biggest Hall of Fame Snubs tournament. I seeded the 32 acts who get the most support in the first round of polls. Sadly, this still left personal favorites like Sleater-Kinney, Pavement, Blur, Portishead, and Siouxsie and the Banshees on the outside.

The seedings, to my eyes, were odd, probably the result of small samples in the first polls and a lack of clarity over what standards one should apply to one’s own personal hall. The top eight seeds in order, were Dolly Parton, Pixies, A Tribe Called Quest, Willie Nelson, Beck, Joy Division/New Order, The Smiths, and Rage Against the Machine. With heavyweights like OutKast, Big Star, and Fiona Apple seeded lower, the bracket was sure to be busted in short order.

Sure enough, Tribe and Willie ran into trouble in the first round, needing runoffs to beat Kraftwerk and Smashing Pumpkins, respectively, after the initial polls ended in a tie. The Replacements upset 11th-seeded Fiona Apple and Kate Bush took out 12th-seeded Eric B & Rakim. From there, chalk took over. The eight quarterfinalists were Dolly Parton, Pixies, A Tribe Called Quest, Willie Nelson, Beck, Joy Division/New Order, The Smiths, and Rage Against the Machine. Does that list look familiar?

Even with their lofty seedings, the country singers had to be underdogs in a rock & roll tournament, right? No. Dolly handled Rage, 80-60, while Willie smoked Beck, 84-39. Tribe and Pixies each won their quarterfinal by a single vote, stuffing the semifinals with the top four seeds.

Parton and Nelson locked in an absolute classic, with Dolly grabbing a few late votes to win, 141-138. Pixies made it another round of straight chalk, beating Tribe, 77-60, giving us a thrilling final. #1 vs. #2. The icon vs. the underground. Country vs. indie. Gen X vs. Gen Y. I couldn’t possibly predict which act would walk away with the title.

But the seedings could. Dolly Parton snared the first few votes and never looked back, Blackening Francis and Dealing Kim a crushing 137-67 loss.

It’s only a few hundred people in one little corner of the twitterverse, but the result was deafening: Dolly Parton is the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame’s biggest snub. She’s on this year’s ballot. I like her chances.

In this final post in the series, I’ll start with links to the prior pasts, then briefly discuss the 15 acts who came closest to making my hall of greatness (and about whom I could change my mind in future years), and then I’ll list all 239 artists in my hall alphabetically.

Project Summary

Introduction

In Cleveland, In My Hall

In Cleveland, Not In My Hall

Not in Cleveland, Easily in My Hall

Not in Cleveland, Barely in My Hall

The Near Misses

Air – 1998’s “Moon Safari” is such a masterpiece that if any one of their subsequent albums were really good, I’d find room for them. There are high points on the “Virgin Suicides” soundtrack and “10,000 Hz Legend”, but they fall just short.

Alice In Chains – The rock hall in Cleveland seems more willing to consider American alternative acts that their British contemporaries, so I could see Alice In Chains being inducted someday. For me, they line up ahead of Soundgarden and Stone Temple Pilots, but behind The Smashing Pumpkins and Garbage.

Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band – A career full of relatively melodic rock in the vein of debut “Safe As Milk” probably would have left Don Van Vliet out of this hall, so the acid-trip experimentation of “Trout Mask Replica” works in his favor, but there’s not enough volume of either to tip the scales for me.

Pat Benatar – A hall of fame that includes Kiss and Bon Jovi and doesn’t include Pat Benatar feels awfully sexist to me. That said, I don’t listen to Kiss or Bon Jovi at all and Pat Benatar doesn’t speak my language enough to include here.

Fairport Convention – If anything they wrote before or after were as sublime as “Liege and Lief”, I’d make room. The same year’s “Unhalfbricking” doesn’t quite live up.

The Feelies – Beyond the lo-fi perfection of “Crazy Rhythms”, The Feelies made some strong music, including a surprising comeback in the 2010s, but I don’t quite see the volume of great songs.

The Gun Club – Where’s all the punk country, you ask? Well, I included X, didn’t I? This might have been the hardest exclusion, as The Gun Club’s run from ’81 to ’87 was consistently brilliant.

Harry Nilsson – Harry Nilsson probably deserves a spot in Cleveland. I haven’t listened to enough of his music to say he belongs in mine, and spending a couple hours with him last week didn’t tip the scales, but I’m willing to dig deeper the next time around.

Love – As one-and-a-half-album wonders go, I draw the line between Television/Neutral Milk Hotel and Love/The Slits. “Forever Changes” is an all-timer and “Da Capo” is worth a listen. Had they been great for another year or two, they’d be in.

Mazzy Star – I’ve come to appreciate the first three Mazzy Star albums over the past year or two. Ask me on another day and I might give them the Indigo Girls’ spot.

Psychedelic Furs – From 1980 to ’82, the Furs consistently released solid albums that didn’t give in to the neon sheen taking over radio and video at the time. Had they released one album or song worthy of the top five of its year, I could be swayed, but they come up just short for me.

The Raincoats – Their self-titled debut is a left-field gem and 1983’s “Moving” is a solid entry in their catalog. I just need to hear a little more.

Slick Rick – Uncle Ricky was capable of writing all-time great songs like “Children’s Story” and “Street Talkin'”, and that silky smooth flow made him a legend, but serving time for attempted murder during what would have been his prime robbed him of a hall-worthy career.

The Wedding Present – 1991’s “Seamonsters” is a massive album and a clinic in rock drumming. It’s two predecessors were pretty great too, enough so that I’ll give them a long look in future years.

Weezer – Weezer’s debut lit the world on fire, and there are good songs on their next two albums, but I’m not the “Pinkerton” stan that so many in my generation are and they’ve spent the last 20 years making music so awful that no record company would release it if not for the brand they get to put on the album cover.

My Rock & Roll Hall of Greatness

Acts not in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame are in italics.

2Pac

ABBA

AC/DC

Aerosmith

The Allman Brothers Band

Tori Amos

The Animals

Fiona Apple

Lavern Baker

The Band

Beach Boys

Beastie Boys

The Beatles

Beck

Bee Gees

Belle and Sebastian

Ben Folds Five

Chuck Berry

Big Star

Bikini Kill

Andrew Bird

Björk

Black Sabbath

Bobby “Blue” Bland

Blondie

Blur

Booker T & the MGs

David Bowie

James Brown

Ruth Brown

Built to Spill

Solomon Burke

Kate Bush

The Byrds

Terry Callier

Can

The Cars

Johnny Cash

Cat Power

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

Ray Charles

Chicago

The Clash

The Coasters

Cocteau Twins

Leonard Cohen

Sam Cooke

Elvis Costello

Cream

Creedence Clearwater Revival

Crosby, Stills, & Nash

The Crystals

The Cure

D’Angelo

Miles Davis

Dead Kennedys

Neil Diamond

Ani DiFranco

Dinosaur, Jr.

