Stewart Varner, in the following piece, provides an interesting and detailed analysis of the hegemonic processes at work in the institutionalization of memory and the creation of tradition. Using The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum in Cleveland, Ohio as his raw material, Varner embarks on a sensitive and insightful discussion ofthe canonization of the baby boomer culture and the process of incorporation as it makes "sense" out of subversion.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum: The Construction of Memories and the Sanitation of Threats [printable version]

Stewart Varner

Welcome to Rock and Roll?

<1> After numerous visits to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum in Cleveland, Ohio, I have found that the best place to start a tour is with the two films on the ground floor. Both films serve to set up narratives that run throughout the rest of the exhibits. The first film, Mystery Train, tells a traditional history of rock music's development beginning with the merging of blues, gospel and country music in large, urban centers like Chicago and encourages visitors to think of rock in terms of its continuing development through self-referencing. Kick Out the Jams, the second film, lays the foundations for discussing rock music's legacy as an anti-authoritarian voice in American culture.

<2> As someone for whom rock music has always been something of a liberating force, this second film was invigorating. It succeeded in summing up what I had felt was interesting and challenging about the music. However, I was troubled by the way Kick Out the Jams ends. As the screen fades to black and the roar of the final scene dies down, the words "Welcome to Rock and Roll" appear before the audience. Moments later, this message is replaced by another which instructs the visitors to exit to the rear. The contrast really struck me. The paradoxical juxtaposition of these message -- which are actually presented in the same stylized font -- illustrates the kinds of tensions that are evident throughout the institution. On one hand, Kick Out the Jams -- as well as a handful of other exhibits -- encourage visitors to think about rock music as a highly egalitarian voice of opposition. On the other hand, the museum's arrangement and design which tends toward celebration of celebrities often implies a distance between the performers, their music and the fans.

<3> It is this tension between rock's rebellion and the institutionalization of it that generates most casual critiques about the Rock Hall. How, some people ask, is it possible to present something as unruly and mercurial as rock and roll in such a serious and arguably intellectual institution as a history museum? However rhetorical the question may sound, the curatorial team of the Rock Hall have attempted to do just that by taking on the role of both judge and jury of the dizzyingly diverse collection of sounds, images and people that make up rock music.

<4> It is because I see rock music as a powerful voice for and of marginalized and powerless groups that I am concerned about how the Rock Hall has portrayed this history. In this paper I critique what they have done in individual exhibits and show how the Rock Hall often fails to construct meaningful experiences for their visitors. Then I discuss what I see as the dangerous web of consumerism that is evident inside and outside the building. I conclude with some suggestions for how a visit to the Rock Hall could become more educational and useful for visitors.

Rock and Subversion

<5> Because I am working with the idea that rock music can be instrumental in empowering people -- that it is subversive -- I need to clarify a couple of issues. First, any talk of subversion should specify what exactly is being subverted. The idea of subversion is typically tied up in liberal discourses on "progress" and "safety" but it may be less problematic to say that subversion is a challenge to the center of a culture and its institutions; a challenge to the "common sense" assumption of society. This distinction takes into account some of the reactionary, right-wing "subversives" that have used rock music as a platform for misogynistic, nationalistic, racist and homophobic expressions. Granted, as the "center" of society shifts and fragments, this conversation is getting more complicated. However, I have yet to see any proof that the resulting fragments have achieved an equilibrium where all posses symmetrical legitimacy.

<6> Answering what is being subverted by rock music is one thing but determining the effectiveness of its tactics is another, more complicated, matter. A key figure in the Frankfurt school, Theodore Adorno, theorized that "the fundamental characteristic of popular music is standardization" (197). For Adorno, the impact of standardization combined with commercialization means that popular music is unable to effectively challenge what he saw as the oppressive status quo and, if anything, popular music encouraged conformity (205). His writings refer to the simple and predictable nature of popular music which, he argues, actually does the thinking for listeners and renders them passive (201). In contrast, he argues that something he calls "serious music" challenges listeners to think about what they are hearing and to use their imaginations. Imagination, of course, is so important because one must be able to think outside of the all-encompassing representations of capitalism.

