“I had the opportunity to uncover and preserve rock’s important history, and to give the artform and its creators the long overdue respect they craved and deserved,” reflects founding Rock & Roll Hall of Fame curator Craig J. Inciardi, in his new book The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame: The Outrageous, Definitive & Untold History. “Along the way, I collected stories, lots and lots of stories.”
And what unique, sometimes bizarre, stories they are. Inciardi details the early days of the Rock Hall’s beginnings, which go all the way back to a 1983 Pay-Per-View awards-show-concert-special on the Black Tie network, intended to celebrate the history of rock. To proceed with the broadcast, a corresponding organization needed to be founded, and thusly, with the help of industry heavies like Ahmet Ertegun (co-founder and president of Atlantic Records) and up-and-comers like Suzan Evans (legal adviser to the Black Tie Network), the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame organization was born.
The actual building structure, the museum itself, and its collections of rock artefacts did not yet exist. That’s where Inciardi’s role, as founding curator, comes into the tale, once Jann Wenner—also a hall co-founder —brings him on to become “the Indiana Jones of rock history” in 1991 and curate the collection.
The most fun readers will have with Inciardi’s book is journeying with him through all his madcap adventures to build the Hall’s collection and, in the process, hang out with the who’s who of rock stars. It does inspire the reader to reconsider and reflect upon what items—and therefore which moments associated with them—and ultimately which artists—make up the story of rock music. Granted, there is much subjectivity involved, but most can agree on the essential recognition deserved by key figures that goes beyond subjectivity.
In the pursuit of acquiring artifacts, he holds a brief meeting with Ozzy and Sharon Osborne at their UK estate to discuss contributions, which is cut short by Ozzy’s abrupt and dramatic exit through a window. This proved to be his way of handling his emotional response to the mention of deceased bandmate Randy Rhoads. Later on, Inciardi comes across a collection of Billie Holiday’s belongings in a suitcase, including some glamorous clothing and empty Ritalin bottles.
At one point, Inciardi has the opportunity to discuss with Led Zeppelin’s Robert Plant the possibility of contributing their written lyrics to “Stairway to Heaven,” which Plant ultimately refuses to do, feeling it would give all of the song’s magical energy and mystery away. There are also a plethora of stories behind the yearly induction ceremonies, as well as the annual behind-the-scenes drama—such as the rift that developed between legends Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne, and Prince, during the George Harrison tribute portion of that year’s broadcast.
Cultural beacons like New York City and Los Angeles may have been the more obvious choices. But it was Cleveland, Ohio, that was selected as the location for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Why Cleveland? Well, the city does have a luminous rock past, given its association with local WJW DJ Alan Freed, who first brought the term “rock and roll” into the vernacular.
Primarily, though, Cleveland’s governmental leaders lobbied for the Rock Hall to be built in the city and promised tens of millions of dollars in funding if it were to be constructed there. And why found a hall of fame for rock and roll in the first place? To create a physical footprint of assumed permanence, an homage to a genre that thrived upon the opposite—consistent newness and changing trends from its popularization in the 1950s and out into the coming few decades.
In some ways, as the establishment of Wenner’s Rolling Stone magazine did, the Hall played a significant role in the ongoing “legitimization” of rock and roll. A sense of jealousy may arise in the reader when learning about the vast and varied options of inductees in the Hall’s earliest years, in comparison to nowadays, as the Hall’s voters stretch and morph the musical requirements for artists inducted to allow for newer and less rock-forward musicians to come on in. But at that point—which we have already passed by now—the Hall’s title of “Rock & Roll” should consider rebranding itself.
Throughout his book, Inciardi muses on the changes the hall’s leadership underwent over the years, such as when veteran Bruce Springsteen manager Jon Landau assumed a more powerful role, and the tone of inductees slightly changed. Landau was, perhaps smartly from a business perspective, seeking to bring newer and younger artists into the Hall’s activities and induction ceremony performances—even if that meant venturing further away from the genre of rock and roll in the process.
Throughout his narrative, Inciardi achieves an admirable balance between levity, articulating loving appreciation for the Spinal Tap! moments he lives through with musical idols in real time, and a simultaneous deep reverence for rock and roll history. And by the tale’s completion, one is left with the sense that by preserving this history, the Hall and its makers—including Inciardi—have successfully enabled much of the genre’s tangibility to be studied and appreciated for centuries to come.