Dire Straits

Donovan

The Doors

Dr. John

Nick Drake

The Drifters

Bob Dylan

Electric Light Orchestra

Eric B. & Rakim

Everly Brothers

The Faces/The Small Faces

Roberta Flack

Fleetwood Mac

The Four Tops

Fugazi

Fugees (as collective)

Aretha Franklin

Peter Gabriel

Garbage

Marvin Gaye

Genesis

The Go-Go’s

Al Green

Green Day

Guns N’ Roses

Hall and Oates

George Harrison

PJ Harvey

Isaac Hayes

Heart

Jimi Hendrix

The Hollies

Hüsker Dü

Indigo Girls

Isley Brothers

Michael Jackson

The Jackson 5

The Jam

Etta James

Jane’s Addiction

Jay-Z

Jefferson Airplane

Jethro Tull

Billy Joel

Elton John

Janis Joplin

Joy Division/New Order

Albert King

Carole King

King Crimson

The Kinks

Kraftwerk

Fela Kuti

Led Zeppelin

John Lennon

Little Richard

Little Willie John

Madonna

The Mamas and the Papas

Manic Street Preachers

Bob Marley

Martha and the Vandellas

Massive Attack

Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions

Paul McCartney

Metallica

Joni Mitchell

Modest Mouse

The Moody Blues

Van Morrison

My Bloody Valentine

Nas

Willie Nelson

Neutral Milk Hotel

Randy Newman

Nine Inch Nails

Nirvana

The Notorious B.I.G.

N.W.A. (as collective)

Oasis

Sinéad O’Connor

Will Oldham

Roy Orbison

Beth Orton

OutKast

Parliament/Funkadelic

Dolly Parton

Pavement

Pearl Jam

Pet Shop Boys

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Wilson Pickett

Pink Floyd

Pixies

The Platters

The Police

Portishead

Elvis Presley

Pretenders

Lloyd Price

Primal Scream

Prince

Public Enemy

Pulp

Queen

Radiohead

Rage Against the Machine

Bonnie Raitt

Ramones

Red Hot Chili Peppers

Otis Redding

Lou Reed

R.E.M.

The Replacements

Jonathan Richman and Modern Lovers

Smokey Robinson & the Miracles

The Rolling Stones

The Ronettes

Linda Ronstadt

The Roots

Roxy Music

Run-D.M.C.

Rush

Gil Scott-Heron

Sex Pistols/Public Image Ltd.

The Shirelles

Silver Jews

Paul Simon

Simon & Garfunkel

Nina Simone

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Sleater-Kinney

Sly & the Family Stone

The Smashing Pumpkins

Elliott Smith

Patti Smith

The Smiths

Sonic Youth

The Spinners

Spoon

Dusty Springfield

Bruce Springsteen

Steely Dan

Cat Stevens

The Stone Roses

The Stooges

Supergrass

The Supremes

T. Rex

Talking Heads

Television

The Temptations

Throwing Muses

Tindersticks

Tool

Traffic

A Tribe Called Quest

Tina Turner

U2

The Velvet Underground

The Verve

Tom Waits

Muddy Waters

The Who

Wilco

Jackie Wilson

Bill Withers

Wire

Stevie Wonder

Wu-Tang Clan (as collective)

X

The Yardbirds

Yes

Yo La Tengo

Neil Young

Frank Zappa

The Zombies

Exactly half of the 84 artists I’m adding to my hall are no-doubters. Here are the 42 I had to think about a little:

The Close Calls

Ben Folds Five – Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis. Elton John and Billy Joel. In bygone eras, a small but visible slice of rock stars plied their trade on a piano, rather than a guitar. Ben Folds was far more of an outlier in his era. He’s on this page for the quality of his (three-man) group’s ’90s output, but the rarity of the tool he chose doesn’t hurt.

Bikini Kill – Give me all the riot grrrrls- even those who only released three (incendiary) albums.

Built to Spill – More like built to wail, amirite? Built to Spill took the neglected guitar hero torch handed down from Sonic Youth via Television.

Can – “Too weird for Cleveland” can be a badge of honor. You won’t hear Can on your local FM radio station, but their three-album run from ’71 to ’73 beats just about anything the radio does play.

Cat Power – I was cautious not to call Ben Folds’ piano prowess unique above, in part because Cat Power is similarly dexterous, though her calling card was more her introspective songwriting than beating the hell out of her piano.

The Crystals – The Crystals seemed to fly higher as a group (“Then He Kissed Me”, “Da Doo Ron Ron”, “He’s a Rebel”) than their leader, Hall of Famer Darlene Love, did after striking out on her own three decades later. While I believe Love’s “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” is the greatest holiday track ever recorded, I can’t explain why the singer is enshrined in Cleveland while the group is not. My hall of greatness fixes that issue.

D’Angelo – It’s not exactly rock and roll, but when it’s this smooth, it doesn’t need to be. Nobody does bedroom soul like D’Angelo, who comes out of hiding once a decade to drop a masterpiece before disappearing again. We’re blessed by every appearance.

Dead Kennedys – Rock and roll was born of a distaste for authority and a willingness to stand up for what’s right. Two decades and some real social progress after that birth, the punk generation felt empowered to hold leaders to a higher standard, so it’s not surprising that the Dead Kennedys’ far-left rants were too much for the aging Hall of Fame electorate.

Ani DiFranco – It’s the righteous punk missives that make her worthy, but the boldness of starting her own record label at 19 and recording for 30+ years on her own terms doesn’t hurt.

Dinosaur, Jr. – Add a layer of fuzz to Sonic Youth’s guitar fury and you’ve got Dinosaur, Jr., whose peak was shorter but who flew nearly as high.

Fugazi – You couldn’t throw a wrench in the early ’80s without hitting a hardcore band (who would throw the wrench back at you and keep thrashing). By the end of the decade, it was harder to forge new ground, but Fugazi lasted longer and sounded better than just about anyone from the scene that inspired them.

Fugees (as collective) – “Blunted on Reality”, the predecessor to the earth-shattering “The Score”, offers few hints of the madness to come, but it’s a surprisingly strong piece of alternative rap. Throw in Lauryn’s and Wyclef’s solo debuts, and there’s a catalog worth celebrating here.

Garbage – They may have blended into a deep and diverse post-grunge alternative scene, but looking back, their glam-tinged rock feels bolder and more beautiful than that of most of their peers.

Hüsker Dü – Frankly, leaving the kings of ’80s college rock out of the hall is a Husker Don’t.

Indigo Girls – I’ve listened to the Indigo Girls more than anyone else over the past few weeks and I’m not sure I’ve decided whether I like them, whether they’re great, or which of those things should matter, but there are moments when I can’t get their defiant harmonies out of my head and I’m feeling pretty good about my eleventh-hour choice to include them.

The Jam – Paul Weller has made a long career out of railing against authority, but The Jam’s music played it safe enough that it’s a little surprising they didn’t appeal to Hall voters.

Jane’s Addiction – Their peak only lasted two albums, but “Nothing’s Shocking” and “Ritual de lo Habitual” are so bold and rewarding that they don’t need anything else.

Fela Kuti – It’s hard enough to get Cleveland to notice bands from England and Scotland, let alone Nigeria. Fela’s ’70s work made the world feel a little smaller.