<7> I think that many of Adorno's concerns are weighty and worthy of deep consideration, but I hesitate to be so dismissive. For one thing, the category "popular music" has expand to include such a wide variety of styles that such totalizing conclusions are loaded with far too many exceptions to be of much help. Furthermore, Adorno seems to focus primarily on the production of popular music and aims most of his criticisms there. I, on the other hand, am more inclined to look at the consumption side of this discussion. Using Michel de Certeau's language, I am curious about how consumers use "the products of the dominant economic order" and if these uses can be at all subversive (xiii).

<8> Rock music has conventionally -- though not always or unproblematically -- privileged performers who exist in the margins of culture (or at least put forth a convincing performance to this effect). In so doing, it tends to open up a space where marginalized people can be placed at center stage, quite literally, if only temporarily. While these margins are usually defined in terms of economic class and/or race, other marginalized groups have also benefited from the kind of de-centering of privilege that rock can offer. For example, Neil Nehring, in his article "The Riot Grrrls and 'Carnival,'" argues that Riot Grrrl performances can be seen in terms of the carnivalesque where the dominant social order, particularly patriarchy, is turned upside down for a time.

<9> Furthermore, the audiences for these performers can also find a space where they too are empowered. This can be seen in the kinds of followings and connected lifestyles that develop around certain bands and genres of rock, such as the Riot Grrrl subculture (counter culture?) that Nehring writes about. Riot Grrrl bands often go to great lengths to actively open up such a space -- whether this be an actual space like a concert hall or a more social space that may exist as a lifestyle -- where the people who come to see them, particularly women, are allowed to move to the center as well. Kathleen Hanna, the vocalist for Bikini Kill, a band many would argue is/was at the forefront of the Riot Grrrl movement, explains that she tries to open up such a space as a performer by minimizing the distance between herself and her audience. In her essay "On Not Playing Dead," she writes,

I just think it is crucial, if performers really want to disrupt capitalism that we don't treat the people who support our work and contribute to our livelihoods like fools. Communicating with "fans" through letters and stage banter and by the kinds of business decisions I participate in is a way to show that I respect them and, to ask for respect in return. (126)

Rock music in general, not just spectacular sub-sets like Riot Grrrl, has the potential to move those who may be on the margins of dominant culture to the center during the rock carnival, if only temporarily.

<10> However, I still need to answer to, as Nehring says, "postmodern accusations that the carnival is only authorized transgression" (232). I agree with conclusion that the carnival makes certain that there is always an alternative to the existing social order. "A revolution," Nehring writes, "doesn't have to occur for carnival to be successful. People just have to come together...and rediscover the possibility of refusal" (233). While this may seem overly simplistic, it is important to keep in mind that rock spaces are like carnivals, not actual carnivals in the sense that Bahktin wrote about. Rock spaces do not offer guarantees but do offer potentials. However, these potentials are sometimes very small. Clearly, there is a continuum. The space that Bikini Kill opens up is small but seems is pointedly transgressive. On the other hand, some more theoretical acrobatics may be necessary to make the same argument about other groups.

<11> So, this argument is necessarily about possibilities and not realities because the mere existence of a space cannot dictate how it will be used by consumers and its consumption is often indirectly (and incompletely) influenced by a network of institutional mediators including industry employees and the mass media as well as more personal influences like peer groups and family. These forces have the ability to shape the way rock music is thought of and used. "It is due to such factors," writes Keith Negus, "that no music will ever simply reflect a society but instead will be caught within, arise out of and refer to a web of unequal social relations and power struggles" (70). The Rock Hall, which is certainly involved in such a web, is among these institutional mediators in that it passes judgement on performers and has achieved a high level of perceived legitimacy. Furthermore, as Robert Santelli -- the former assistant curator at the Rock Hall -- has stated, "[t]he curatorial team attempted to build a rock 'n' roll historiography where none had existed previously (239). Given rock music's potential to inspire and empower, the creation and maintenance of its history is not a job to be taken lightly. However, it is my contention that what the Rock Hall has done is sanitized the legacy of rock into little more than an glitzy and entertaining pastime. In the next two sections, I will describe how it does this.

