CLEVELAND, OHIO: For someone who has spent two-thirds of his adult life digesting hundreds of rock songs, decoding all those guitar solos and air drumming to percussion coda -- a preoccupation that has turned me into either a provincial rock snob or the world's biggest miserabilist -- the next logical step would be to pay homage to rock greats at their shrine.
If only I had come to America earlier, I would definitely have picked New York club CBGB as my number one destination.
This run-down Manhattan venue gave birth to the whole punk movement -- although this could be a moot point with London punk fans who would surely reject the proposition.
But anyway, CBGB was home to consummate punk bands like Television, Talking Heads and the Patti Smith Group, and these bands had their breakout performances at this venue.
But now that CBGB is gone, there is no point in making a pilgrimage to a non-existent shrine. Last year, CBGB owner Hilly Kristal failed to pay the rent for the club and decided to shut down the bar with little fanfare.
I also could have gone to San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury, the place where the Summer of Love happened, but with gas prices reaching US$4 per gallon, it would be too much to go to California. Besides, I am not a big fan of Summer of Love and the only thing I dig about the San Francisco rock scene is Jefferson Airplane's album Surrealistic Pillow and the Doors' debut album.
So I was left with only one destination, albeit not the least interesting, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum in Cleveland, Ohio.
To be honest, I am against the idea of building a museum and putting rock and roll in it, as it implies that rock is dead and buried and that what we have now are the remnants of its golden era.
But remembrance of things past is the best I can do, now that the music scene is at the lowest point in its history and the best it can offer me is a second-rate Weezer album and a Talking Heads knock-off in the form of Vampire Weekend.
Maybe the time is nigh for writing an obituary for dearly beloved and departed rock and roll. Anyway, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum is indeed worth visiting if only for its architectural splendor. Modeled after the Louvre's pyramid, the museum sits majestically on the shores of Lake Erie, with its glass-and-steel structure gleaming in the summer sun.
Comparisons with the Louvre are inevitable as it was designed by the same Chinese architect, I. M. Pei.
For accessibility alone, the museum is worth visiting.
It helps that the museum was constructed next to the Cleveland Browns' football stadium, which makes it easily accessible for tourists.
Those driving in from the east side need only exit from Interstate 71 (I-71), while tourists taking the train can alight at the nearby Cleveland Amtrak station.
As for backpackers traveling on a shoestring budget and making the trip on a Greyhound bus like myself, it only takes 10 minutes to walk from the Cleveland Greyhound station to Rock and Roll Boulevard, off East 9th Street, where the museum is located.
What is also intriguing to learn is why the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was built in Cleveland in the first place. When people talk about Rock and Roll the towns that come to mind are places like Memphis in Tennessee, where Elvis Presley cut most of his groundbreaking records, or Detroit in Michigan, where punk pioneers the Stooges and MC5 started their revolution, or New York, where almost everything happened in the mid 1960s.
The ultimate reason for the museum being constructed in Cleveland was money.
Most music industry professionals agree that Cleveland was selected because the city offered the best financial package, as much as US$65 million according to some estimates, much better than what Memphis, Cincinnati or New York had to offer.
The irony was not lost on me as I entered the museum to the sound of Pink Floyd's "Money", which was blasting away from inside the steel-and-glass structure and resonating through the hot summer air outside the museum.
After shelling out for my ticket I was ready to become a kid in toy land, a student taking Rock and Roll 101, or maybe both, and all for US$22 dollars. It was money well spent.
If you are a rock fetish freak who enjoys catching a glimpse of Joe Strummer's fractured guitars and the handwritten lyrics of Joy Division's "Love Will Tear Us Apart", or in knowing that obscure bands such as the Feelies once shared the bill with the Talking Heads at CBGB, then the Ahmet M. Ertegun Main Exhibit Hall is definitely for you.
Named after the famous founder of Atlantic Records, this section holds a large collection of guitars once used by rock and roll greats from the Eagles' Timothy B. Schmit and Duane Allman to bluesman Elmore James to Duane Eddy.
