Back in the '80's, when I was a teenager, we had these artists that, no matter how popular they got, would hang around for two or three albums and then be swept to sea like so much flotsom, cast aside by the very fans whose walls were covered with their posters a year or two prior: Debbie Gibson, Tiffany, Milli Vanilli, Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam, and Samantha Fox, just to name a few.
And on the rock side, you had bands like the Vapors ("Turning Japanese") and the Knack, who, despite great initial success, were gone and not missed by the mainstream after three albums, never to be heard from again. Mind you, if the Knack were to somehow be inducted into the Rock Hall, it would be the first thing those cigar-chomping fat cats have gotten right in ages, but I digress.
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| "Here in my car, I feel safest of all.." |
But because a little band by the name of Nirvana came along, creating a perfect storm of punk anger and suburban accessibility and forever obliterating the idea that crap bands can't get signed to major labels. Now, Nirvana wasn't a crap band, but every band that got signed in their wake was. Sadly, most of those bands came from Chicago! ZING!
And, as a result, bands who would have otherwise been relegated to Vapor-like status (TWO ALBUMS AND OUT!) are putting out three albums a year when one would have been more than plenty.
When considering Green Day for the Rock Hall, did anyone with a say in the matter ask themselves, "Do we really want to reward the one band that made punk safe for mall rats and Broadway?"
It's a question that begs an answer.
Thanks to Green Day, punk has been reduced to a font, a flavor, and a fashion accessory for entitled posers who buy $400 Ramones t-shirts at John Varvatos and have no fucking idea what the place used to be.