Rock, Shock and Sanitizing the Threat

<12> One of the first exhibits you are likely to see is called Don't Knock the Rock. This installation is simply a series of televisions that continuously play videos that illustrate the history of some of the criticisms rock music has attracted over the years. The complaints came from DJs, religious leaders, politicians and others who found rock music to be morally bankrupt and dangerously sexual. One video clip shows Sen. Paula Hawkins arguing that freedom of speech should not apply to rock music -- and this was in 1985.

<13> It is clear from the name of the exhibit and its presentation that the designers found these critiques to be ridiculous. However, if the Rock Hall were really interested in presenting the music as threatening, their best proof is the aggressive attacks it has provoked from the nation's conservatives. The exhibit seems to argue that it is silly to think of rock as a threat; it is just good, clean fun.

<14> Another example of how the Rock Hall down plays the power of rock to threaten conservative institutions is in the section of the Rockin' All Over the World instillation which is dedicated to Punk and New Wave music. This exhibit brings together an impressive and diverse collection of artifacts from well known acts such as The Ramones as well lesser known groups like The X-Ray Specs. Many writers such as Griel Marcus and Dick Hebdige have seen punk as one of the most radical and threatening movements in the history of rock music but it is clear that the Rock Hall does not share their enthusiasm.

<15> As with all of the exhibits in the Rockin' All Over the World installation this section simply displays and labels the artifacts within a case and depends upon a film to put them into context. In this case, I found the film to be very disappointing. The film is basically a collage of interviews with several contemporary punks in England and another set of punks in the United States. At the beginning of the film, the two factions go back and forth about where punk started -- in the U.S. or England. The rest of the film focuses on what punk means to the members of the subculture but the topic of punk's effect on society as a whole -- or even rock music itself -- was never mentioned. I found my self wondering where were the interviews with Joe Strummer, lead singer for The Clash, where he explained the necessity of a socialist revolution. And where were the films of John Lydon, singer for The Sex Pistols, attacking the English monarchy? It is likely that the impression a visitor who is unfamiliar with punk rock would get from this exhibit is that punks were and are lazy, foul mouthed and not particularly bright. While it is true that many punks seek out unconventional ways of operating, the people in this film were not asked questions that would have yielded interesting answers.

<16> Once again, the Rock Hall failed to create a meaningful experience for this part of rock's history despite having the tools at hand. Many of the artifacts on display are very good examples of the kind of DIY (do it yourself) style that has always been very common in punk. For example, many of the black and white playbills on display seem to be hand made and reproduced on a standard copy machine. They are very different from the large, multi-colored glossy posters that are found in some of the other exhibits. A discussion of this style might have produced some interesting insights into punks critique of capitalism and its aesthetics.

<17> However, The Rock Hall is not particularly interested in any sort of critique of capitalism. In fact, the institution has enmeshed itself in an amazingly complex web of commercialization. This web that stretches from individual exhibits out into the city of Cleveland and is also tied to the recording industry itself is the focus of the next section.

Selling the Carnival

<18> Something I paid particular attention to as I went through the Rock Hall is the extent to which the visitor's movements are controlled as they move from exhibit to exhibit. What I discovered was that the planners have left the space relatively open so visitors are more or less free to wander around has they like. Santelli describes the institutions approach to design as "chaotic" and "unruly" (I return to Santelli's idea of chaos in the conclusion) (243). Upon entering the museum, each visitor is given a map that explains this "chaos" by explaining the location of each exhibit. However, despite all this freedom, I only found one logical way to leave the top floor which is where most people finish their visit: the escalator that dumps you out in the middle of the museum's gift shop.

<19> In my experience, the placement of the gift shop, while not really surprising or unheard of, is disconcerting. Something that added to this was that the gift shop was not simply an in house operation but a Camelot music store. Not surprisingly, they sell tapes and compact discs as well as Rock Hall t-shirts, shot glasses and other souvenirs. It is worth noting that when I started my research the shop was run by HMV and changed to Camelot in the winter of 2000. When I asked one of the employees about the change, she expressed her distaste for the new management indicating that she felt Camelot was trying to manage the store like one of their mall stores which meant they were unable to stock some of the more hard to find titles that are discussed in the exhibits. Hearing her concerns, which are troubling in and of themselves, also made me begin to suspect that all the interactive exhibits through out the museum were not much different from the listening stations that you find in most record stores. I am not arguing that the Rock Hall is part of a giant marketing plan for Camelot but just that the cozy relationship between the two would appear to create a conflict of interest for the Rock Hall's mission to celebrates rock's subversiveness. After all, what is more culturally sanctioned than commerce?