The ground floor is also dedicated to a chronology of the birth and evolution of rock and roll from the early blues period in the 1930s through to the grunge era of the early 1990s.
Of the around two hours I dedicated to this section, I spent about one-third of the time at the display of rock memorabilia from the punk era. I found that the most impressive item on display was the original artwork for the Talking Heads' album More Songs About Buildings and Food.
I didn't really get what David Byrne wrote on the sleeve of More Songs About Buildings and Food, that the album's front cover was made up of 529 close-up Polaroids, until I saw the display. What I learned from this exhibit was that the album cover was indeed made up of 529 close-up Polaroids put together by Byrne from individual Polaroid shots of band members Tina Weymouth, Christ Frantz, Jerry Harrison and Byrne himself.
I spent roughly an equal amount of my time at ground level looking over the display from the grunge era.
There was nothing outstanding in this section -- no shotgun that Kurt Cobain used to shoot himself in the head 14 years ago and no left-handed Mosrite Gospel guitar he used to flaunt onstage. The memorabilia section for Pearl Jam relied on a vinyl copy of the band's debut album Ten. Man, even I have Vitalogy on black vinyl.
The best exhibits in the main exhibit hall were ones that had nothing to do with relics from a bygone era. I had the most fun with the two exhibits, "500 Songs That Shaped Rock and Roll" and "The Beat Goes On". The former is practically a listening station in which museum patrons can listen to 500 songs that define the rock genre from the 1930s to the late 1990s.
While I was busy with Big Star's "September Gurl" on my headset, I noticed an old man beside me nodding to Fleetwood Mac's "Go Your Own Way". Dancing a little further away was an old lady, I don't know, probably listening to the Bee Gees' "Saturday Night Fever".
As for the Beat Goes On, it was designed merely to show the influence of one band or musician on others. Push Jimi Hendrix's "Little Wing" button on the touch screen and you will get Pearl Jam playing "Yellow Ledbetter", and the similarities could not be more striking.
Five hundred songs that shaped rock and roll? Does it sound familiar? Yes, you're right, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum has a lot to do with Rolling Stone magazine, probably the only magazine that consistently churns out lists of the 500 best in rock and roll.
Magazine publisher Jann S. Wenner is a founder and chief patron of the museum. Wenner was included in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004 for his contributions to the music industry.
There is even an individual section dedicated to chronicling the development of Rolling Stone magazine from a counter-culture publication to an influential corporate magazine.
In this section we can see that notorious killer Charles Manson once sent a letter to the editors of the magazine demanding more balanced coverage of his murder trial.
Also there is a warning letter to Rolling Stone reporters against the use of drugs in the newsroom. What really surprised me is that the sports editor of Rolling Stone magazine, Raoul Duke, a pseudonym for gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson, issued this warning. Since when was he a sober journalist?
The main and best thing that the Hall of Fame has to offer, however, is on the top level. Here you can find an exhibit titled Help!, which honors Liverpool legends the Beatles, and another one called Break On Through: The Lasting Legacy of the Doors. Both exhibits run through Sept. 1.
I am not a big fan of the Fab Four so I completely skipped Help! and went directly to the Doors exhibit. Inside the darkened exhibition hall was a display of items from the Doors, mostly belonging to band leader Jim Morrison.
Museum curators seemed to have outdone themselves by securing some important missing links in Morrison's life and death. One item of great value was a letter sent by the U.S. Embassy in Paris to Morrison's father, Admiral George Stephen Morrison, notifying him of the death of his son.
At least from this document we could learn that Morrison is listed as a "singer".
Also on display was Ray Manzarek's Vox Continental electronic organ, the instrument that gave the Doors their signature sound. Sitting next to John Densmore's tabla, the instrument looked tired and worn. Give a listen to "Light My Fire" and you will know what I mean.
I decided that after six hours in the building, I'd had enough of it all, and as I exited I could hear Jim Morrison belting out "When the Music's Over".
When the music's over Turn out the lights For the music is your special friend Dance on fire as it intends Music is your only friend Until the end.
