IF I HAD A BALLOT FOR THE 2014 ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAME NOMINATIONS

N.W.A.

Background: Sometimes the history of the Rock and Soul Era is punctuated by artists whose moment was brief but enduring, altering the course of the music irrevocably even though the artist's presence was fleeting. Bill Haley, the Sex Pistols, and Grandmaster Flash were such artists, and so was the hip-hop group N.W.A. Short for Niggaz wit Attitudes, N.W.A. wasn't the first gangsta-rap act—Schoolly D delivered the first truly graphic street-level vignettes (such as "PSK—What Does It Mean?), although Hall of Fame recognition for him is non-existent; first is not always lasting—but N.W.A. did deliver the definitive tract for the genre, Straight Outta Compton, N.W.A.'s second album, which has influenced countless acts while spawning the solo careers of Dr. Dre, Eazy-E, and Ice Cube. "Straight Outta Compton" is a gripping statement of purpose while "Gangsta Gangsta" details inner-city life in ambiguous terms and the notorious "Fuck tha Police" is a landmark challenge to authority that eerily presaged the 1991 Rodney King beating in Los Angeles and the subsequent rioting following the acquittal of the four L.A. police officers charged with the beating.

And that was it for N.W.A. Its first album was a tepid exercise that could hardly predict the impact Compton would have, and its releases subsequent to that quickly became uninspired and parodic. Furthermore, internal disputes ensured that N.W.A. would not last long, with Dre and Ice Cube embarking on substantial careers while Eazy-E, who also went solo, died in 1995. By that time, gangsta rap had become the dominant hip-hop genre while exerting a fascination throughout contemporary music and pop culture in general. N.W.A. had ratcheted up the stark storytelling of Grandmaster Flash and Run-D.M.C. while echoing the bluntness of rock's hardcore underground, and pushed the Rock and Soul Era into a graphic, profane existence. Like it or lump it, you cannot ignore it.

Will the artist be voted into the Hall? No. Last year, Public Enemy was the obvious and safe hip-hop choice, and this year you have to wonder if LL Cool J's inclusion on the ballot is wholly or in part to provide that kind of safety net again. Because given the still-contentious nature of hip-hop being in the "Rock and Roll" Hall of Fame, I still don't see Hall voters voting for two hip-hop acts in the same year. To put it crudely, will they vote for the Field Negro or the House Negro? Paging LL Cool J.

Would I vote for the artist? Yes. Although N.W.A.'s legacy amounts to only one album, its impact is what matters, and the band redirected the course of hip-hop, with a corresponding ripple effect on other musical and cultural forms, as a result of it. N.W.A. is the hip-hop equivalent of the Sex Pistols, and it will be interesting to see, if it is elected, if the group regards its election as a "piss stain" as well.

The Replacements

Background: In a number of respects, the Replacements were the American post-punk equivalent of the Kinks. Like that classic English rock band, which did have a bearing on punk, the Replacements made hard-rocking if sloppy albums and were notorious for their shambolic concerts (this band did release a live album called The Shit Hits the Fans, after all). Moreover, like the Kinks, who were led by songwriter Ray Davies, the Replacements featured one of the finest songwriters from the 1980s American underground, singer and guitarist Paul Westerberg. And if Westerberg lacked the historical and class perspectives of Davies, he nevertheless proved to be an insightful chronicler of suburban dynamics while sharing Davies's quiet sense of intimacy with and empathy for his subjects.

Getting their start on Minneapolis's Twin-Tone label in the early 1980s ("Color Me Impressed," "I Bought a Headache"), the Replacements attracted significant notice with their 1984 album Let It Be, one of the greatest alternative albums of the decade. "Favorite Thing," "We're Comin' Out," and a cover of Kiss's "Black Diamond" thrashed effectively and efficiently, but "Androgynous," "I Will Dare," "Unsatisfied," and "Answering Machine" displayed uncommon perception that takes a cockeyed, quasi-Thin Lizzy turn with "Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out." The 'Mats' follow-up, Tim, honed that blend of raw rock and melodic reflection into their first major-label release (Sire Records), and while it might have softened the hard-rock blows, Westerberg continued to develop his songwriting maturity: "Left of the Dial," a paean to college radio, and the generational blast "Bastards of Young" extended the rocking approach of Let It Be while "Kiss Me on the Bus" and especially "Here Comes a Regular" contained impressive acuity.