<20> A good place to start thinking about the Rock Hall and commercialization is the institution's induction process. In the performer category, artists are only eligible for induction twenty-five years after the release of their first album. It is interesting to note that this is the only objective requirement for nomination. Even though this process does not necessarily exclude performers who choose to work outside the conventional framework of the recording industry, it certainly puts them at a disadvantage. Does a cassette tape of music recorded in an artist's bedroom and sold only at local record stores count as a first release? What is such releases make up the entirety of an artist's catalog? Looking at the list of inductees, it is telling to note that record label support (major label support in the vast majority of cases) is almost the rule.

<21> While it may seem strange to think about an artist who has never formally made a recording being worthy of induction into the Hall of Fame, this is only so because without the support a record label, it is nearly impossible for an artist to reach a wide audience. Therefore, all the talk about musical talent and innovation is the Rock Hall is secondary to the artists' ability to get signed to a label with the means and motivation to successfully promote the work. In rock's history, very few artists have been able to do this.

<22> Another example of how closely the Rock Hall is connected to the recording industry is how frequently an artist's induction is preceded by new releases and a media blitz. Take Bruce Springsteen for example. Though the official announcement of his induction was not made until late in 1998, it was fairly obvious he would be inducted the first year he became eligible. After all, He had been involved in most of the induction ceremonies and he has always been featured prominently in several of the films shown inside the museum.

<23> Shortly before the announcement of his induction, his record company released a box set containing many of Springsteen's studio outtakes. The set itself is the sort of thing that only a completist would really want to own as it is outtakes from each of his albums. Also, the fact that the set contains very little new information about the artist or the songs lead many fans to speculate that the collection was thrown together by Springsteen's label, Sony, in order to take advantage of both the holiday shopping season and the media blitz that was sure to be generated by his induction into the Hall of Fame. Furthermore, his reunion tour with the E-Street Band, who he had not played with since 1989, seemed well timed to take advantage of the publicity. I do not want to assert that there was a formal agreement between Sony and the Rock Hall (though it does not seem particularly far fetched) but certainly the exposure Springsteen received helped sales of the collection and rekindled interest among the public in seeing him though his popularity had been declining through most of the 1990s.

<24> This web of commercialization reaches outside the Rock Hall's walls and into the city of Cleveland as well. Expressing his vision of what the Rock Hall should be like, humorist Dave Berry said, "[t]he other businesses in Cleveland should have to call the police constantly to demand the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame be turned down" (G9). However, the reality is that the Rock Hall gets along very well with its neighbors. The area is full of sanitary tourist attractions including a science museum, sports arenas and the Hard Rock Café -- each built after the Rock Hall. Furthermore, two downtown entertainment districts -- the Flats and the Flats West -- have blossomed since the construction of the Rock Hall. All of these seem to be part of a wide-ranging plan to gentrify the downtown Cleveland area.

<25> While I do not see the Rock Hall as the engineer of this development, its inclusion in the process is puzzling. Inside the building, visitors are told that rock was born in impoverished and marginalized communities and that it has rarely shed its raw, blue collar image with impunity. Outside, you see posh restaurants and not-so-posh restaurants with posh prices. In other words, this is not the kind of neighborhood where you would expect to meet anyone like the most of the people the Rock Hall chooses to glorify. The paradox of an institution which, within its walls, claims to celebrate rebellion being in the center of the tangle of old-fashioned American consumerism which is downtown Cleveland reflects all the paradoxes I have brought up and perhaps reflects the same paradoxes in the recording industry itself.

<26> Though this analysis may seem a bit like one Adorno would make, I am not arguing that commercialism can ever totally eclipse rock's potential to provide the kind of carnivalesque alternative I mentioned earlier. However, the commercial nature of the Rock Hall is so spectacular and intricately woven into so many of the exhibits and even the placement of the building that its constant presence is, at best, impossible to ignore and, at worst, impossible to separate from the presentation.

