“The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is an utter and complete load of bo**ocks,” Bruce Dickinson, lead singer of Iron Maiden, said in 2018. “It’s run by a bunch of sanctimonious bloody Americans who wouldn’t know rock’n’roll if it hit them in the face. They need to stop taking Prozac and start drinking f**king beer.”

There was no such repetition when, a week or two ago, the heavy-metal greats were confirmed as 2026 inductees to the Hall, but the band, launching a 50th-anniversary tour, will not be attending the November ceremony. “In accepting, Iron Maiden made it very clear to the R&R HoF that the fans always come first and that the shows will, of course, go on,” Ron Smallwood, the band’s stalwart manager, commented.

Whatever you may think about the “R&R HoF”, Dickinson’s original statement nicely (well, not nicely, but you know what I mean) sums up a particular gulf between American and British culture. Our friends across the Atlantic absolutely love giving out awards and will show astonishment if any Brit (or Irish person) doesn’t wet themselves upon receiving, say, the Egbert Hookenfatter Medallion for Achievement in Crop Rotation.

Nothing exemplifies this better than Robert Smith’s hilarious response to a journalist before induction to the Hall seven years ago. “Congratulations! The Cure: Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductees 2019! Are you as excited as I am?” the red-carpet reporter literally bellows. “By the sounds of it, no,” Smith, founder of that mordant band, deadpans with a faint smile.

Now viewed more than eight million times, the clip satisfied Cure fans that Smithy had not fallen for the flummery. “We had just come from quite a serious conversation in our dressingroom about what we were doing there,” he later noted.

Rock’n’roll, like the western movie and jazz music, is a quintessentially American invention. You can trace roots back to the folk music of Ireland and Scotland, but the key influences are African-American. It is, however, largely the British who cry foul at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame’s polite formalisation. (Note that, whereas The Irish Times apostrophises “and” to “’n’”, the Hall sticks with its fusty unabridged spelling.)

In 2006, The Sex Pistols, inductees that year, issued a handwritten statement in characteristically unvarnished prose. “Hall of Fame is a piss stain,” it ran. “Were [sic] not coming. Were [sic] not your monkey.”

You will not be surprised to hear that Oasis, on the longlist in 2024, did not bubble with unqualified goodwill. “F**k the Rock n Roll hall of fame its full of BUMBACLARTS,” Liam Gallagher posted on X. “I don’t need some w**k award by some geriatric in a cowboy hat.”

Fuck the Rock n Roll hall of fame its full of BUMBACLARTS LG x

— Liam Gallagher (@liamgallagher) February 12, 2024

They failed to make the final honourees that year, but, alongside their fellow Mancunians New Order, they are facing induction in 2026. Hilariously, Gallagher has revealed that his mam – Peggy from Co Mayo – has talked him into attending. “She thinks I may have been a little hasty with my perception of the organisation,” he said.

The first inductee to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame was Elvis Presley, in 1986. The brainchild of Ahmet Ertegun, founder of Atlantic Records, the organisation, created in 1983, trundled about the United States before settling on Cleveland, Ohio, as permanent home.

A vast pyramidical structure by IM Pei, casting shadow on Lake Erie, confirms rock’n’roll as a subject of pointy-headed study with curated exhibitions on founders and innovators. Look, I’d go if I was there for a weekend.

Americans take the induction process seriously. Every year there are absurd online debates about the “rock’n’roll” credentials of the named artists. A certain type of dad-jean wearer is permanently upset at the inclusion of hip-hop acts such as the 2026 inductees Wu-Tang Clan.

One is tempted to wearily point out that, if one is being strict about the definition of “rock’n’roll,” then few acts that emerged after 1965 would be eligible. Why care about any of it? For this Little Richard hammered his piano into matchwood? For inclusion in a supposedly exclusive club with a meeting house by the Cuyahoga?

Some acts may scoff (as many more play along), but nothing will halt the American addiction to handing out hunks of gilt. For all the supposed independent spirit of the republic, its citizens seem to secretly yearn for the honours system they abandoned in 1776.

Look how they continue to use professional honorifics years after the subject has abandoned the relevant job: Senator This, Secretary That, Groundskeeper Willie (probably). This year they will give way to a record number of British acts at the Hall. Billy Idol, Sade and Phil Collins join those mentioned above. Hardly seems fair. Sade already has an actual CBE.