A rock ‘n’ roll marathon

If the idea of slogging through a four-hour concert special that’s as confusing as it is boring to watch holds some appeal for you, then boy has HBO got your number.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Concert, now available on the premium network, features a gross array of classic performers mish-mashed together in odd formation, playing continuously for a long, long time. The set, shot over two days on Oct. 29 and Oct. 30 at Madison Square Garden, was supposed to be in honor of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s 25th anniversary. And it’s successful in that goal, sort of. It’s just not successful as a compelling piece of entertainment.

Most concert films suffer from the same problem: It sure seems like it would have been a lot of fun to be there, but watching it happen after the fact is pure tedium. What’s supposed to hold this particular work together is the surprise factor—you get to watch artists who have never shared the stage (and almost definitely never will again) perform tracks together in a unique setting.

But these unnecessary hybrids are the worst part of the film.

Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel? Fair enough. Metallica and Lou Reed? Um, OK. U2 with Mick Jagger, Will.i.am and Fergie covering “Gimme Shelter?” Get the fuck out. That’s not “honoring rock’s legacy,” it’s ruining a great song by forcing old, talented people to perform with young, untalented people.

While most of the collaborations aren’t quite as disastrous as the one mentioned above, very few of the songs work. The concert is built around headlining performances by Crosby, Stills and Nash, Paul Simon, Stevie Wonder, Metallica, U2 and Bruce Springsteen. Each of those artists then sees several other big-name acts—Aretha Franklin, Tom Morello, John Fogerty and Sam Moore to name a few—hop on stage for a couple minutes and do a sort of medley with everyone else. The pacing is frenetic, but the effect is tiring.

You just stop caring.

To be fair, the sound and camerawork are all top-notch. Even when there are 50 people on stage, nothing becomes lost or muddy. And the editing is clear and useful. It’s the content of the concert that is worthless.

When Bono decides to go into a speech about the danger of building idols and then explains why he and everyone else on stage is so important (thereby negating his point), it’s instructive of the whole Hall of Fame exercise.

“For a lot of us, rock ‘n’ roll means one thing,” he said. “Liberation.”

But rock ‘n’ roll means a lot of things, as much as it means nothing at all. There’s nothing liberating to be found in a rock star justifying their importance. The Hall of Fame suggests, as this concert film does, that the most important part of rock music is the people who created it and made money off of it.

The point? Watching giant egoists stroke their egos ain’t worth shit.