Conclusions and Suggestions

<27> Santelli's article which I have referred to previously is an interesting document both as a resource and as an artifact of the creation of the Rock Hall. Due to his involvement in the exhibit development at the Rock Hall -- the fact which makes the article a good resource -- it should not be surprising that he feels that the museum does a good job. However, I see this article as a good artifact because it exposes some of the assumptions he and the rest of the curatorial team were working under. In an attempt to argue that rock music means different things to different people, he says that each member of the curatorial team "owned entirely different interpretations of events, artists and albums despite the fact that we were all late thirties to early forties … and believed that the music had a profound impact on American culture" (240). This homogeneity, rather than creating the sort of complex network of memories that Santelli describes, seems to have resulted in a museum for a very specific demographic: baby boomers. Thus his statement that rock music "had [rather than has] a profound impact on American culture" (240).

<28> Part of what I am getting at becomes evident later when he makes two interesting assumptions. His statement that "rock 'n' roll became the soundtrack of the baby boom generation and, to a lesser degree, post-boomers and Generation Xers" exposes the Rock Hall's bias toward his generation and the music it created (240). This quote shows that, as someone who has already acknowledged that rock has had a "profound impact" on society and who is also a baby boomer himself, his memory of what rock did for his generation may be romanticized and what he sees it doing for subsequent generations is certainly underestimated. The tendency - in Santelli's article and in the Rock Hall itself - to underestimate rock's power for future generations is made clear in the Rock Hall's dismissive treatment of rock's ability to shock and its disrespectful interpretation of punk. Furthermore, much more could have been done with hip hop's often pointedly political stance. However, like punk, hip hop is treated as little more than a fashion statement.

<29> The other telling assumption comes as he describes "the typical forty something visitor" and does so only with always with masculine pronouns (241). He says that these "visitors come, not to broaden their understanding of rock but rather to validate it" (241). This is certainly the effect the Rock Hall had on me as a visitor, though I seem to be much younger that the Rock Hall's target audience. My question; is this the role of a museum? If the Rock Hall is only interested in providing trips down memory lane and constructing a romantic history for baby boomers in order to make them feel like they were a part of something important (which is apparently over so it's fine to get back to money making), then the museum does a fine job. With these expectations, though, it is little more than a fantasy land not unlike Disney World.

<30> Due to the fact that a major narrative in the Rock Hall seems to be the rebellious voices of rock music, one might well expect that the curators would want to do more (or at least want to look like they do more) than feed nostalgia. The problem is two fold. One is that the Rock Hall, in order to exist as it does, has to make money. All museums are now in competition with high-tech science centers, water parks and, of course, Disney. They have to entertain to sustain themselves in a competitive market. So, like many such destinations, they go have gone after the "family" demographic -- in which family is defined in the most conservative way -- with the expectation that mom and dad will make the decision to come because they have memories connected to the exhibits (or will at least be able to have some convincingly constructed for them). But in doing so, the Rock Hall has created a liberalized, baby-boomer centric history for rock music which has often been more radical than that. By exhibiting the radical voices of rock's history as liberal at most, the Rock Hall diminishes its own power to show the music as capable of shocking, challenging and even changing society.

<31> I would like to propose some relatively minor changes the Rock Hall could make if it is interested in answering these complaints. Each of these changes require a reevaluation of the exhibits that deal with radical social change specifically but will also depend upon a reevaluation of the institution as a whole. This is particularly necessary in the section devoted to punk rock in the Rockin' All Over the World instillation. Certain artists who have come to be associated with punk -- The Clash, CRASS, The Dead Kennedys -- were and continue to be some of the most direct and radical voices of social change. Concentrating on this rather than where punk started would make the music appear less trivial than the current exhibit presents and would perhaps be more educational. Furthermore, it would be in keeping with the narrative of rebellion that the Rock Hall currently gestures toward creating.

<32> Another important change should be a reorganization of the Don't Knock the Rock exhibit so that it utilizes the footage of the sorts of "moral" outrages rock music has stirred up. As tame as performers from the 1950s may seem by today's standards, they really did shock some people and nothing has been the same since. This footage should not be an opportunity to laugh at the prudishness of some people long ago but instead it should be something to brag about, a cause for celebration.

