Like buzzards circling over Hinckley Lake, it's time again for the annual get-off-my-lawnism debate about the current batch of Rock Hall nominees, as if it isn't already more than predictable after how many years of this, post-freedom-rocking boomers. Inevitably, there is a disco act, and in the last five years, a hip-hop act, and some 60's bubblegum pop group that I've never heard of.
Because this city is still stuck somewhere in the vortex of 1975-1987, one would think that the most pressing issue affecting the average Clevelander is not corruption, a craptastic economy, and failing schools, but that their favorite somewhat dorky 70's prog bands aren't liked by people in New York who don't even care that we the relative yokels exist. Still, there seems to be this inherent need within the rustbelt to be validated by the arbiters of some strange standard of cool on either coast, which isn't all that cool anyway, considering that these are people are mostly industry hacks and hangers-on.
While these debates make for slightly less divisive conversation than politics over morning coffee, it's a source of amusement to read the comments on Cleveland.com and visualize all these grown men (I'm assuming they're mostly dudes older than me, sorry male species!) getting angry on the Internet due to the perceived snubbing of Emerson, Lake, and Palmer.
It's also amusing to me to read comments referring to Metallica as a "Poor Man's Led Zeppelin" and Rush as "a garage band that plays the same cord over and over again," and why is Parliament-Funkadelic in there because they don't rock because obviously they've been listening to Atomic Dog instead of Maggot Brain. Of course there's the terribly stereotypical and borderline comments about hip-hop, allegations of political correctness, the required appearance by the local legion of KISS fans, and people all but threatening to fight each other over the merits of Jethro Tull vs. Donna Summer.
Anyways, I talk tuneage with my fellow peons all the time, and it gets snarky, but it's nothing to come to fisticuffs over.