After watching the Behind the Music on Rick Springfield, it really sunk it that there's a huge difference between music that happens to find its biggest audience with teenage girls and music that is created specifically to appeal to teenage girls. Rio by Duran Duran and "Jessie's Girl" may be guilty pleasures, but they are pleasures nonetheless, while the works of Journey and New Kids on the Block are still painful.

Proving that Rick Springfield does have a sense of humor, he is embarking on his "1st Annual Farewell Tour." Tickets went on sale today for his June 14 appearances at the Navy Pier Skyline Stage. Can't say I plan to attend, but I do admire his wit.

Yesterday morning I read the Reuters news story on the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony. According to the report, the Clash presentation was made by Tom Morello, formerly of Rage Against the Madness [sic]. I wondered what sort of bozo they had covering the event who didn't even know the correct name of one of the biggest rock bands of the '90s. I checked the byline: Larry Fine. It wasn't a bozo; it was a Stooge.

The error was corrected by later in the day.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony is tonight. Time to reflect on the inductees, the induction and the process as a whole.

The Ramones redistilled rock and roll to three chords and three-minute songs. The Sex Pistols were all about theatrics and staged outrage. But the Clash gave punk both the heart and the brains. They were politically and musically aware. Their music was visceral but lyrically substantive - it had a good beat and you could think to it. They stood up for social injustice in ways that many modern-day musicians won't out of fear of alienating their audience. And it'll be bittersweet to see them honored after Joe Strummer's death. At least, unlike the Ramones, it didn't take the sentimentality of someone's untimely death for them to get the nod.

Elvis Costello's even brainier than the Sex Pistols. I've already enthused about his career in Best of 2002 entry on December 20. What can you say about the man who has written the best pop song ever about senility, and that its popularity became an albatross?

The Police hold a unique place in music history as probably the only popular trio in which the guitarist was the least interesting member. Like Elvis Costello, like had a sharp lyricist in Sting. Like the Clash, they built their musical foundation on the brashness and exuberance of punk and the syncopated rhythms of reggae. But they moved beyond such basics, especially with the help of Stewart Copeland's complex drumming. No wonder guitarist Andy Summers was overshadowed.

I'll have to admit that I've come around somewhat on AC/DC. They were at their commercial peak when I was in high school, and they were among the groups banned from my car radio along with Ozzy Osbourne and Journey. About 20 years on, Journey still suck and Ozzy's entertainment value has very little to do with his music. And maybe AC/DC aren't so bad after all. They've been influential, and they're certainly better than the hair metal that arrived later in the '80s. I reviewed one of their concerts in 1990 as a favor to a friend, and they exceeded my low expectations.

The degree of commercial and musical impact comes into question with both the Righteous Brothers and others who have yet to make it past the nomination stage. The Righteous Brothers are well past their initial eligibility year of 25 years from the first recording. The fact that it took this long for them to be inducted shows the balance of factors needed to make the cut. The Righteous Brothers were very popular and very talented, but the never revolutionized rock, and they left no obvious wake of influence on later musicians. By contrast, the Stooges were revolutionary and had a massive impact on followers but were never popular, so they still haven't been tapped for induction. Looking down the line, does this mean that someone like Bon Jovi deserves recognition? They aren't revolutionary, but they are very popular. They were the biggest of the hair metal bands, clearly an inspiration for many others, but does that mean that they should be awarded for both creating crap and inspiring more of it?

There's also the question of who makes the presentations of the individual artists. Last year it made sense to have Anthony Kiedis and Eddie Vedder as presenters since they are likely to be inducted with their own bands eventually. But the Talking Heads' and Ramones' influence on the two musicians wasn't obvious until they made their heartfelt speeches. It is premature to call Alicia Keys a shoo-in for later induction, but her speech for Isaac Hayes showed that she grasped his musical and larger social impact and that his music is part of her life. Jakob Dylan has yet to match his father's talent, but his recalling his envy of Tom Petty's kids for having Tom as a father was a unique perspective. Then there was Jewel, a pleasant singer of little consequence who read her induction speech about Brenda Lee like a high school student who had just done her research the night before. I haven't heard who will be making the presentations tonight, but I can only hope they find people who are worthy and articulate.

