SIVACRACY.NET

The world’s least successful online poll is as complete as it’s gonna be, as Sivacracy finally has a quixotic inductee and exile from the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame. I originally promised results at critical mass, but we’ll have to settle for separation, as the last inbox ballot split a long deadlock to push San Antonio sound pioneer Doug Sahm past Los Angeles punk-rock standard-bearers X.
The out vote reached more of a consensus. Power of suggestion may have influenced the early ballots, as the Vote the Piano Man Off the Island headline helped propel Billy Joel to an early lead. However, Captain Jack was pushed off his special island by the ultimate beautiful loser, Bob Seger, who led throughout most of the polling and wound up with a one-vote edge over Joel and The Eagles.
Of course, just because Seger was the top vote-getter does not necessarily mean he is-- even by the considerations of our limited survey-- the nadir of the Hall of Fame. Voters were invited to dismiss as many of the non-deserving as they chose, and only one respondent limited himself to one (“Ike Turner, on principle,” if you’re curious). Sure, I voted for Seger, but he wasn’t anywhere near the top of my priority list (hear that, James Taylor?). In my book, he’s got as many hits in the tolerable-or-better range than Joel, Taylor, and post-Beatles McCartney put together. (That shouldn’t stamp a ticket to the pantheon; you could say the same of Steve Miller or The Gap Band.) Still, Seger’s widespread appeal for removal isn’t too surprising: he lacks the pretensions of Billy Joel (who doesn’t), the pretensions he does have tend toward the clumsily maudlin (remember Turn the Page?), and his blue-collar affectations come off as more pedestrian than his close competitors.
In all, forty-three inductees (all from the main performer list except Dick Clark) received walking papers from someone. Nineteen earned more than one vote, led by Seger (6), Billy Joel and The Eagles (5), and Jackson Browne (4). Three people voted to oust Rod Stewart, James Taylor, the Bee Gees, The Young Rascals, and Queen. Of the ten who received two votes, most notable were solo Paul, George, and Eric Clapton. Most questionable was Miles Davis, presumably on “non-rock” grounds—which I find absurd and specious. However, in grateful charity to my voters, I’ll concede mitigating factors such as (1) the absolutely horrible jazz-rock fusion Miles wrought by unimaginative spawn and (2) the Pandora’s box created by letting him in. After all, they’ve had 20 years to induct him and he’s in the most recent class, which tells me more than anything else that they’re straining for viable candidates.
So look for Willie Nelson and George Jones in the near future, if not Sunny Ade and Fela Kuti. To all of which I say Amen. Besides the fact that any of the aforementioned, allegedly tangential artists would be the top of their class, rock ‘n’ roll is not limited to bands who sound like Black Sabbath and Lynyrd Skynryd (subgenre icons who had to wait awhile for the Hall call; each garnered one vote from our survey). In pre-research, I stumbled on a ridiculous article indicating that Buddy Guy, however great, should not technically qualify. Talk about not doing your background check, no matter how limited a definition of rock ‘n’ roll you care to adopt. Certainly, picking Miles at this late stage is a desperate ploy for credibility, but it simultaneously jibes with the expansive definition I’ve always endorsed. So bring on Willie and Loretta (and Gilberto Gil and Franco and LL as well, hell). They’ve done a lot worse, and they’re sure to do worse yet.
We had two votes against AC/DC (obviously from people who either hadn’t listened to You Shook Me All Night Long and Highway to Hell in awhile, or perhaps had heard them on the radio every day for way too many years). Most of the other double votes went to generally likable lightweights: Bobby Darin, Lovin’ Spoonful, the Mamas and the Papas, Simon and Garfunkel. Two voted out The Police, presumably because any vote against Sting is a good thing.
Clearly the voters of this poll have busy lives, because most only eliminated a few artists. Sensing that a credibility-inducing overhaul would be a truly daunting restoration project, most voters stuck to a short-list of the most egregious. Me, I voted out a survey-high 18, and I was mighty lenient. A quick perusal of the main performers list shows approximately 140 inductees, which primarily indicates that they’ve got to put on a massive televised enshrinement concert every year. Wholeheartedly, my pantheon overlaps with about 60 of theirs, charitably adjusting up to a baker’s 75 to make room for some borderlines and some legendary bands that aren’t my cup of tea.
The Hall also has its obscurities, if you’ll pardon my ignorance. I wouldn’t be so arrogant as to vote out those I was insufficiently familiar with (she was terrific in Hairspray, but I couldn’t name a Ruth Brown song without a search engine nearby) and I left in those whose one or two hits I knew seemed short of Hall quality (the Flamingos, for example). While most voters shied away from voting in artists with short yet magnificent careers (New York Dolls! Gram Parsons!), a significant number of artists were inducted for two or three songs, or in some cases one, as a perceptive voter noted with Percy Sledge.
In some cases, that’s enough, particularly in the pre-album era. We had a couple of votes for Frankie Lymon, but Why Do Fools Fall in Love and I’m Not a Juvenile Delinquent alone qualify him in my book. One voter axed the Shirelles, but I’d put them in for their historically great single, Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow b/w Boys, alone-- and that’s not by any stretch all they’ve got. Another took out Ritchie Valens, but I’d rather have his La Bamba and Come On, Let’s Go than any Fleetwood Mac album (no knock on F.Mac intended).
