We Need the Weird

The induction ceremony for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame went forward on October 30. While I generally think that the whole concept of a Rock Hall of Fame is anti-Rock and Roll, and suggests little, if anything, about rock greatness, I still like to see who is being inducting and who is left out. It’s especially interesting now that most of the obvious inductees have been in the Hall for quite a while.   

This year’s inductees are a typically mixed bag. I am glad to see Tina Turner make it, especially when the Hall inducted a much less talented and influential Stevie Nicks a couple of years ago. You have to admire Todd Rundgren, though his overall output is spotty. I enjoyed the Go-Go’s, but did they do anything after Beauty and the Beat? Not that I know of. 

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With the inductions come the inevitable complaining about Hall snubs. Kiss member Gene Simmons called it disgusting that Rage Against the Machine and Iron Maiden didn’t make it this year. Personally, I think that it’s disgusting that a band like Kiss, better known for their faux-goth make-up and Simmons ginormous tongue than their music, is in there.   

To my mind, there is one snub that outweighs them all. One snub that pushes the Hall to the edge of irrelevance. One snub that should make the current inductees blush with shame. I am, of course, taking about Weird Al Jankovic.  

Starting with the immortal My Bologna in 1979, through 1986’s Fat, 1993’s Bedrock Anthem and 2006’s White & Nerdy, Weird Al has provided us with some of the most unforgettable rock anthems of the last 40 years. Can any of us listen to Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit without picturing Al trying to sing with marbles in his mouth on Smells Like Nirvana? Isn’t the Dire Straits Money for Nothing that much better with Al’s converting it into a tribute to the Beverley Hillbillies? 

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Some may complain that Al doesn’t write his own songs, but that ignores his incredible polka output. Who else can find the common polka heart in such songs as LA Woman, Smoke on the Water and Hey Jude as Al did with the Polkas on 45 masterpiece? And let’s face it, Bohemian Polka more than rivals Queens Bohemian Rhapsody for audacity and musicianship.  

I am the first to admit that Al’s career has not been without controversy, but isn’t that part of Rock stardom? I do wonder whether his continuing snub is tied directly to his squabble with Coolio over the exquisite Amish Paradise. Apparently, Coolie did not appreciate the brilliance of this piece (who else can write lyric’s like “I’m a man of the land, I’m into discipline. Got a Bible in my hand and a beard on my chin. But if I finish all of my chores and you finish thine, Then tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 1699”), and took affront. But similar controversy’s (alright, maybe not similar) have not kept Ringo Starr (33-year-old men shouldn’t be singing You’re Sixteen, Richard) or Genesis (Nice Latino accent on Illegal Alien, Phil) out. 

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Many of you may think that I am kidding about this nomination, but I am not (or at least not entirely). Rock and Roll is at its worst when it gets pretentious (the same can probably be said about this Blog). And that is from someone who is a big prog rock fan (Yes to Yes). Weird Al is the antidote to that pretention. 

Let’s face it, for all of the hullabaloo about rock stars being artists, 90% of rock lyrics are downright inane. The Hall already has plenty of examples, such as “You say ‘black’ I say ‘white’. You say ‘bark’ I say ‘bite. You say ‘shark’ I say ‘hey man ‘Jaws’ was never my scene’” (Queen, Bicycle Race) or “Bonafide ride, step aside my johnson. Yes I could in the woods of Wisconsin”. (Red Hot Chili Peppers, Around the World). Weird Al’s “Have some more Yogurt. Have some more spam. It doesn’t matter if it’s fresh or canned. Just eat it. Eat it! Eat it!” is no less frivolous than “Showin how funky and strong is your fight. It doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right. Just beat it (beat it, beat it, beat it)” from the King of Pop. I could go on, but you get the point. 

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Faced with this kind of junk from feted artists, we need someone to confront the silliness. We need someone to step up and cleverly point out again and again that rock and roll is something to enjoy. Something to bop your head to. Something to bring a smile to your face and a bounce to your step. And Weird Al is that man. 

There is no place on earth that needs this lesson more than the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They want to be the gatekeeper to the realms of rock royalty. But the whole concept of rock royalty is heretical. At its heart rock is a bunch of kids in a garage banging away on their instruments trying to come up with something that their parents will hate and people will dance to. Weird Al embodies that spirit like no one else. 

There’s my argument. Next year we must all unite to get Al into the Hall. Only then will it fulfill its mission to truly reflect the essence of rock and roll. It’s drive. It’s joy. It’s power. And, yes, it’s wackiness. It’s daftness. It’s zaniness. All hail Rock-and-Roll. All hail Weird Al Yankovic.