The ceremony will air on VH-1 on Sunday, March 16 at 9 and 11 p.m. ET.

Last night, I attended a party for Chunklet at Quimby's. A copy of the latest issue, with the "Pay to Not Play" cover story, provided endless entertainment during the lulls between calls when I was volunteering at the WLUW pledge drive, and it didn't leave me feeling guilty the way the Double Stuff Oreos did. In the same spirit as the Well Hung at Dawn Column on RollingStone.com, the 'zine pokes fun at bands and makes jokes about semi-obscure music that are funny just for the obscurity of it. For example, a piece in Chunklet pondered which label was most likely to reissue Hunters & Collectors albums. I can think of maybe two people other than myself in the whole United States who even know of Hunters & Collectors well enough to care.

Issue 17 of the irregularly-produced Chunklet is available at Quimby's, from the Chunklet web site, or I suppose wherever else fine zines with irregular production schedules are sold.

If only it were true.

I recently received email with the subject line "Geek Music Library New Webpage." Suddenly my mind was swirling. Was it a library of music by geeks, a whole collection devoted to works by the likes of They Might Be Giants and the Talking Heads? Was it music about geeks, and I couldn't think of anything other than the Dr. Demento hit "Pencil Neck Geek"? Or was it simply a library for music geeks, people such as myself and those chronicled in High Fidelity who obsess over the minutia of music?

Sadly, it was none of those. It was just a typo in an announcement about a Greek music library. The email, from the library in Greece, had other misspellings, but I can't scoff because the writer's English is still far better than my Greek.

Today is my birthday, which gives me cause to reflect on happy musical memories of birthdays past.

1979 I get Cruisin' by the Village People, with the song "Y.M.C.A." as a bat mitzvah gift.
1982 I have recently broken up with my first boyfriend. I no longer pretend to be a Beatles fan to win him over. I have nothing against the Beatles, but there are lots of bands I'd rather listen to, like the Police.
1987 My alarm clock goes off and I hear "With or Without You," the first single off The Joshua Tree, for the first time.
1992 I interview David Gedge of the Wedding Present for the first time.  Later that day, at my request, my brother gives me the The Trouser Press Record Guide for my birthday. Little did I imagine that years later I'd be writing about David Gedge for another incarnation of Trouser Press.
1998 I see Fatboy Slim for the first time.
1999 I see Love and Rockets on what turns out to be their final tour the night before my birthday and write the review of the show on the day itself.
2002 My husband gets me Message in a Box, the Police box set, for my birthday. Scarily, I guess what it is from the shape of the package. Listening to it makes me feel 16 years old again for all the good reasons (see description of 1982 above.)

Alas, this isn't looking like a good year for forming new musical memories.

Concert Review: The Detroit Cobras and the Greenhornes, Friday Feb. 28, Double Door

The Greenhornes displayed why they have largely been just a footnote in all the neo-garage movement press. They lacked charisma. They lacked enthusiasm. Their best song was a cover I can't quick place although it sounds like it should have been a Nuggets track. The band is just a pastiche, an excuse for the stylized haircuts and retro typeface of their logo.

Fortunately, the Detroit Cobras had the spirit that the Greenhornes lacked. They looked like degenerates, and I mean that as a compliment. Throaty singer Rachel Nagy exhorted the audience to start dancing, but the rest of the band provided reason enough. As a cover band, albeit one that chooses obscure songs to cover, they will never change rock and roll. But if all the punk kids from all the high schools joined forces to hold their own prom, the Detroit Cobras would be the perfect band.

The most laughable consequence of the Nirvana revolution was the birth of the fake indie label. Eager to capitalize on Nirvana's success, the major record labels signed lots of independent label bands, causing some purists to lament the indie labels being used as farm teams. The majors bought ownership stakes in other indie labels, causing some purists to wonder whether, say, Sub Pop was still really an indie label if Warner Brothers controlled a big chunk of their stock. When there was nothing left to buy, some major labels resorting to manufacturing indie credibility by setting up new imprints that were designed to resemble indie labels. They used intentionally amateurish graphics and minimized to logos of the real corporate behemoths that were the ultimate owners.