After lead guitarist Bob Stinson quit/was fired from the band, the remaining Replacements made Pleased to Meet Me as a trio with some session help; the album often divides fans, with long-time purists crying "sell-out" while newer fans found it accessible. Some of the stylistic experiments ("Nightclub Jitters") were atypical while some of the hard-rock exercises sounded perfunctory ("Shooting Dirty Pool," "Red Red Wine") or self-consciously important ("The Ledge"). Westerberg name-checked one of his influences, Big Star's "Alex Chilton," and added a modestly arty ballad, "Skyway," although "Can't Hardly Wait," originally slated for Tim, began to sound like an echo of the band's potential. Certainly Don't Tell a Soul sounded like mainstream modern rock (the tossed-off "Talent Show") even if "Achin' to Be" and "I'll Be You" still evinced Westerberg's facility, although the biting "Anywhere's Better Than Here" sounded like a group complaint. Indeed, All Shook Down was effectively a Paul Westerberg solo record ("Sadly Beautiful," "Someone Take the Wheel"), and the band soon sundered.

As part of the Great Bifurcation of rock music in the 1980s, during which time the underground (alternative rock, college rock, and other labels) proved itself to be a viable artistic and commercial force independent from the mainstream, the Replacements were a vital and influential example of the next wave of rock music, informed by the previous wave while suggesting new avenues, all capped by Paul Westerberg's discerning songwriting.

Will the artist be voted into the Hall? No. Although the Replacements moved from independent-label acclaim to major-label success, thus helping to pave the way for alternative rock's ascendancy in the 1990s, Hall voters will consider the 'Mats' success to be too modest, with not enough impact and influence.

Would I vote for the artist? Yes. I must admit, though, that my initial assessment was No, albeit a very reluctant No as I feel that the Replacements are definitely on the borderline. However, in listening to their songs again, from the Twin-Tone days through the Sire years, it is clear to me that Paul Westerberg's songwriting had significant enough impact and influence on the development of rock music to push the band into the Hall of Fame. And if the shit hits the fans once again, let it be.

Linda Ronstadt

Background: In terms of technical ability, Linda Ronstadt is one of the greatest singers of the Rock and Soul Era, her pure, powerful, plangent soprano a signature sound of the 1970s and early 1980s. Yet Ronstadt's interpretive ability, which has defined her career, has been often misguided, rendering surface emotions that miss the essence of the song—as if a first-class actor delivered powerful line readings but with no conception of the character or the narrative.

Ronstadt began her career in the 1960s with the Stone Poneys, a folk-rock group that notched a hit with future Monkee Mike Nesmith's "Different Drum," which remains an early Ronstadt touchstone. Joining forces with producer Peter Asher at the turn of the decade, Ronstadt pursued country rock (the Eagles' "Desperado") that struck gold with Heart Like a Wheel, which remains her greatest album, in part because her powerhouse interpretations of "You're No Good" and "When Will I Be Loved" top those of Betty Everett and the Everly Brothers, respectively, and because the title track exemplified Ronstadt's championing of heretofore-unheralded songwriters—in this case, Anna McGarrigle—which brought their work to a wider audience, a trait that harkens back to Nesmith's "Different Drum.". Indeed, Ronstadt gave mass exposure to burgeoning talents such as Karla Bonoff ("Someone to Lay Down Beside Me") and Warren Zevon ("Hasten Down the Wind," "Poor Poor Pitiful Me") as Ronstadt became one of the biggest recording artists of the 1970s—and certainly the biggest female star of the decade—in no small measure because of her hit versions of gems from the rock and soul canon, "That'll Be the Day," "Blue Bayou," "The Tracks of My Tears," and "Back in the USA" among them.

Alas, those renditions may be powerfully sung but they betray a lack of conviction, as if Ronstadt were a hired session singer and not the discerning interpretive artist of her purported reputation. And as punk and New Wave began to supplant classic rock, she tried to remain au courant (for example, covering three Elvis Costello songs on the misguided Mad Love), but by the early 1980s she had performed on Broadway in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance before collaborating with legendary arranger and conductor Nelson Riddle for a trio of albums of pre-Rock and Soul Era pop standards, an indicator of how her career was ossifying even as she discovered a new generation of songs to render as leaden sentiment (although she had hinted at this direction by covering Nat "King" Cole's "When I Grow Too Old to Dream" back in 1978).

