
Over time, the magazine became just another cog in the fabled star-making machine. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the most obvious manifestation of Wenner's expensive variety of hero worship, serves less as a venue that honors the art of rock and roll or the many brilliant kinds of music that make up it's crazy-quilt brilliance, but rather a tourist attraction,a commodified think rendered inert; this is a situation where all the rude brilliance and raucous expression is past tense, things that happened, never to return. Instead of yelling tripe when tripe was served, RS became the unruly gruel shoveled onto the plate.I gave up on this bullshit when the inductions began to include artists and bands who have done nothing to warrant a so-called "hall of fame" level of greatness and influence. Miller is blunt, very blunt, and effectively pulls the covers from this bunch of fat cat corporate assholes who make a big deal about the rebel nature of rock and roll while acting like conservative execs protecting their bottom line. Rock and Roll isn't dead, I suppose, but the mummification of the art by the RRHOF doesn't speak well of how healthy or vital it might presently is, or might be again.
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