The scheme fizzled. Anyone who really cared about indie cred, who had brand loyalty to SST or the indie ethos in general saw through such chicanery. Anyone who didn't care about indie cred didn't pay enough attention to labels to make the scheme worth the effort. The trend died long before the majors realized that Babes in Toyland and their ilk were never going to have multi-platinum albums and before the cool, marginal bands broke up or retreated to the indies.

I was reminded of this because I just received a mailing from one of the satellite radio companies. Rather like the products on the fake indie labels, it was too conspicuously devoid of corporate logos, too conspicuously "badly" printed to look like a zine on newsprint. The corporate behemoth was trying painfully hard to look like a renegade outsider while also, eventually, promoting that they have ESPN radio, i.e. part of the Disney empire.

I can see the value of satellite radio, rather like cable TV, in the ability to narrowcast. On a recent vacation, my parents really enjoyed the "best of Broadway" station on their rental car's satellite radio; it's a musical taste to which broadcast radio stations can't afford to cater. But the companies shouldn't try to imply their indie cred to the few people who are informed enough to know better. I'm guessing I'll still need to tune in to my favorite college station if I want to hear both Gang of Four and Radio 4.

Concert Recommendations for Friday, Feb. 28:
Detroit Cobras with the Greenhornes and the Drapes, 10 p.m., Double Door, 1572 N Milwaukee, Chicago, 773.489.3160
Ladytron with Simian and Out Hud, 10 p.m., Metro, 3730 N. Clark, Chicago, 773.549.0203

Friday is a good night for concerts in Chicago. The Detroit Cobras ply old soul covers but make them their own. Singer Rachel Nagy's presence comes across even in recording, and the rest of the band takes a garage/rockabilly approach rather than a strictly historical recreation. The Greenhornes are getting press as part of the neo-garage movement, which bodes well for the Double Door line-up.

Meanwhile, Ladytron are at the Metro doing vaguely kitschy synth pop, not until Stereo Total.

BTW, the Double Door does have a web site but I refuse to link to it in principle. The Metro site is annoying with its Flash splash page, but at least it doesn't force you to listen to music like the Double Door site does.

I didn't really go out of my way to watch the Grammy Awards, missing the first hour.  Particularly in the rock/pop realm, the Academy has too much of a tendency to reward what sells well over what has genuine artistic merit, then realize their errors by rewarding late-career works by artists who are past their creative peak, if they get around to it.

But especially after Ricky Martin's career-making performance 1999, it's been worth it if only for the occasionally inspired live act. If nothing else, this would seem to be the one television performance where the audience can be assured that no one will lip synch.

The Bee Gees were awarded for their best work back in the '70s; they got an uninspired live tribute. *N Sync sucked the soul out of the Bee Gee's blue eyed soul. The Clash never won a Grammy, so the Academy did their belated best to memorialize Joe Strummer. Well, not quite their best. Rather than recruiting the most appropriate musicians to play a tribute, they roped in the most appropriate musicians who were going to be at the show anyway. So rather than a real all-star tribute, you got two big stars, a guy in the same band as one of the stars but not quite a star in his own right, and a guy whose second-string band wouldn't get nearly as much attention if the lead singer hadn't been in one of rock's most important bands ever. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Elvis Costello, Bruce Springsteen, Little Steven and Dave Grohl.

On one hand, I really like urban documentary songwriting on the Streets' debut, Original Pirate Material. It's more hip-hop than punk, but the occasionally reggae-influenced beats suggest an update on Clash motifs. But it's really hard to take sole Street Mike Skinner's toughness seriously when he sounds like someone I could beat up.

I'll get the chance to size him up in person on Monday, March 17 at the Metro. Tickets go on sale this Saturday.

WZZN-FM 94.7's previous incarnation as "The Eighties Channel" reminded me of the stupidest public statements by radio executives. In touting the concept to the press, some high muckety muck from the station told a Chicago Tribune reporter that the '80s was the last time everybody listened to the same music. To avoid using a cruder expression such as, "He had his head up his own ass," I'll just say that the guy clearly had blinders on if he believes that. To put it one way, in the '80s I listened to Hüsker Dü, but I was subjected to Bryan Adams. To put it another way, I didn't hear Neil Diamond, the Chills or Dazz Band on "The Eighties Channel." There was a lot more to the music of that decade than what they played on that station, and the listen audience was already segmented back then.