Blessed with a gorgeous voice and graced with catholic tastes in music, Linda Ronstadt brought a number of songwriters into the spotlight, but she essentially performed like a jukebox while never defining her own artistic expression. Nevertheless, she remains a significant performer of the Rock and Soul Era.

Will the artist be voted into the Hall? Yes. Considering that Ronstadt has been eligible for two decades, and that fellow 1970s pop-rockers such as Billy Joel and Elton John had been inducted years ago, it is surprising that she has not been inducted yet. And as she is retired from music because of the onset of Parkinson's disease, she may get a groundswell of sympathy support.

Would I vote for the artist? Yes. Linda Ronstadt is definitely a borderline candidate when viewed in terms of overall artistic achievement, but her protean vocal talent, her popularity, her efforts to develop country rock, and her championing of songwriters is enough to push her across the threshold.

Cat Stevens

Background: Beginning his musical career in the mid-1960s, Cat Stevens seemed ideally poised for the 1970s singer-songwriter boom despite a lengthy recuperation from tuberculosis late in the decade. He recovered, though, and indeed Stevens (born Steven Georgiou of Greek-Swedish parentage in London, England) proved to be one of the commercially successful proponents of the acoustic-based, lyrically sensitive movement. Upon his conversion to Islam in the late 1970s, Stevens (now known as Yusef Islam) withdrew from the public spotlight, and for all intents and purposes his pop career was over although by the 1990s he revisited the secular realm.

Stevens's early efforts in the late 1960s displayed a heavily-produced sound courtesy of Mike Hurst, also Stevens's manager. "Matthew and Son" was his biggest chart success during this period, and it and the plainspoken sentiment of "I Love My Dog" presaged Stevens's cheerful, optimistic side to be found in his later hits, while he did also score a hit with "I'm Gonna Get Me a Gun," which nodded to the darker streak in Stevens's outlook while perhaps containing the seeds of his later, infamous seeming-support for Ayatollah Khomeini's fatwa against The Satanic Verses author Salman Rushdie. Ditching Hurst and his orchestration for a stripped-down folk-rock sound with former Yardbirds bassist-turned-producer Paul Samwell-Smith, Stevens hit his stride beginning with 1970's Mona Bone Jakon, whose keynote songs, "Lady D'Arbanville" and "Trouble," underscored his tendency toward melancholia, no doubt the residue of his own life-threatening illness, even as musically it was a precursor to his approach on his landmark album Tea for the Tillerman (1970). That album covered all facets of the singer-songwriter, from love relationships ("Wild World") to family relationships ("Father and Son") to social conscience ("Where Do the Children Play?").

Perhaps buoyed by success, Stevens's mood lightened for 1971's Teaser and the Firecat as its hits, "Peace Train," "Moonshadow," and Stevens's arrangement of the Christian hymn "Morning Has Broken," found the singer-songwriter more upbeat. While still producing hits ("Oh Very Young," a cover of Sam Cooke's "Another Saturday Night"), he also became more ambitious, unveiling a side-long track on 1973's Foreigner; meanwhile, other artists continued to cover his songs—Rod Stewart, for instance, had so much success with "The First Cut Is the Deepest" that many listeners think Stewart wrote the song. In 1971, Stevens contributed heavily to the soundtrack of the black-comedy cult classic Harold and Maude, with his "If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out," written expressly for the film, becoming the de facto theme song, although it is hard to consider Maude, let alone Harold, to be a devotee of Stevens's music, his own mordancy notwithstanding.

Cat Stevens's career gradually tapered by the late 1970s, by which time he had converted to Islam and had effectively retired from the pop-music business. His legacy continued nevertheless; 10,000 Maniacs, for example, covered "Peace Train" although the band distanced itself from it, even removing it from subsequent pressings of its album In My Tribe, following the flap over Salman Rushdie. Stevens enjoyed popularity and influence during his 1970s heyday; however, his legacy is on a par with fellow singer-songwriters Harry Chapin and Jim Croce: borderline at best.

Will the artist be voted into the Hall? No. Hall voters do seem partial to singer-songwriters, most recently giving the nod to Donovan. But Cat Stevens was not as iconic as Donovan, with his impact and influence overshadowed by several other practitioners of the genre.

Would I vote for the artist? No. Cat Stevens could be an inspired craftsman who held the public imagination during the first half of the 1970s, but compared to his peers already in the Hall, he does not rise to the level of artistry, influence, and legacy that they do.