IF I HAD A BALLOT FOR THE 2015 ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAME NOMINATIONS

Stevie Ray Vaughan

Background: Cutting through the moping swirl of early-1980s synth-pop with the ringing, steely-sharp slice of his Stratocaster, Stevie Ray Vaughan emerged from Texas as the Great White Hope of blues rock, a genuine guitar hero with a sound as singular as B.B. King, Carlos Santana, and Jimi Hendrix. Fostered by legendary impresario John Hammond, Vaughan first came to notice, curiously enough, in 1983 on David Bowie's hit album Let's Dance (EMI), on which Vaughan's squalling fills gave notice to somebody distinctive in the mix. Vaughan's debut album, Texas Flood (Epic, 1983), recorded with Double Trouble, the solid if unspectacular rhythm duo of bassist Tommy Shannon and drummer Chris Layton, contained an exciting if familiar mix of rockers ("Love Struck Baby," "Pride and Joy") and rave-ups ("Rude Mood," "Testify") while the slower numbers (the title track, the instrumental "Lenny") gave Vaughan space to stretch out his estimable playing, particularly in concert. Vaughan's follow-up Couldn't Stand the Weather (Epic, 1984) augmented its blues rock ("Cold Shot," a strident cover of "The Things (That) I Used to Do") with jazz flourishes (the nimble title song) and, with "Voodoo Child (Slight Return)," Vaughan's explicit nod to a seminal influence, Jimi Hendrix.

But although Soul to Soul (Epic, 1985) sounded richer thanks to the addition of keyboardist Reese Wynans, who added crucial texture to the slower-tempo numbers "Ain't Gone 'n' Give up on Love" and "Life without You" (which still found the haze of Hendrix hanging over it) as well as on the rollicking cover of Hank Ballard's "Look at Little Sister," Vaughan had yet to make his mark as more than just a Stratocaster master. Perhaps the substance abuse that afflicted Vaughan and the band was the culprit. In 1986 the band released a concert set, Live Alive (Epic), a standard holding action and one that was heavily overdubbed in post-production to bolster the decent though hardly exceptional live renditions that include a cover of Stevie Wonder's "Superstition" and the wonderfully droll recounting of a gangster's flamboyant funeral, "Willie the Wimp." However, In Step (Epic, 1989) found Vaughan both newly sober and inspired by it; while "Tightrope" and especially "Wall of Denial" are the confessions of a recovering addict, their acute musicianship buoys Vaughan's other concerns such as the rambunctious opener "The House Is Rockin'," the gorgeous, reflective closing instrumental "Riviera Paradise" (with its tip of the hat to Lone Star jazz guitarist Kenny Burrell), and Vaughan's undisputed blues-rocker classic "Crossfire," capped by Vaughan's wrenching, quintessential guitar solo.

Then, tragically, as Stevie Ray Vaughan finally seemed set to grab the brass ring as not only a guitar titan but also as a recording and performing artist, he was killed on August 27, 1990, in a helicopter crash while leaving a concert in Wisconsin. Vaughan's premature death left his legacy largely unrealized although the spate of posthumous releases reminds listeners of Vaughan's promise, with The Sky Is Crying (Epic, 1991) a particularly strong artifact, offering the acoustic reminiscence "Life by the Drop" as the Texas guitar slinger's epitaph.

Will the artist be voted into the Hall? Yes. With a tone as big and bold as Texas, Stevie Ray Vaughan looks like the Last Guitar Hero, the standard-bearer of the old guard who took on the ascendance of modern rock in the 1980s almost single-handedly. Hall voters will appreciate his old-school approach enough to reward him.

Would I vote for the artist? No. The tragic aspect to Stevie Ray Vaughan's career is that his life was cut short just as he was beginning to truly develop as an artist; that is doubly so as he had cleaned himself up from a near-lifetime of addiction and stood poised to realize his potential, only to be killed in an accident over which he had no control. But although Vaughan is undoubtedly one of the great guitarists in rock history, the recorded legacy he left behind does not support that perception.