Manic Street Preachers – The Richey James era was way too short, but the Manics made one of their best albums, “Everything Must Go”, immediately after his disappearance and are still railing against power and corruption today.

Massive Attack – Including Portishead among the No-Doubters while Massive Attack is a Close Call meaningfully reflects where I see trip hop peaking, but the Attack certainly influenced Portishead and dropped phenomenal albums throughout the ’90s.

Modest Mouse – While it’s been a decade and a half since they released a great album, it still doesn’t feel right that Modest Mouse have been around long enough to be eligible for this project. Had it not coincided with Radiohead’s peak, Modest Mouse could have contended for world’s best band during their three-album run between ’97 and ’04.

My Bloody Valentine – “Loveless” is one of those incendiary albums that grew from no template but what was in its authors’ heads. The albums they released three years earlier and 22 years later are pretty decent too.

Neutral Milk Hotel – I refused to let in any one-album wonder, but “In Avery Island”, the predecessor to the hipster bible “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea”, is even more daring and nearly as infectious.

Sinéad O’Connor – No relation, but if any member of my family had Sinéad’s righteous indignation and knack for challenging melody, we’d be a stronger clan.

Will Oldham – This inducts Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Palace, Palace Brothers, Palace Music, and the many partnerships he’s been a part of over the years. It’s the albums he released as Prince Billy between ’99 (“I See a Darkness”) and ’11 (“Wolfroy Goes to Town”) that justify this placement, but he’s brilliant by every name.

Beth Orton – I’m as surprised as you are. I started compiling this hall of greatness by listing artists who landed at least three albums in my top 1,000. Beth Orton’s first three albums, which touch on classic R&B, folk, and jazz within an electronic rock shell, were all easy inclusions in that book. How can I keep that out?

Dolly Parton – I don’t care if you don’t think Dolly is rock and roll. If there were a hall of fame for class, she would be in it. If there were a hall of fame for philanthropy, she would be in it. Heck, if there were a hall of fame for ham and cheese sandwiches, I’d put her in even if she’d never eaten one. Oh, and she wrote two of the best songs ever recorded in one day, so she belongs in this one too.

Pet Shop Boys – The LGBT community needed the Pet Shop Boys in the ’80s, so it’s best that they peaked then, but here’s guessing they would have sold a whole lot more albums in the more welcoming ’00s.

Primal Scream – I’ve had a bit of a falling out with “Screamadelica”, the recommended starting point for Primal Scream newbies, but each of their next three albums, peaking with 2000’s “XTRMNTR”, is sublime.

Pulp – Among the jilted British acts of the ’90s, I’d put Blur, Massive Attack, The Verve, and Supergrass ahead of Pulp, and The Stone Roses, Tindersticks, Beth Orton, Primal Scream, and Manic Street Preachers roughly on par with them, but that reflects the depth of the movement more than any weakness on Pulp’s part.

Jonathan Richman & Modern Lovers – Their only studio album having been released three years after its recording, it’s almost as if the Modern Lovers never really existed. The band’s playful spirit lived on in Richman’s solo recordings over the next several decades, peaking with 1992’s giddily weird “I, Jonathan”.

Gil Scott-Heron – The Hall is impressively racially diverse, particularly as early rock/R&B is concerned, but few if any members were as real as Scott-Heron was in elucidating the ongoing travails of the Black man while white America patted itself on the back for civil rights advances.

Silver Jews – It’s tempting to go the Will Oldham route and induct David Berman instead, which would include his last project, Purple Mountains, but the group proved their worthiness with their work in the ’90s and ’00s. Besides, Stephen Malkmus deserves a second induction ceremony.

The Spinners – Cleveland’s hall is loaded with soul, R&B, and doo wop groups, from obvious entries like the Miracles and Temptations to more questionable choices like the Moonglows and Flamingos. The Spinners fall right in the middle of that pack.

Spoon – There are innovators and influencers and there are straightforward rock bands like Spoon, whom we might describe as garage rockers if they didn’t record in an era of rich, powerful production.

The Stone Roses – Their run was brief, but so many of the Britpop/Madchester acts I’m celebrating here owed everything to the Roses that it would be foolish to leave them out. Besides, I like their sophomore record, “Second Coming”, more than most seem to.

Supergrass – Go ahead and question this pick. Then spend a couple hours with “I Should Coco” and “In It For the Money” and tell me anyone was having more fun making music in the ’90s.

Television – I’m bending my own rule and pretending I like 1978’s “Adventure” so I can make sure the band responsible for perhaps the best guitar album ever, ’77’s “Marquee Moon”, is in my hall of greatness

Throwing Muses – Predating not only Riot Grrrl and Righteous Babe, but grunge and alt-rock, Throwing Muses were the band whose albums teenage boys like me should’ve been buying when Live and Bush records were marketed to us.

Tindersticks – The National will be an easy yes when they’re eligible, so it makes sense that their forebears, who traded in dimly lit, late-night musings, get the call.

The Verve – When “Bittersweet Symphony” dominated the airwaves, it was cool to like early Verve records from “before they sold out”. Twenty-five years later, “Urban Hymns” is the one on which the shoegazers-cum-Stones-interpreters hang their collective hat.

X – It’s typical of the post-sixties R&R HoF to accept that only the one or two most popular acts in a rock subgenre are worthy of the Hall. Once the Sex Pistols and Ramones got in, voters collectively decided they’d honored punk’s heroes and could ignore everything in their wake. X is among the most dynamic of the many worthy early ’80s punk bands left out in the cold.

You’ve seen the acts I’d like to keep in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and the (LINK) groups I’d like to kick out. Now let’s take a look at the first half of the 84 artists not inducted in Cleveland who make my personal hall of greatness.

The No-Doubters

Tori Amos – What makes Tori Amos great – a willingness to let the listener share in her discomfort – is probably what keeps her from Hall of Fame induction.

Fiona Apple – Her debut was a great record. Her second album was a once-in-a-generation masterpiece. A quarter century later, she hasn’t released anything that fails to live up to that standard.

Beck – If this this hall were devoted specifically to music from the past 30 years, there’s a case to be made that Beck would be the first inductee. In the mid-’90s, he was way ahead of the game, predicting next year’s music with each release. Since then, he’s been at his best working within established milieus such as folk (“Mutations”), R&B (“Midnight Vultures”), and psychedelia (“Morning Phase”). For good measure, he also dropped the most mature, relatable breakup album I’ve ever heard (“Sea Change”).

Belle and Sebastian – Their 1996 contends with any artist’s best year ever. Since then, they’ve spent decades crafting lush melodies to support Stuart Murdoch’s eye for beauty and scathing wit.

Big Star – In a just world, Big Star would be universally recognized as the kings of power pop and would have been inducted immediately upon eligibility.

Andrew Bird – a restless innovator, rock’s greatest whistler, one of its greatest violinists, and, most importantly, a top-tier songwriter

Björk – If Beck’s ’90s output didn’t have the most significant influence on music of the 21st century, Björk’s might have. Just an incredible run of innovative brilliance.