<33> There are also some larger issues I think the Rock Hall would do well to address. First, I want to comment on what Santelli refers to as the "spectacularly effective" organization of the Rock Hall that sought to break "apart myth and convention" and challenge "the visitor to rethink his [sic] view of rock history" (243). Where Santelli sees this as a subversion of "the visitor's expectations of an easy-flowing, non-challenging walk through rock's history," I see it as a nearly incomprehensible mess that isolates events from any context, historical or otherwise, and renders useful artifacts almost completely meaningless (243). I propose some alternative ways of organization that would still challenge visitors. However, rather than challenge visitors to figure out where they are, my suggestions would challenge them to rethink the version of history that has, thanks in part to the Rock Hall, become the standard.

<34> The key to my suggestions is a de-centering of the celebrity from the story of rock music and reorganizing the collection in terms of the way "fan" cultures have responded to major forces of history. Some of these could include war, sexuality, oppression (racism, classism, ageism, sexism), government and economics. This would put the music in a more holistic context than the way it is currently presented. While it is interesting to see what kinds of artifacts came out of different scenes in the Rockin' All Over the World exhibit, it would be more interesting to see what these scenes were responding to that made them unique. For example, there is clearly some evidence in the 1960s era San Francisco exhibit that the music was in some way connected to the war in Vietnam. However, these connections are not clear enough for the experience to be meaningful to anyone who was not there.

<35> This change would also allow the Rock Hall to focus more on audience. Rock's potential subversion does not lie in the music alone but in the people who hear the music and become connected with a corresponding lifestyle. This could be, and has been, how people are inspired into action. I do not think it is a coincidence that popular music has been an important part of almost every radical movement in American history from the Wobblies to Anti-Globalization. Nor is it a coincidence that whenever "moral decline" is suspected that rock artists are among the first to be blamed (examples: Little Richard, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Sex Pistols, The Dead Kennedys, 2 Live Crew, Marilyn Manson, Eminem et cetera). Documenting the connections between rock's responses should result in a diminished sense of distance between the exhibits and the visitors. While visitors may be interested, even fanatical, about some performers, nearly everyone could find some connection to other music fans. Besides, the Hall of Fame portion of the institution already focuses on the celebrity aspect of rock. In short, the museum should strive to do something more than facilitate superficial understandings and mere idol worship.

<36> Despite my many criticisms, I would not have put forth the effort to critique the Rock Hall if I simply wanted to dismiss it. I feel very strongly that these changes should be made because rock music is one of the few means of expression that remains a strong voice, despite the effects of co-option and appropriation. The Rock Hall, perhaps more than any other forum, has the potential to help people see the connection between rock and social critique which is just as vital now as it ever was.

Bibliography

Adorno, T. "On Popular Music." Cultural Theory and Popular Culture: A Reader. 1993. John Storey, ed. Athens, GA: Univ. of Georgia, 1998. 197-209.

Barry, Dave. "Rock 'n' Roll Exhibits High Class in Cleveland." Atlanta Journal Constitution (Atlanta), 17 Feb, 1991. G9.

de Certeau, Michel. The Practice of Everyday Life. Trans. Steven Rendall. Berkeley: Univ. of California, 1984.

Hannah, Kathleen. "On Not Playing Dead." Stars Don't Stand Still in the Sky: Music and Myth. Karen Kelly and Evelyn McDonnell, eds. New York: New York Univ., 1999. 122-131.

Negus, Keith. Popular Music in Theory: An Introduction. Hanover, NH: Univ. Press of New England, 1996.

Nehring, Neil. "The Riot Grrrls and 'Carnival'." Reading Rock and Roll: Authenticity, Appropriation, Aesthetics. Kevin Dettmar and William Richey, eds. New York: Columbia Univ., 1999. 209-233.

Santelli, Robert. "The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum: Myth, Memory, and History." Stars Don't Stand Still in the Sky: Music and Myth. Karen Kelly and Evelyn McDonnell, eds. New York: New York Univ., 1999. 237-243.