For most rock and roll enthusiasts, names like “Elvis” and “Dylan” garner the kind of automatic veneration delegated to Mozart and Beethoven in classical circles. Indeed, popular music has certain heroes who seem to stand miles above their peers. But where do we draw the line between the true rock visionaries and the merely talented artists who follow their lead? Who deserves to be remembered for changing the course of modern music for years to come?

In 1983, Ahmet Ertegun was determined to settle the score. The Atlantic Records founder set out to establish a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, paying tribute to rock’s greatest performers and other important figures in the genre’s still-young history. By 1986, Ertegun and a committee of so-called rock experts were ready to honor the first class of inductees, ushering in an era of official recognition for achievement in rock and roll.

Recently, I was greeted with the chance to make a rock pilgrimage of sorts to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. Being a self-professed popular music snob, I naturally approached this commercialized institution with some degree of suspicion. After all, could a panel of critics and label execs really be trusted to spell out the history of rock and roll in fair and accurate terms? Despite my cynical apprehensions, I found myself standing at the museum’s door fully ten minutes before opening time, making me the first over-excited idiot of the day to show up.

Inside, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is a veritable paradise for rock musicologists. With multimedia and artifacts representing every era of rock history, the museum offers a nerdy thrill a minute. Rare footage and objects from popular music legends abounds, as does written material that puts rock lore admirably in perspective. Even when interest in historical minutia begins to wane, it’s difficult to deny the entertainment value of the psychedelic paint job on Janis Joplin’s Porsche or David Bowie’s outrageous stage garb.

Although the museum pays tribute to current inductees and non-inductees alike, those who have been officially honored are enshrined in a video presentation that keeps the focus appropriately on their music. And though it certainly doesn’t hurt to be a multi-platinum megastar, it would be unfair to say that only the most commercially successful artists are candidates for induction. Rather, the primary criterion seems to be far-reaching influence; alternative rock pioneers such as the Velvet Underground and the Ramones have been admitted despite being relative commercial flops in their respective heydays.

In a musical culture so often defined by rebellion against capitalist institution, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame seems to have a sobering effect on its inductees. This, of course, is endlessly ironic because the Hall is as capitalistic and institutionalized as it gets. Yet, even performers with a history of public squabbles with the record industry, like Tom Petty and John Fogerty, have become gracious and enthusiastic acceptors of the honor. Indeed, the Hall of Fame has cultivated an air of legitimacy powerful enough to make many counterculture icons willingly accept a pat on the back from the man.

Not every honoree, however, has responded with such gratitude. When the Sex Pistols received word that they had been chosen as inductees for the Class of 2006, the legendary punks posted a hastily scrawled note on their website, declining to attend the induction ceremony and casting the Hall of Fame as a profiteering “piss stain.” That’s the spirit, lads.

The Sex Pistols’ attitude toward the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has often been echoed by discriminating rock listeners who are offended by the notion of an “official” registry for artistic greatness. The idea of a “hall of fame,” these critics argue, should be reserved for fields such as professional sports, in which individuals can be ranked according to scores and statistics. Popular musicians, whose achievements are subjective and defy quantification, do not fit this mold. Therefore, opponents of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame say, there cannot and should not be any “final word” on who the true geniuses of rock are.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has also come under fire for its loose definition of “rock and roll,” which permits artists from non-rock genres such as jazz and hip hop to be inducted. This year’s induction of Madonna, alongside more traditional “rock” icons including John Mellencamp and the Ventures, drew harsh criticism from strict constructionists of rock. Previous controversial inductees have included hip hop pioneers Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five and jazz trumpet master Miles Davis. For many, it seems as though the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is degenerating into a disjointed who’s-who of music-biz celebrities.

In a sense, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was doomed from the start to be controversial. Whether or not it intends to do so, the institution seems to uphold its inductees as infallible deities. And in the community of self-proclaimed rock critics, nothing is sacred. Rock fans thrive on the thrill of a good argument, challenging prevailing views about greatness and influence and offering up their own takes.

Try asking some popular music nerds who started punk rock. Some will say the Ramones. Others will cite the MC5 or the Stooges. I say the Kinks and the Who had plenty to do with it. The beauty of an argument like this is that it has no definitive answer. The goal of having the discussion is less to prove a point than to probe the knowledge of fellow scholars and share some nuggets of rock lore. These arguments may uncover more common ground than new quarrels, but music nerds maintain just enough discrepancies to pick up the conversation right where it left off.

But what happens when you give a nerd the power to announce the names of rock’s geniuses to the world? My guess is that besides having millions of dollars and a museum at their disposal, the geeks who choose the inductees for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame are no different from the geeks found lingering in record stores around the world. They have their version of rock history, and I have mine.

Walking through the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was like picking the brain of a fellow rock enthusiast. I soaked up every song and story, whether or not I already knew it by heart. I nodded my approval when an exhibit struck just the right chord. I grimaced when things seemed to fall out of tune with my way of thinking. In those cases, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and I would have to agree to disagree. And by that measure, it was one of the best arguments I’ve ever had.