But obliviousness about '80s radio doesn't just happen in hindsight. In 1989, the New Music Seminar was the most important event in the industry. A panel originally entitled "Does Radio Suck?" was renamed "Why Does Radio Suck?" because, as the moderator pointed out, otherwise everyone would answer the initial question "Yes," and we'd be done in five minutes. So in pondering why radio sucks, a high muckety muck from a Top 40 -- excuse me, Contemporary Hit Radio station bragged that only his format played new artists. Someone from Beggars Banquet quickly challenged this dubious claim, "thanking" him for playing the "new" band Love & Rockets since no one had ever played them before. At the time, L&R were enjoying their first mainstream success with "So Alive" after three albums worth of airplay on college radio.

Most recently, stupidity surfaced in Entertainment Weekly. In response to an article on satellite radio and particularly how it allows DJs more creative freedom than the tightly controlled, market research driven broadcast radio stations, Steve Smith, Production Director/Imagining Director of Clear Channel wrote in. "If you are actually looking for a station that will play Norah Jones, B-Tribe, Ned Otter, etc., then look for you closest college radio station. Give them a good listen. I guarantee you that after 30 minutes of pure hell, you will switch back to a Clear Channel station because we play the hits." Pure hell? Then why do I regularly leave my radio on WLUW, Loyala's station, and only listen to Clear Channel in my car with lots of presets so that I can get away from that "pure hell" after a song or two?

As long as radio is in the business of selling advertising rather than music, commercial radio will, on the whole, suck. It's laughable that radio executives try to pretend otherwise. I've certainly heard good songs on commercial stations, but that's just something squeezed in between the ads.

Concert review: Paul Weller, Saturday Feb. 15, The Vic

I gotta stop spending so much time reading British music magazines. In England, Paul Weller is a deity, and I was infected by the worship. I'd always liked the Jam and Style Council, but certainly never loved them. I got a promo copy of his 1995 solo album Stanley Road, and while I've enjoyed, it never took up semi-permanent residence in the CD player. But his new album Illumination and its first single "It's Written in the Stars" have been getting good press. So I went into the show hoping to be converted from someone who respected him to an actual fan. He certainly did his best, with an energized, enthusiastic performance. Despite his forgetting to remove his backstage pass, the guy still radiates coolness. But I was never transformed.

Still, I'm glad I gave it shot rather than going to see the Pretenders coast on their past glories yet again. And his cover of "What's Going On?" was especially timely and poignant, especially with the line, "War is not the answer."

Chicago's WZZN, 94.7, has gone through a circular evolution.  Initially they called themselves "the '80s station" but soon discovered that the format was a novelty that wore off quickly for listeners. So they became "The Zone." The implied pitch was, "We play alternative, but not that really noisy stuff they play on Q101." Then they gave up on that, and the only discernible difference was that the Zone actively courted a female audience while Q101 is indifferent to that half of the population.

And I thought they had happily carved out that niche until I was listening today. They claim it's "today's new music first," but it's really just a trip back to Altera-'80s. They played American Hi-Fi's "The Art of Losing" which lifts the drum pattern from the Adam Ant theme song "Antmusic" and quotes the chorus of "Kids in America." Next up was the guitar riff from the Cult's "Fire Woman." Yeah, it was part of some Foo Fighters song, but the back-to-back '80s references, coupled with their being the only commercial station to play Interpol suggests they are reverting to the original game plan.

Concert Recommendation: Apples in Stereo, Friday Feb. 14, Abbey Pub

As with last week's Luna shows, I'm halfhearted in touting this one. At least Luna had a history of greatness, but Apples in Stereo has a limited track record for me. I've only seen them once and found them disappointing, but it was also the same day I was turned down for a job I was really excited about, so their failure to move me may not have been their fault. In their favor: several great albums. Tone Soul Evolution was one of my favorite discs of 1997. I've only heard Discovery of a World Inside the Moone once or twice, but it continued their streak of wonderful indie pop. It's like '60s bubblegum music but with an air of sophistication.

So they're probably best avoided if you're really bummed about Valentine's Day, but worth a shot otherwise.