Blur – First they ignored King Crimson and Jethro Tull, then they neglected The Jam and The Smiths. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that Blur and Oasis have been left in the cold as well. Maybe if the museum were in Slough…

Kate Bush – I understand that Kate Bush is too ethereal for the sales-focused Rock Hall, but they’ve made questionable choices in attempts to not to gender equity in recent years. There are legends like Bush waiting for the call.

Terry Callier – If Callier had Bill Withers’s marketing machine, his “Lean On Me” would be just as ubiquitous and there would be a Callier vs. Al Green debate to rival Blur vs. Oasis.

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Is it a cliché to say that Nick Cave is too real for the Rock Hall? He’s been finding new ways to bring darkness to light for almost four decades and he’s making better music now than he did as a young musician.

Cocteau Twins – Frat rock sold a lot more records than dream pop, but it’s hard to swallow Bon Jovi’s and Def Leppard’s inclusion while the real stars of the ’80s are left in the cold.

Nick Drake – You can have Jackson Browne. I’ll take the true king of introspective folk-rock.

Eric B. & Rakim – The greatest rap duo until OutKast came along, Eric B. & Rakim were every bit the founding fathers Run D.M.C. were.

Roberta Flack – She’s not exactly rock & roll, but she made heavenly music at the same time Joni Mitchell and James Taylor hit the scene. Did they rock harder?

P.J. Harvey – One of the boldest innovators in rock from the ’90s through the ’10s, I imagine the Hall voters will get this one right sooner or later.

Jethro Tull – Somebody with a lot of sway in Cleveland had a traumatic childhood experience involving a flute. That’s the only way I can explain Tull being left out of an institution that’s honored the Rascals and the Lovin’ Spoonful.

Joy Division/New Order – Here’s a guess that if the surviving members of Joy Division hadn’t changed their name after Ian Curtis’s death, they’d have been in the Hall years ago. Sooner or later, some iteration of this band will be inducted, but someone will have to specify who exactly is the inductee. It seems a Faces/Small Faces or Parliament/Funkadelic treatment like this could make sense.

King Crimson – In the ’60s, they released the defining progressive rock statement, “In the Court of the Crimson King”. In the ’80s, “Discipline” still sounded similarly revolutionary. In between they were one of the most consistently great acts of the ’70s despite band members coming and going and and wholesale changes to the musical environment around them.

Kraftwerk – If I said that 40% of all music released today would sound different if not for Kraftwerk’s influence, would I be understating their case?

Nas – It didn’t take many cycles for Jay-Z to get the call. Other than branding, what did he do that Nas didn’t?

Willie Nelson – The position that Miles Davis is the only jazz musician whose crossover impacted rock music deeply enough to enshrine him carries some weight. I don’t see how the same could be true of Johnny Cash and country when Willie Nelson has been making rock-flavored country for sixty years, collaborating with Ray Charles, Bob Dylan, and Snoop Dogg and carving out space as an icon adored by all generations.

Oasis – If Electric Light Orchestra is in, there’s not really a case that Oasis falls short for hewing too close to The Beatles’ sound. One of these years…

OutKast – If rap qualifies, OutKast should have been in the first year they were eligible. I’d argue that no one has a deeper, richer body of sonically pleasing music. Stevie Wonder might come the closest.

Pavement – Many of the groups I’m adding were innovators who influenced artist who followed. That may be true of Pavement as well, but Pavement’s ticket is punched simply on the strength of the five rock albums they released in the ’90s, which collectively represent perhaps the decade’s best catalog.

Pixies – Where were you when you learned that Pixies aren’t in the Hall of Fame? If it happened right now, I’m so sorry to break it to you.

Portishead – Between the higher standard to which Hall voters seem to hold British acts and bands fronted by women, I don’t see them calling on these trip hop legends any time soon.

Rage Against the Machine – The band might just turn down the opportunity to perform at the induction ceremony, given that any entity that quantifies and ranks music risks being part of the machine.

The Replacements – If ever an ’80s band without big hair should have appealed to Hall voters, it seems like it should have been The Replacements. Sure, they were loud and often angry, but isn’t that how rock started? Is there anything The Animals did That the ‘Mats didn’t?

The Roots – The Roots’ instrument-driven hip-hop brought rock fans to rap even before they became Jimmy Kimmell’s house band, but the Hall’s embrace of rap seems catered toward the biggest sellers, who steered clear of guitars and drums.

Siouxsie and the Banshees – Between 1978 and 1988, Siouxsie and The Banshees released seven albums. Each one is among the best albums released that year and not one sounded like anything that had been recorded before. From Bauhaus to Hole to The Horrors, generations of bands have borrowed from Siouxsie’s goth punk, but no one has reached the heights of their ten-year run.

Sleater-Kinney – The only reason Nirvana made a bigger splash in the ’90s than Sleater-Kinney is because their image was familiar enough that publications like Rolling Stone were comfortable giving them attention. Sleater-Kinney are not only the greatest all-girl band in history; they were the underground revolution Kurt Cobain wanted Nirvana to be.

The Smashing Pumpkins – It made sense that Nirvana and Pearl Jam went in first, but the Foo Fighters beating the Pumpkins to the punch is just absurd. Nobody expanded the language of grunge like Billy Corgan.

Elliott Smith – Like Nick Drake’s, Smith’s lamentations may not fit the spirit that embodied the first generation of rock & roll, but if Cleveland can have James Taylor, I can have one of the great poets of the next era.

The Smiths – If The Clash were The Only Band That Mattered from ’77 to ’83, certainly The Smiths had some claim on that title from ’84 to ’88. Many lesser groups from that era have gotten the call, so why haven’t The Smiths?

Sonic Youth – By not looking past the Billboard charts, Hall voters are missing the groups that most expanded the language and possibilities of rock & roll. Somewhere, there’s an underground music hall of fame that doesn’t advertise on a wide scale. Sonic Youth were one of the first five acts inducted to that one.

Tool – It’s hard to pin down exactly where rock turns to metal, but Black Sabbath and Metallica are the only Hall members who obviously fit the bill. While the voters are (reasonably) debating Iron Maiden’s merits, they should let the ’90s’ best metal act slip in.

A Tribe Called Quest – In their original run of socially conscious hip hop from ’90 to ’93, Tribe staked a claim as the world’s best hip hop group. If that didn’t capture voters’ attention, reuniting in 2016 for the incendiary “We Got It From Here… Thank You 4 Your Service” certainly should have.

Wilco – So many of the groups on this page railed against societal norms and popular music in such a way as to keep them from the charts and the voters’ minds. Wilco is an act that played it just safe enough that I can see the voters calling sooner or later.

Wire – The Sex Pistols are in Cleveland on the strength of one album. Wire made three of punk’s defining statements in the same era and is still cranking them out 40 years later.

Wu-Tang Clan (as collective) – If the N.W.A. treatment should apply to any other group, it’s certainly Wu-Tang, who dropped one of the great rap records as a group and whose members have peppered the landscape with landmark “solo” albums for decades since.

Yo La Tengo – Like Nick Cave and Sonic Youth, they did what they did behind the scenes, but they did it so well and for so long that, at some point, the world had to stop ignoring them.

