It’s hard to take the annual Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony seriously, what with the institution inducting Madonna and John Mellencamp earlier this week, while Iggy Pop and the Stooges and Joan Jett
and the Runaways remain unanointed. It’s not that I’m against Madge and
Johnny. But there’s an important difference between innovation and
commercialization, and the first priority of a curating body like the
Rock Hall should be the former. I also know what’s raw power and who
loves rock’n’roll: Pop and Jett are rockers to the gut, in a way Ms.
Ciccone or even Leonard Cohen (also honored) are not. If nothing else,
the former Mr. Osterberg has been making music longer than Mellencamp,
and the erstwhile Ms. Larkin’s career predates Madonna’s by several
years. C’mon people, let’s show some respect.

Thankfully for the
HoF, Pop and Jett also don’t hold grudges, so both performed at the
March 10 induction ceremony. The Stooges played a Madonna tribute at
her request, so really, the Material Girl gets props from me here –
it’s not her I’m bashing. Jett honored the Dave Clark Five. Yeah, it
was a pretty dull year for the HoF.

Fortunately, Jett is getting her props elsewhere: Venus
magazine names her the best female guitarist of all time in its current
issue. I was honored to be one of the judges for this contest, and yes,
I do love me some Joan Jett.
She’s an underrated icon: a proto-punk, a self-made woman, an
independent artist. Because she was a teenage Runaway, because she
plays hard rock rooted in the great bubblegum pop of Tommy James and
the Shondells, because she sports tattoos and leather and that awesome
shag, I think people tend to underrate Joan’s intelligence and
commitment, to write her off as a hair-metal icon. I’ve interviewed her
a couple times, and believe me, she’s a smart cookie, with a
fascinating, important history that someone should document. (Ditto for
Pop, except that someone already has documented it; Paul Trynka’s Iggy Pop: Open Up and Bleed is a rock bio as compelling and complicated as its subject.)

It
was an impossible task to pick 10 guitar goddesses, and I know I
overlooked some people, even some of my personal favorites, like PJ
Harvey (fortunately, she made others’ lists). There’s nothing that, as
the inimitable JFury
would say, gives me a boner like seeing a woman sling an ax. I remember
watching Harvey for the first time at a Manhattan nightclub, back in
the early ‘90s, when so many girls were rocking out – and Jett was
pushing the grrrl revolution on, working with Bikini Kill and
Bratmobile and Babes in Toyland. Madonna was in Harvey’s audience that
night too, because there’s one thing she excels at: knowing a good
thing when she sees it. Now if only she could convince the HoF.