Alejandro Escovedo is also in town that night and is always mesmerizing, but both his shows at the Old Town School of Folk Music is already sold out.

Concert Review:  Luna, Thursday Feb. 6, Abbey Pub

Clearly Luna were having an off night when I saw them two years ago because they were back on form last night at the Abbey Pub. During "Friendly Advice," Dean Wareham and Sean Eden made a strong case for the electric guitar being the greatest invention of the 20th century.  "23 Minutes in Brussels" has to be the sexiest song ever to reference Belgium.

When I interviewed Palmyra Delran of the Friggs a few years ago, we talked about her Pink Slip Daddy bandmate Mick Cancer becoming so engrossed in performing that it was like he was off in another place. Luna went there and brought along passengers.

The same could not be said for openers Slumber Party. They generated some good fuzzy drone and droning fuzz with occasional Jesus & Mary Chain-worthy feedback, but they were lifeless. The drummer for the all-female quartet was especially Stepford Wife-like. Call me an old-school punk, but what you lack in technique you should make up for in passion. And the biggest shortcoming of the Pavement school of indie rock is too many bands with neither technique nor passion. My college art professor who used Brian Eno's "Needle in the Camel's Eye" to illustrate negative space also declared that there is a big difference between painting, writing or making music because it's a nice thing to do and needing to create. Slumber Party were playing because it was nice. Luna need to do it.

Luna play the Abbey Pub again tonight, but it is sold out.

I was reading a magazine recently with a photo of the White Stripes and was suddenly struck by how much Meg White and I look alike. I don't mean in the way that my friend with really long blonde hair who went to concerts frequented by Smashing Pumpkins fan was mistaken for D'Arcy in the early '90s; that was the product of a generic distinctive trait. No, in the sense that if I were to shun makeup, severely pluck my eyebrows and wear my hair in long pigtails (three things I am highly unlikely to do), I probably wouldn't even need to don the White Stripes team colors for hipsters to assume that I were she. Especially in England, I could really have lots of fun exploiting someone else's fame. Just think of the false rumors of celebrity sightings I could instigate. Or the free drinks I could score. Good thing I'm an ethical person. Or that I'm not willing to pluck my eyebrows that thin.

Or maybe it was just the camera angle in that particular photo.

Anyway, if there's a chance of being mistaken for a famous person, I could do far worse. She's not someone I aspire to emulate, but it's cooler than when someone repeatedly yelled "Spice Girls!" out a car window at me because of the dress I was wearing.

If you enjoy hearing music on the radio that they don't play on commercial radio, then please consider volunteering for the WLUW pledge drive from February 12 to 22.  If you don't have the time, then tune in during the pledge drive and donate money.

The only down side: you'll also be supporting having the wire service news read in a monotone and with numerous mispronunciations (my only pet peeve about the station). I haven't decided if that's better or worse than WNUR, the home of squawky saxophone music. Their phoneathon starts February 20.

The only good thing about the Columbia tragedy is that would-be space traveler Lance Bass wasn't aboard. It's not that I think he deserves to live more than the seven brave astronauts. But this way *N Sync can continue their gradual descent into obscurity unfettered rather than having their status propped up by martyrdom. Say what you will about the acting careers of various New Kids on the Block, but at least we no longer have to hear them sing.

Concert Recommendation:  Luna, Thursday Feb. 6 and Friday Feb. 7, Abbey Pub

Gotta admit I'm a little hesitant to give a full-on recommendation for this show. In the mid 90s, Luna had been a reliably mesmerizing live act, and their second album, 1994's Bewitched, is still quite bewitching. But the last time I saw them, about two years ago at the Double Door, they were just so-so. On the other hand, one of the members, most likely leader Dean Wareham, was suffering from the flu, so there's good reason to hope it was just an off night. Plus, at the February 2000 show, one member was wearing a Strokes t-shirt, the first I'd heard of that band; I'd noticed the graphic style and assumed it was some obscure '70s band, and then I heard both the hype and the hype-justifying music, so clearly the Luna folks have good taste beyond their obvious Velvet Underground influence. They also scored coolness points for not playing "Slash Your Tires," the closest thing they ever had to a hit record.