You’ve seen the Rock & Roll Hall of Famers I kept in my hall. Let’s take a look at the 84 acts I had to kick out to make room for 84 I like more. 13 of them were difficult cuts, another 13 felt redundant to me, and the other 58 just don’t speak to me.

The Redundant Group

The Blue Caps – Gene Vincent’s already in Cleveland. I don’t have either of them in.

The Comets – Bill Haley is famous for one song. He should be an Early Influencer. His band should feel lucky to have been associated with him.

The Crickets – Buddy Holly is a member of the inaugural class, and a worthy one. I inducted them as a group.

The Famous Flames – James Brown is an all-time great. His backing band can share the stage at his inauguration.

The Impressions – Both Curtis Mayfield and his mates are honored in Cleveland. My default position in cases like this is to induct the group, thereby welcoming the individual. In Mayfield’s case, his solo work exceeds that of his group, so I inducted them as “Curtis Mayfield and The Impressions”.

The Midnighters – Hank Ballard isn’t a terrible choice for the hall, but I have him and his group coming up just short.

The Miracles – I inducted them with Smokey Robinson, as the Hall voters should have.

Jeff Beck – The Yardbirds are absolutely worthy, but nothing in Beck’s solo catalog gets me going.

Eric Clapton – He’s a legend, but it’s mostly for what he did with Hall of Fame groups The Yardbirds and Cream and one-album wonder Derek and the Dominos.

Darlene Love – It just feels more appropriate to induct The Crystals, who flew higher and left a richer legacy during their brief run.

Stevie Nicks – She made good music after leaving Fleetwood Mac, but not enough for me to justify a second induction.

Rod Stewart – I like the Hall’s decision to induct The Small Faces, fronted by Steve Marriott, and The Faces, with Stewart at the helm, as a single unit. That’s enough recognition for Rod.

Ike & Tina Turner – Ike Turner can buy a ticket (or, better yet, remain dead).

The Last Cuts

Jackson Browne – Browne enjoyed a long run of radio-friendly soft rock and tracks like “Doctor My Eyes” are hall-caliber, but I can’t forgive him for rushing America into the ’80s when we still had a perfectly good ’70s going.

The Dave Clark Five – It’s tempting to celebrate a British invasion that goes beyond The Beatles (and, later, the Stones, Animals, and Who). The story goes that Dave Clark and his four friends were the Fab Four’s top competition in ’64 and ’65 when “Glad All Over” and “Catch Us If You Can” dropped. Even if that’s true, they weren’t exactly worthy competition for The Beatles’ early work, and when the four evolved, the Five just kept making the same simple pop.

Dion – “Runaround Sue” is one of the all-time great earworms, and hearing “Born to Be With You”, Dion’s 1975 comeback album, was almost enough to win him a spot, but it’s hard to take a guy seriously when his two big hits were about a girl who should be shamed for dating other guys and a male narrator congratulating himself for dating a lot of girls.

Fats Domino – Like so many of rock’s progenitors, Domino made his mark with a few massive hits: the great “Ain’t That a Shame” and the eerily similar “Blueberry Hill”, but there’s not much more to speak of in his catalog.

John Lee Hooker – One of the toughest lines to draw was between the bluesmen of the late ’50s and early ’60s. Muddy Waters and Albert King made the cut, primarily for their role in bridging the blues and rock. Hooker and B.B. King fell short, primarily because their songwriting ability didn’t match their guitar skills. Both are worth of inclusion as Early Influencers.

Gladys Knight & the Pips – What’s your second-favorite Gladys Knight song? The expanded edition of their most heralded album, “Imagination”, includes four different cuts of the divine “Midnight Train to Georgia”. The only other bonus track is the single version of a song called “Window Raisin’ Granny”, which is good enough to justify a long look, but like the rest of the group’s work, not necessarily hall-caliber.

Joan Jett & The Blackhearts – The Hall needs more women who rocked. Joan Jett fits the bill and, as such, is a worthy inclusion. The problem for me is that, with the exception of the righteous punk of “Bad Reputation”, there’s a sheen on her music that reeks of the ’80s. I prefer spidery basement fare from the same era like Siouxsie and the Banshees and X.

B.B. King – I’ll admit that he did what he did better than just about anyone ever has. What he did, though, doesn’t resonate with me the way some of his more rock-friendly peers did.

Todd Rundgren – There are moments – “I Saw the Light”, “Hello It’s Me” – when his music approached pop perfection, but a Runt album is a slog through various styles and experiments. A rewarding experience, I’m sure, for a true fan, but to an outsider, it’s not how I want to spend an hour.

Sam and Dave – “Hold On, I’m Comin'” is close to automatic qualification, but beyond that, Sam and Dave gave us “Soul Man” and not much else.

Santana – I like to think Santana was inducted in the ’90s based on their genre-defying late ’60s and early ’70s work and then booted for the hideous cash grab “Supernatural” that poisoned radio airwaves for half a decade.

Bob Seger – I’m a sucker for Seger’s hard-charging “Hollywood Nights” and rousing “Still the Same”, but he feels more like a right-place, right-time guy who filled the classic rock void as disco and punk vied for supremacy. I was close to putting him in when my wife described him as “a solo Eagle”. Hit the showers, kid; you’re cut.

James Taylor – I’m not a James Taylor hater, but I grew up with his greatest hits on heavy rotation and for every transcendent “Fire and Rain”, there’s a clunky “Steamroller” or a cloying “Shower the People”. If those were the greatest hits…

The Rest

Joan Baez

Hank Ballard

Bon Jovi

Cheap Trick

Jimmy Cliff

Eddie Cochran

Alice Cooper

Bobby Darin

Deep Purple

Def Leppard

The Dells

Depeche Mode

Bo Diddley

The Doobie Brothers

Eagles

Earth, Wind, & Fire

Duane Eddy

The Flamingos

Foo Fighters

The Four Seasons

Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers

Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five

The Grateful Dead

Buddy Guy

Bill Haley & His Comets

Whitney Houston

Janet Jackson

Journey

KISS

Brenda Lee

Jerry Lee Lewis

Little Anthony & The Imperials

The Lovin’ Spoonful

Lynyrd Skynyrd

Clyde McPhatter

John (Cougar) (Mellencamp)

The Moonglows

Ricky Nelson

Laura Nyro

The O’Jays

Paul Butterfield Blues Band

Carl Perkins

Gene Pitney

Rascals

Jimmy Reed

The Righteous Brothers

Del Shannon

Percy Sledge

The Staple Singers

Steve Miller Band

Donna Summer

Big Joe Turner

Ritchie Valens

Van Halen

Stevie Ray Vaughan

The Ventures

Gene Vincent

Bobby Womack

ZZ Top

This group encompasses artists I appreciate, but don’t love enough to overcome the distance between their music and my concept of rock & roll (Joan Baez, Janet Jackson, Whitney Houston), artists who made great music but not for long enough (Bo Diddley, The Flamingos, Ritchie Valens), strange choices by the R&R HoF that just don’t seem to measure up (Bobby Darin, Duane Eddy, The Ventures), and groups whose inclusion makes sense given their mass appeal but whose music makes me wish I were deaf (Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Journey).