War

Background: With a cosmopolitan, even catholic attitude toward popular music, War prefigured some of the genre blending and crossover approaches two decades before that became commonplace, while the band's best efforts remain a source of samples and inspiration for hip-hop. War's roots lie in Southern California, incorporating local African-American and Latin influences into its basic funk style, but early on it picked up a Jewish producer, Jerry Goldstein, a Dutch harmonica player, Lee Oskar, and, at least initially, an English singer in Eric Burdon, the former front man for two variants of the Animals. Burdon's narration helped "Spill the Wine," still a War touchstone, become an engaging hit with its vaguely internationalist feel, but on War's first two albums with Burdon, his psychedelic tendencies overwhelmed the band (two separate covers of "Nights in White Satin"!). Even un-Burdoned, War still needed an album to sharpen its focus: War (United Artists, 1971) flexed the band's lean, loose-limbed drive and warm group vocals ("Lonely Feelin'," "Sun Oh Son"), although the ham-handed anti-Castro jab "Fidel's Fantasy" found the band still developing its political commentary.

The band honed that on All Day Music (United Artists, 1971) with "Get Down" and especially the brilliant urban tale "Slippin' into Darkness," keyed to Oskar's harmonica and B.B. Dickerson's bass (both of which suggest an inspiration for Bob Marley's "Get Up, Stand Up"), while the title song promised jazz-inflected good times. Even better was the 1972 chart-topping album The World Is a Ghetto (United Artists), its hit title song expressing that sentiment with lyrical and musical eloquence as "The Cisco Kid," echoing the Latino hero of the 1950s Western television series, reinforced the multicultural identification; meanwhile, the country-funk instrumental "City, Country, City" showcased War's musical ability. Deliver the Word (United Artists, 1973) suggested a hint of gospel (the title song) while the hard-driving "Me and Baby Brother" and a shortened version of "Gypsy Man" became hit singles. Bolstered by a pair of signature hits in the throbbing, tightly-wound "Low Rider" and the infectious, hilarious camaraderie of "Why Can't We Be Friends?," Why Can't We Be Friends? (United Artists, 1975) actually signaled the end of War's heyday. Platinum Jazz (Blue Note, 1976) was anything but, while the title track of Galaxy (MCA, 1977) was inspired by Star Wars, with the corresponding superficiality—more troubling was the game disco moves it displayed, indicating yet another band threatened by the next trend and trying desperately to stay au courant.

Indeed, War never regained its touch as it entered the 1980s—the 1981 single "Cinco de Mayo" was a discofied re-write of "Low Rider"—and the band began to grind it out, releasing the occasional album for the fanbase while hitting the oldies and nostalgia circuit. But hip-hoppers didn't forget about War, and the best elements of this sturdy funk-rock band have served to enhance succeeding generations of musicians.

Will the artist be voted into the Hall? No. Despite a mid-1970s clutch of strong albums and memorable singles, War never captured sufficient attention to make itself an integral part of the period. Voters may recall fondly "Slippin' into Darkness," "The Cisco Kid," or "Why Can't We Be Friends?," but that will not be enough to push the band into the Hall.

Would I vote for the artist? No. Even though War did construct a cross-cultural sound even more effective for its spare but resonant impact, the band never developed a distinctive voice nor, beyond a few cogent songs, much to say in the first place. The high points in the War catalog are nearly obscured by the mass of middling efforts that make up the bulk of it.

Bill Withers

Background: Soul and R&B singer Bill Withers did not release his first album, Just As I Am (Sussex, 1971), until he was 32, having spent nine years in the US Navy before he pursued his musical career in earnest. His debut, produced by Booker T. Jones and with backing by most of the MGs and guitarist Stephen Stills, was indeed auspicious as the smoldering hit "Ain't No Sunshine," spotlighting Withers's relaxed yet assured voice, gave notice to an already-mature talent with songwriting insights exemplified by "Harlem" and especially with the winsome reminiscence of "Grandma's Hands," a childhood tale that has seen several cover versions, while his own covers of "Let It Be" and Fred Neil's "Everybody's Talkin'" revealed Withers's broad-ranging tastes. Still Bill (Sussex, 1972) confirmed that with the bluesy thump of "I Don't Want You on My Mind," the funky "Kissing My Love," the edgy, perceptive accusation of "Who Is He (And What Is He to You)," the percolating lust declaration of "Use Me," and especially the gospel-tinged invitation "Lean on Me," which topped the singles chart as it became Withers's signature song.

Still Bill remains Withers's high-water mark. He cut one more album for Sussex before moving to Columbia Records and a slicker sound in the mid- to late 1970s that incorporated disco and a more pedestrian, anonymous approach—the cheerfully bland "Lovely Day" (1977), which was his first Top 40 hit since 1973's "Kissing My Love," exemplifies this trend. By the 1980s Withers was at the forefront of the Quiet Storm format, collaborating with saxophonist Grover Washington, Jr., on the near-chart-topper "Just the Two of Us," an admittedly infectious trifle that would go onto to haunt supermarkets and elevators for the rest of eternity. By 1985, Withers, having failed to chart with the album Watching You Watching Me, had ended his association with Columbia, and he has been effectively retired from the music business ever since.