The poll showed a variety of tastes, as some voted out people I consider first-ballot no-brainers, especially The Grateful Dead, Bonnie Raitt, and David Bowie. The only argument to make there is that they’re long careers yielded a lot of sub-Hall of Fame material. My belief is that the peaks of all of the artists are sufficiently great and ample to offset their missteps, which in the case of the Dead and Bonnie are relatively rare. With Bowie, you do have an extended late career slide, but it doesn’t seem to lack artistic integrity in a way compared to, as several voters noted, Rod Stewart (although I might not say that if I had to listen to Let’s Dance a few times).
But even though I think it’s nuts to nix Bonnie, Bowie or the Dead, I’m glad I got mail from some who disagree (and one who, in fact, thinks the Dead should not only be excommunicated but also drowned). Instead, given the enormity of the task, most voters preserved groups whose stature/influence/longevity seemed to merit inclusion. I myself refrained from voting out some groups I don’t excessively enjoy, like the Doors, U2 and Pink Floyd, because they’ve got some decent stuff and they flat-out seem like Hall of Famers. Of the aforementioned, only U2 got a dismissal vote. Others obviously felt Crosby, Stills, and Nash deserved that type of respect; I was the only one to send them packing, a particularly easy decision since Young was not specifically included. I was one of two to oust Eric Clapton, in my case because he was already in for marginals Yardbirds and Cream, and because his solo career is almost as lame as McCartney’s. His one genuine claim to the pantheon, ironically, is not under any of those monikers; I’d ideally kick out all three of his incarnations in place of Derek and the Dominoes.
Now, about that troublesome Inbox. Forty artists received mention, but only five got more than one. Sivacracy’s enshrinee is a definite dark horse, reflecting the Tex-Mex regionality of the survey. This was far from my intention; I’d hoped for a random global inpouring from the four corners, extolling the merits of bands I’d never heard of. Instead, I received a few responses from people I didn’t know—presumably but not definitely all Americans, not a Tom Ze or Malathini vote in the bunch-- before I adopted a strategy of repeated inquiries/harassments to musically obsessive friends/acquaintances.
So Doug Sahm (encompassing a deceptively massive solo career sandwiched by Sir Douglas Quintet and Texas Tornados) won on the strength of the San Antonio boxes. Sahm’s votes were exclusively from my adopted hometown, whereas runner-up X garnered votes from three states. But homecooking and obscurity aside, Sir Douglas boasts a more than 30-year career with early knockout hits (the Quintet’s Mendocino and She’s About a Mover) and late recycled classics in the best sense by an unusually effective supergroup (the Tornados’ Who Were You Thinking Of and Is Anybody Going to San Antone?).
As I mentioned, there wasn’t much consensus after that. After Sir Douglas’ five votes and X’s four, only three artists—Gram Parsons, Los Lobos, and Warren Zevon—received multiple mentions, one from yours truly in each case. Parsons is near the top of my ballot, just under the New York Dolls (maybe the long awaited third record will put them over the top). Zevon should really be the seventies L.A. sound’s representative, knocking out his pals Jackson Browne and The Eagles. Zevon’s absence is also indicative of a lack of respect for (or lack of taste in) singer/songwriters, which was reflected in our poll as well. Despite their cult followings, the only votes for Randy Newman and John Prine came from me. Jonathan Richman and Tom Waits received one well-deserved mention from the same voter. Richard Thompson and Leonard Cohen, not a peep.
Artists who earned one vote in our poll encompassed a wide range, including Chuck Brown, Roxy Music, Squeeze, Roky Erickson, Albert King, Joy Division, Joan Jett, Donovan, Kraftwerk, Dick Dale, and Jethro Tull. AOR did well, with mentions for Van Halen, Boston, Yes, Heart, and a tongue-in-cheek vote for REO Speedwagon, based on an inside joke that’s older than the Hall of Fame itself. I’m pretty sure the lone vote for ABBA was a joke as well.
Los Lobos picked up two mentions, and they might have done better had more voters known their recording career goes back far enough to qualify (the Hall requires a 25-year waiting period from the debut album). Even though Lobos didn’t break until ’83 or ’84, they’ve got limited-release records going back to the late seventies. Others on my ballot, Lucinda Williams and The Mekons, went through similar periods of early obscurity, as did my number one entry for next year, Sonic Youth.
Which begs the next question: where does the Hall go from here? Even though I think they belong every bit as much as Springsteen or Prince, I’d be surprised if Sonic Youth gets in. On the horizon are some very deserving candidates: genre pioneer Run D.M.C., genre rejuvenator Stevie Ray Vaughan, and genre validator Madonna should shoo in during the next year or two, along with R.E.M., who in my mind ought to be more of a second-tier entry than the last titan they actually are. Nirvana aside, the fragmentation of popular music during the late eighties to the present is going to make it difficult for the Hall to put together a massive concert festivity in the years to come. My hopes are in two areas; starting with hip-hop. Public Enemy’s got a shot, but my beloved De La Soul is about as likely to get in as the New York Dolls. I’m all for Nirvana, of course, but my other inductees from the ‘90s would come from lo-fi or second wave grunge beneficiaries. Pavement and Sleater-Kinney have the best resumes, but my only hope for them is that they’re about as obscure as Ruth Brown or The Flamingos. More than likely, we’ll instead see along with the inevitable Pearl Jam and Radiohead and Green Day an increase in entries—Smashing Pumpkins? Coldplay? – about as mediocre as Bob Seger and Billy Joel.