The overriding theme, if there is one, is that many of these acts performed in the ’50s and ’60s, which are overrepresented in Cleveland. My additions largely represent the decades that haven’t been picked though yet – most notably the ’90s. Stay tuned.

In case you missed the introduction, the next few posts will compile my personal rock & roll hall of greatness, the 239 artists I find most worthy of induction. Let’s get a few ground rules out of the way:

1. I’ll stick with the real hall’s rule that an act must have debuted at least 25 years ago to be eligible. I started this project in December 2021, so a release in or before 1996 is a must.
2. Volume matters. Derek & The Dominos and Jeff Buckley each released one brilliant album, but neither accumulated enough great output to make my hall. On the other hand, a group like N.W.A, which only released two albums, but whose members continued to release fantastic work after their breakup, can be inducted as a collective. This treatment feels consistent with Cleveland, though I’ll use it a bit more liberally.
3. Rock & Roll matters. Miles Davis is the only member of the real hall I would identify as a jazz musician. His fusion work in the late ’60s and early ’70s certainly impacted the shape of rock. Johnny Cash is the only artist I’d call a country singer. On the other hand, rock and country have blurred their boundaries over the past 70+ years more than rock and jazz, with inductees from Ray Charles to Lynyrd Skynyrd employing country strategies in their music. My inductees will hew close to the bass, drums, guitar/piano, and voice formula that came to define rock & roll, using the Potter Stewart rule (I know rock & roll when I hear it) when necessary. These artists would absolutely have made my hall if not for this rule:
   • Cannonball Adderley
   • Mulatu Astatke
   • Chet Baker
   • Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers
   • Alice Coltrane
   • John Coltrane
   • Brian Eno
   • Charles Mingus

Enough rules. Let’s get started. 155 artists inducted in Cleveland also make my hall. I’ll split them into two groups: The no-doubters (presented without comment) and the close calls (with some explanation).

The No-Doubters (98 acts)

The Allman Brothers Band

The Animals

The Band

The Beach Boys

The Beatles

Chuck Berry

Black Sabbath

Blondie

Booker T & the MGs

David Bowie

James Brown

The Byrds

The Cars

Johnny Cash

Ray Charles

Chicago

The Clash

Leonard Cohen

Sam Cooke

Elvis Costello

Cream

Creedence Clearwater Revival

Crosby, Stills, & Nash

The Cure

Miles Davis

Dire Straits

The Doors

The Drifters

Bob Dylan

Fleetwood Mac

The Four Tops

Aretha Franklin

Marvin Gaye

Genesis

Al Green

Isaac Hayes

Jimi Hendrix

Buddy Holly & the Crickets

Isley Brothers

Michael Jackson

The Jackson 5

Jay-Z

Etta James

Elton John

Janis Joplin

Carole King

The Kinks

Led Zeppelin

John Lennon

Little Richard

Madonna

Bob Marley

Curtis Mayfield & The Impressions

Metallica

Joni Mitchell

Van Morrison

Nirvana

Parliament/Funkadelic

Pearl Jam

Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Pink Floyd

The Platters

The Police

Elvis Presley

Pretenders

Prince

Public Enemy

Queen

Radiohead

Ramones

Otis Redding

R.E.M.

Smokey Robinson & The Miracles

The Rolling Stones

The Ronettes

Roxy Music

Rush

The Shirelles

Simon & Garfunkel

Nina Simone

Sly & The Family Stone

Small Faces/The Faces

Patti Smith

Dusty Springfield

Bruce Springsteen

Steely Dan

Cat Stevens

The Stooges

The Supremes

Talking Heads

The Temptations

U2

The Velvet Underground

Tom Waits

The Who

Stevie Wonder

Neil Young

Frank Zappa

The Close Calls (57 acts)

2Pac – I’m glad the real Hall has embraced hip hop, as mainstream rock & roll over the past few decades has been a white-dominated space. Public Enemy was the most impactful early hip hop act and, as such, was an easy call for my hall. It’s no surprise 2Pac and Biggie, each of whom left enormous impact in a way-too-short career, were among the first inducted. I would have prioritized Eric B & Rakim, A Tribe Called Quest, and OutKast, each of whom had a bigger body of work and simply appealed to me more, but 2Pac is a worthy inclusion.

ABBA – ABBA’s not a frequent flyer on my Spotify account, but the group’s unique talents brought the world a lot of joy. I’m not leaving the room if someone plays “Take a Chance on Me” or “Waterloo”.

AC/DC – Late ’70s/early ’80s hard rock isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse, but there’s a magnetism to AC/DC that’s hard to ignore. “You Shook Me All Night Long” told us they weren’t going to stray too far from the Led Zeppelin template, but they were going to have a hell of a time while they were in the neighborhood.

Aerosmith – As with so many groups we’ll celebrate in these pages, let’s forget what happened in the ’80s. In this case, we also need to forget what happened in the ’90s. For a few years in the mid ’70s, though, Aerosmith carried a torch while the art form was at risk of fading to black.

Lavern Baker – Baker hit the scene in ’53, introducing a hard-charging sound that Jerry Lee Lewis did his best to recreate (but fell short, in my opionion), dropped a solid EP every year in the late ’50s, and then peaked in ’63 with the scrumptious “See See Rider”. That’s enough, if barely so.

Beastie Boys – Part of me wants to chalk the Beastie Boys up to brazen cultural appropriators who owe 90% of their success to their Black forebears. Another part thinks they’re perhaps the group most responsible for bringing white audiences to hip hop, bridging cultures by sampling mostly white music within a mostly Black genre as well as anyone has ever done.

Bee Gees – This is a (reluctant?) nod both to the soft classic rock the group mastered in the late ’60s and early ’70s – the Australian response to the British invasion – and the disco group who made some of the most memorable hits of the otherwise barren late ’70s.

Bobby “Blue” Bland – For years, Bland to me was “Two Steps of the Blues” and not much else. A trip to Memphis showed me the enormous influence Bland had on the local blues scene and, in turn, American blues. He’s a giant, and even if he weren’t, “Two Steps” – both the song and the album – is worthy of induction.

Ruth Brown – On her ’57 debut, Brown dropped “Teardrops From My Eyes”, “Mama He Treats Your Daughter Mean”, and “5-10-15 Hours” over the course of four tracks. Her soul-imbued R&B was as important to the birth of rock as anything Fats Domino or Bo Diddley recorded.

Buffalo Springfield – A two-album career is light for hall of fame induction, but the first one included “For What It’s Worth”, the second was the divine “Buffalo Springfield Again”, and the band gave the world Stephen Stills and Neil Young. That’s the stuff of legend.

Solomon Burke – If you’ve read Time Decorated, you know Burke authored one of my ten favorite songs. Between his early ’60s heyday and his early 2000s revival, he makes the grade.

The Coasters – Pre-’65 groups tended to be more singles-focused, and that’s certainly the case with The Coasters, but the group that dropped “Down In Mexico”, “Yakety Yak”, “Poison Ivy”, “Little Egypt”, and “Along Came Jones” doesn’t need a classic LP to qualify here.

