When I was a teenager, I played in a rock and roll band called Eden Rock. I so desperately wanted to make it as a professional rock and roller that I was practically drooling the first time I stepped foot on the grounds of Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The place was like my Mecca, and I had made the pilgrimage (all the way) from the Motor City. Once inside, I couldn't believe that all that separated me from Ian Anderson's flute was a quarter-inch-thick sheet of glass. There was even a hand-written note paper with the lyrics to Jethro Tull's "Aqualung" displayed in the case alongside the flute.

Then, there was the fabulous Pink Floyd display, a giant recreation the infamous Wall, complete with one of Roger Waters' bass guitars suspended from the ceiling, well out of reach. Of course, as my journey through the Hall neared completion, I couldn't help but be disappointed. Where was the live music? Where was the rock and roll?

The whole thing seemed to me a bit underwhelming. Instead of a live rock band jamming out on a three-foot stage in a crowded bar, there was only a ten-inch screen of Roger Waters explaining why he sued David Gilmour and quit Pink Floyd. Instead of a thumping live drummer and bassist jamming out some legendary rock number like "Stairway to Heaven" or "Fly by Night," I saw a glass-encased display of Video Killed the Radio Star by the Buggles, a one hit wonder band that never made it further than the Yes farm system.

In two words: Who CARES?

I want the rock hall to have rock and roll, not some stuffy museum-like exhibits and little TV screens with talking heads explaining how cool the Beatles were. Do people really care how Paul learned to play the guitar? These guys are rockers for Pete's sake, not historical revolutionaries. Give me the rock and roll, baby.  That's why I  went to the hall of fame.  And without it, that's why I don't intend to return.

Have you been to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame recently? Is it any better these days?