Will the artist be voted into the Hall? No. Bill Withers had a brief heyday in the early 1970s as a distinctive soul singer, leaving behind a handful of classic singles but hardly enough to merit his inclusion on this year's ballot as anything more than a courtesy.

Would I vote for the artist? No. With a glory period that lasted only a few years, Bill Withers simply does not have the presence to justify a Hall of Fame vote. Moreover, despite an engaging, confessional lyrical manner that was unusual in black music at the time, Withers did not make an innovation significant enough to call him a pioneer.

Voting Summary

The table below summarizes the 15 nominees for 2015 by how I think the Hall voters will vote and by how I would vote were I eligible to do so.

2015 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Nominees
Nominee	Hall Vote		My Vote
	Yes	No	Yes	No
The Paul Butterfield Blues Band		X		X
Chic	X		X
Green Day	X		X
Joan Jett and the Blackhearts	X			X
Kraftwerk	X		X
The Marvelettes		X		X
Nine Inch Nails	X		X
N.W.A.		X	X
Lou Reed		X		X
The Smiths		X	X
The Spinners		X	X
Sting		X		X
Stevie Ray Vaughan	X			X
War		X		X
Bill Withers		X		X
Totals	6	9	7	8

I am a little more bullish on this year's nominees, being willing to cast one more "Yes" vote than how I think the Hall voters will do. My estimations of how the Hall voters will decide is purely a shot in the dark—as if I could hope to encapsulate what more than 500 voters will think—and it is based on their collective historical record. I will not elaborate further on the Hall's vote but I will summarize my own choices below.

This year's "deep historical period" is represented by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, the Marvelettes, and the Spinners, whose careers began in the 1960s. Although the first two seem to have champions on the nominating committee, neither is significant nor distinguished enough to merit inclusion in the Hall of Fame. The Spinners, on the other hand, have been long overdue for the Hall, perhaps not an obvious choice but still a well-qualified one.

Moving into the 1970s, Chic and Kraftwerk are the two acts whose heydays reside in that decade that deserve to be enshrined—although both get the nudge across the threshold because of their subsequent influence. Admittedly, each is a borderline pick, but the combination of each act's own catalog and the inspiration others drew from that catalog adds up to the Hall. Lou Reed is a Grand Old Man of rock, and given his longevity and influence he could be seen as a Hall of Famer, but his solo output was so wildly uneven that it is hard to justify his inclusion as an individual artist—he lacks any truly distinguishing characteristics. War and especially Bill Withers had their moments during the decade, but neither survived until the next decade, and even their glory periods in the 1970s are not strong enough to consider them as Hall of Fame material.

Of the acts whose careers peaked in the 1980s, only the Smiths have a body of work substantial and influential enough to justify a Hall vote. Sting made a modest splash in the 1980s, and he continues to record and tour, but his solo presence is not strong enough to earn him a spot in the Hall just for himself; he will have to settle for his current enshrinement as a member of the Police. Although I think that the Hall will vote for both Joan Jett and the Blackhearts and for Stevie Ray Vaughan, I do not think that either act makes a strong enough case to merit a place in the Hall. In Vaughan's case, his is a tragic one because of his premature death, but Jett has had three decades to wow us as something more than a high-energy jukebox, extolling someone else's emotion but not her own.

It may not be surprising that the three acts from the 1990s, Green Day, Nine Inch Nails, and N.W.A., are the strongest ones on the ballot. (I'm counting N.W.A. as a '90s act for its influence rather than actual career; the group was effectively sundered by 1991.) The Hall has had sufficient time to consider and elect many acts from previous years, and with a few exceptions noted here (Chic, Kraftwerk, the Spinners), it has done so. Green Day and Nine Inch Nails are in their first year of eligibility, and it would be surprising if either is not voted into the Hall this year as each is among the most recognizable and influential names of the past 25 years. N.W.A. is a tougher sell, but its recurrence on the ballot means that someone is fighting for it, and a vote for this influential hip-hop band is a valid one.

The Class of 2015 may not be one of the greatest in the history of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but given judicious selections by the Hall voters, it could be one of the stronger ones in recent years. If only I had a ballot of my own . . .