Neil Diamond – Go ahead and laugh. “I Am, I Said”, “Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show”, and “Cracklin’ Rosie” were good enough for the voters and they’re good enough for me.

Donovan – Donovan was probably more prolific in the mid-to-late ’60s than he should have been, dropping eleven studio albums between ’65 and ’68, several of which came before he escaped Bob Dylan’s shadow and carved out his own sound. Once he found that sound, though, and started giving us songs like “Sunshine Superman”, “Season of the Witch”, and “Hurdy Gurdy Man”, that volume of output was a blessing.

Dr. John – Those outside New Orleans fortunate enough to venture within earshot of “Gris Gris” heard such a left-field masterpiece that Dr. John’s ’70s reinvention in the vein of Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart only added to his legend. He kept releasing albums until his death in 2019, working within such a niche that many weren’t introduced to him until he appeared on “The Princess and the Frog” soundtrack in 2009.

Electric Light Orchestra – Perhaps the most opportunistic Beatles plagiarists between The Monkees and Oasis, ELO’s interpretation was faithful enough that Beatles fans may have felt like the group was back in the late ’70s and supplemental enough that their best albums are still worth a listen today.

Everly Brothers – They sound awful schmaltzy sixty years later, but the brothers’ biggest hits are still ubiquitous for a reason. “Bye Bye Love” and “Cathy’s Clown” provided a template for the great artists of the ’60s.

Peter Gabriel – Does Gabriel need to be inducted as a solo artist when Genesis is already in the Hall? In this case, I think the justification is in the massive difference between the band’s output and the individual’s. Could Genesis have recorded “Don’t Give Up”, “Solsbury Hill” or “In Your Eyes”?

The Go-Go’s – I almost excluded them just for that awful grocer’s apostrophe, but the group that will become the first all-female band inducted in Cleveland this year dropped just enough generation-defining singles to make the cut.

Green Day – Probably the first artist inducted to the Hall of Fame with whose music I grew up. “Dookie” was a delightful piece of juvenile punk. “American Idiot” was a surprisingly mature statement that rallied a generation around a political cause. Their output in between and thereafter was spotty, but those two albums and their cultural impact are enough for me.

Guns N’ Roses – I’m a few years too young to know any dyed-in-the-wool GNR fans, but even the GNR-agnostics in my life seem to have one moment with which they identify, whether it’s the “November Rain” video, the epic cover of “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door”, or the speaker-rattling blast of noise that opens “Welcome to the Jungle”. For me, it’s Slash’s guitar work on “Sweet Child O’ Mine”.

Hall and Oates – I honestly can’t tell you whether I like Hall and Oates. I can’t tell you whether they were good. But it’s hard to listen to a hits collection without smiling – maybe even laughing – through every song. Give it to ’em. Give ’em everything.

George Harrison – George was inducted when The Beatles were, so his induction as a solo artist feels a little redundant. For this project, I held solo artists who emerged from Hall of Fame groups to a higher standard to make the most of my self-imposed 239-artist limit. It’s not enough that George was the first Beatle I became familiar with when “Got My Mind Set On You” dropped in 1987, but it helps that “All Things Must Pass” is probably the best album made by any former Beatle.

Heart – There aren’t enough women in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in large part because the women who have made great music over the past 65 years haven’t stuck to the formula men created. In Heart, we have an absolute behemoth making straightforward rock and roll. Put ’em in.

The Hollies – It may be redundant that Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young, and just about every other band they played for in the ’60s and early ’70s is honored separately, but the authors of “Bus Stop”, “Carrie-Anne”, and “Long Cool Woman (In a Black Dress)”, who happen to include Graham Nash, are worthy of enshrinement.

Jefferson Airplane – Their legacy hangs on one album, but “Surrealistic Pillow” is so synonymous with the ’60s and the hippie movement that they didn’t need much more. Hits like “Volunteers” and epics like “Feel So Good” from other albums tipped the scales for me.

Billy Joel – I’m not alone in having a love-hate relationship with the piano man. He certainly made some bad music. He also wrote and performed 50 songs you know by heart and most of them put you in a better mood than you were in before the listen. He’s good enough.

Albert King – The blues greats tend to be better fits for the Early Influencers wing of the Hall, rather than Performers. King’s work with Stax in the mid-’60s and his direct influence on The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin make him more than just a bluesman and a better fit for my hall than some of his peers.

Little Willie John – I had never heard of Little Willie John before I started studying the R&R HoF a few years ago. I’m glad I gave him a shot, as “Fever” sucked me in and “I’m Shakin'” and “Need Your Love So Bad” further proved his mettle. He could be on the cut line in future years if I need to drop someone.

The Mamas & the Papas – Another short run, but “California Dreamin'”, “Monday, Monday”, “Dedicated to the One I Love”, and “Creeque Alley” are enough to put them in.

Martha and the Vandellas – They were far more prolific than you may have noticed given the outsized share of attention “Heat Wave” and “Dancing In the Street” get. Another one on the cut line.

Paul McCartney – …and Linda and Wings and all his many reinventions over the past five decades. I much prefer John’s and George’s solo output, but there’s plenty of good music to recommend Paul.

The Moody Blues – From R&B roots-rockers to prog rock pioneers to ’80s goobers, the Blues had something for… well… a lot of us, if not everybody.

Muddy Waters – If not for his seminal “Rollin’ Stone”, the genre, one of its best bands, one of its best songs, and its most venerable publication may all have different names. A pretty great album in ’64 justifies including him here in addition to the Early Influencers wing.

Randy Newman – Randy Newman, rock star? Well, kind of. His run of politically charged folk-punk albums in the early ’70s impressed seems to have impressed the right Disney executives. I’m not sure which iteration of Newman impressed the Hall voters.

Nine Inch Nails – “Head Like a Hole” was a monumental opening statement. Their albums aren’t perfect, but they’ve persevered for three decades while staying consistently ahead of the game. My last choice, but I could be convinced they’re more worthy than that.

N.W.A. (as a collective) – Dr. Dre and Ice Cube have resumes comparable to 2Pac and Biggie. Why haven’t they found their way to Cleveland? Skeptically, it’s probably because they didn’t die young enough to get the voters’ attention. My justification is that N.W.A. is in my hall as a collective, their two earth-shattering records combining with Dre’s and Cube’s (and Eazy’s and D.O.C.’s, I guess) to form a hall-worthy catalog.

Notorious B.I.G. – Larger than life in every way. He gets the Addie Joss exemption for sufficient quality to offset lack of quantity.

Roy Orbison – I’ve never been impressed by a full Roy Orbison album, but I chalk that up to the era and the state of the industry, which demanded a product to surround each hit single. It’s the singles – notably “Crying”, “In Dreams”, and “Only the Lonely” – that put him on this page.

Wilson Pickett – Speaking of singles, “In the Midnight Hour”, “Mustang Sally”, and “Land of 1000 Dances” catapult Pickett into my hall. His cover of “Hey Jude” is an epic bonus.

Lloyd Price – See Little Willie John. Price came along a little later, dropping his debut just after the music died in a plane crash in Iowa, but “Lawdy Miss Clawdy” and “Stagger Lee” pop a similar punch, punching his ticket to my hall (at least for now) and that other one.

Bonnie Raitt – I’m not sure either of her two distinct careers – the folk-country run of the early ’70s or the pop-rock revival of the late ’80s/early ’90s – is worth a spot in my hall, but put together, there’s a lot of great output.

Red Hot Chili Peppers – Sure, they’ve wrote the same song for thirty years, but the moments when they were at their best – “Under the Bridge”, “Californication”, and “By the Way” among them – are as thrilling as any modern group’s best work.

Lou Reed – “Transformer” and “New York” are pretty good, but I almost want to induct Reed twice just for his role in The Velvet Underground’s four-year run.

Linda Ronstadt – While “Blue Bayou” and “You’re No Good” match any ’70s soft rock crooner’s best, Ronstadt’s ’60s work with Stone Poneys may be necessary to put her over the top.

Run-D.M.C. – I don’t spin Run-D.M.C. records for fun, but they kind of invented rap, so I didn’t have the heart to kick them out.

Sex Pistols/Public Image Ltd. – Sex Pistols are in Cleveland on the strength of a single album. I’m more comfortable putting them in as a unit with their spinoff group, who kept shocking into the late ’80s.

Paul Simon – His early ’70s work is solid, evoking his undeniably hall-worthy work with Art Garfunkel. The world music revival in the ’80s justifies a second induction.

T. Rex – As glam bands go, inducting Kiss ahead of T. Rex is one of the Hall’s lamer moves. That injustice was corrected only in 2020, when T. Rex finally got in a year after Roxy Music did.

Traffic – *Another* white classic rock jam band? Well, their first four albums were pretty fantastic.

Tina Turner – Tina will be inducted as a solo artist in 2022, 31 years after she and her abusive ex-husband were inducted as a duo. While I could have combined the two entities to free up a spot, I’d rather just honor Tina’s solo work, which roars with newfound freedom. Ike can buy a ticket.

Jackie Wilson – “(You’re Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher” is as close to an automatic qualifier as any song I’ve heard.

Bill Withers – His albums weren’t without filler, but at his peak (“Ain’t No Sunshine”, “Use Me”, “Lovely Day”, “Lean On Me”), Withers was among the best in the game.

The Yardbirds – I’m not as charitable with Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck as solo artists, but The Yardbirds rocked as hard and played as skillfully as anyone in the mid ’60s.

Yes – If you’re not a prog rock fan or in the mood to hear keyboards rattling around outer space, Yes are a tough sell, but their work in ’71 and ’72 alone put them over the top for me.

The Zombies – Had they not released “She’s Not There” three years earlier, I might have chalked this group up to a one-album wonder. There’s so much to love on “Odessey and Oracle” that they only needed a tiny bump to supplement it.

Let’s start here: The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame probably shouldn’t exist. We’ll get back to that later.

First, baseball. Adam Darowski’s Hall of Stats might be my favorite place to spend an hour or two on the whole damn internet. The premise is simple, but ingenious: “The Hall of Stats shows us what the Hall of Fame would look like if we removed all 239 inductees and replaced them with the top 239 eligible players in history, according to a mathematical formula.”

There are those who resist the role analytics have come to play in baseball, but the truth is that what happens on a baseball field is quantifiable. The game may be aesthetically pleasing like art, but an account of the results thereof is science. A credit on one player’s ledger is a debit on another’s. No formula could perfectly select the best players ever to play the game, but the roster based on a formula is far more representative of the game’s all-time greats than the one chosen by writers and players and executives over the past eight-plus decades.

Music, on the other hand, is unquestionably art. To attempt to find objectivity in art is to strip it of its connection to the individual. Sure, we could develop a formula reflecting record sales and chart positions. We might even be able to find a way to quantify innovation and/or influence. But the results of that search would fit better in a record executive hall of fame than one devoted to art. Maybe that building exists in Delaware or something, but I’ll pass.

I suppose a Rock & Roll Hall of Fame consisting of the 239 acts who sold the most records would be mildly interesting. According to chartmaster.org, the 11 top-selling artists have all been inducted in Cleveland (sorry, #12 Celine Dion). Consensus speaks to some tangible quality. It’s not long before that list gets to Bryan Adams and Shania Twain, though. I’m sure I’m not alone in my gratitude that RRHOF voters saw past sales and inducted The Velvet Underground and The Stooges before those two and The Monkees.

Herein lies the problem with the Rock Hall. Each year, industry experts convene to nominate and vote on a slate of candidates. By nature, different art will appeal to different listeners. Recognizing this, voters are presumably tasked with something other than voting for their favorite artists. Rather, they attempt to identify those who contributed to the zeitgeist.

Somewhere. At some time.

The Foo Fighters recently got in, which suggests to me that a critical mass of voters had a certain nostalgia for the late nineties. Well, maybe the late nineties in white communities. I have no beef with the Foo Fighters, and in fact they rank 113th all time in sales, so it’s hard to deny that The People (TM) find them worthy. But those same people didn’t have the same nostalgia for OutKast, who, in my opinion, made music that stood out much further from that of their peers than anything the Foo Fighters recorded. The zeitgeist argument is in OutKast’s favor as well, given the shift from rock to hop hop as the dominant force in youth culture in those years. You may argue that hip hop isn’t rock and therefore isn’t fit for this hall, but since Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five were inducted, the Hall’s doors have opened to another seven rap acts, including Jay-Z this year. More on this in later posts.

The Hall of Stats, to some extent, tells us who should be in the Baseball Hall of Fame and who shouldn’t. I’m not here to tell you who should be in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame because I experience music differently than you do and the general music-buying population is probably not on the same page with either of us. Instead, I’m going to spend a few blog posts telling you who would make *my* Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. These artists speak to me.

You may have noticed the number 239 showing up a few times earlier in this post. That’s the population of the Hall of Stats, which is a little lighter than the Baseball Hall of Fame, which includes players who primarily played in the Negro Leagues, so their statistical records aren’t complete enough for the Hall of Stats’ formula to be fair to them. Remarkably, this year’s class of Rock & Roll Hall of Famers will bring the total population of the Performers wing (excluding Early Influencers) to… 239.

When the stars align like this, we have to run with it. Over the next several blog posts, I’ll compile my personal rock & roll hall of greatness with the 239 performers I find most worthy.

What’s fun about locking my hall to the size of the actual hall is that it will need to be adjusted every year. If Cleveland inducts seven acts in 2022 and I find six artists who debuted in 1997 worthy of my hall, I get to go back to my cut line and a near-miss (The Gun Club was my last cut). If Cleveland only inducts five and I want to add six newly eligibles, I have to cut someone currently in my hall (Nine Inch Nails were my last choice, but I’d spend some more time with this to get it right).

In upcoming posts, I’ll list:

-members of the R&R HoF who also made my hall

-members of the R&R HoF who didn’t make my hall

-artists in my hall who aren’t in the R&R HoF

I hope you’ll join me on this ride.