His worldview is narrow and small indeed
In September 2023, a book meant to celebrate rock and roll's greatest voices instead revealed the limits of the hand that held the pen. Jann Wenner, founder of Rolling Stone and decades-long arbiter of musical legitimacy, published a collection of interviews featuring only white men — and then defended the omission with language that dismissed Black and female artists as insufficiently philosophical. The institutional reckoning that followed, including his removal from the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame board, raised a question older than the controversy itself: who decides which voices are worthy of the archive, and what does that choice say about everything we thought we knew?
- Wenner's book 'The Masters' — spanning fifty years of music history — contained not a single woman, not a single Black artist, a silence so loud it became its own statement.
- His explanation made things worse: Black artists weren't part of his 'zeitgeist,' women weren't articulate enough, and even Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, and Curtis Mayfield failed his philosophical threshold.
- The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame board moved with unusual speed, voting on a Saturday to remove Wenner — a rare moment of institutional consequence in an industry that rarely moves at all.
- Living Colour, whose guitarist Vernon Reid helped found the Black Rock Coalition, rejected the apology outright, arguing it only confirmed what the book had already exposed: a worldview narrow enough to call itself 'Masters' while erasing half of music's soul.
- Rolling Stone magazine, now under new ownership and Wenner's own son, rushed to separate itself from its founder, insisting its mission had always been to reflect the full diversity of voices that shape the world.
In September 2023, Jann Wenner — the 77-year-old founder of Rolling Stone — found himself removed from the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Foundation's board after defending a book that had already said everything about him without a word of explanation. The book, called The Masters, collected interviews Wenner had conducted over decades. Every subject was white. Every subject was male. Bono, Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, John Lennon — and no one else. Not Joni Mitchell. Not Tina Turner. Not Stevie Wonder.
When pressed, Wenner explained that Black artists simply weren't part of his "zeitgeist." Women, he added, had failed a different test — they weren't articulate enough, not philosophical in the way his chosen subjects were. He acknowledged that Stevie Wonder was a genius, that Janis Joplin could hold a conversation, that Joni Mitchell was creative. None of it, in his estimation, qualified. The word "Masters," he mused, might have been a poor choice.
The board voted on a Saturday to remove him — nearly unanimously. Hours later, Wenner apologized, saying the book was never meant to represent all of music, only the high points of his own career. Living Colour was unmoved. In a statement, the pioneering funk metal band — whose guitarist Vernon Reid had helped establish the Black Rock Coalition in 1985 — said the apology changed nothing. The title alone was an insult. To call a collection "The Masters" while erasing every Black artist and every woman was not a matter of personal taste; it was gatekeeping, rooted in sexism, and it revealed a man who had spent more than fifty years chronicling music while learning nothing about whose voices deserved to be heard.
The band was specific in its indictment: to claim that Stevie Wonder lacked the articulateness to discuss his own work was not an oversight — it was a verdict. Rolling Stone, now under Penske Media Corporation and led by Wenner's son Gus, moved quickly to distance itself, noting that Wenner had not been involved in operations since 2019 and reaffirming the magazine's commitment to diverse voices. For Living Colour and many others watching, the institutional response — however swift — arrived only after the contradiction had become impossible to ignore.
In September 2023, the rock band Living Colour issued a statement that cut through what they saw as hollow damage control. Days earlier, Jann Wenner, the 77-year-old founder of Rolling Stone magazine, had been removed from the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Foundation's board following an interview with the New York Times in which he defended a new book called The Masters. The book, a collection of interviews Wenner had conducted over decades, contained only white male subjects: Bono, Bob Dylan, Jerry Garcia, Mick Jagger, John Lennon, and others. Not a single woman. Not a single Black artist. Not a single person of color.
When asked why, Wenner had explained that these artists simply weren't part of his "zeitgeist." He later clarified that he meant Black performers specifically when he said that—women, he suggested, had failed a different test. They weren't articulate enough. Not at the intellectual level he required. He acknowledged that Grace Slick and Janis Joplin were conversationalists, that Joni Mitchell was creative, but none of them, in his estimation, qualified as philosophers of rock and roll the way his chosen subjects did. Stevie Wonder was a genius, he conceded, but apparently not articulate enough. Neither was Marvin Gaye. Neither was Curtis Mayfield. The word "Masters" itself, he mused, might have been poorly chosen.
The backlash was swift. An emergency vote of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Foundation's board removed Wenner on a Saturday, with all but one member voting to oust him. Hours later, he issued an apology. He said he had made comments that diminished Black and women artists. He said the book was never meant to represent the whole of music or its diverse originators, only the high points of his own career and the interviews he felt best illustrated his experience. He said he understood the inflammatory nature of his words and accepted the consequences.
Living Colour—the pioneering funk metal band of the 1980s, whose guitarist Vernon Reid had helped establish the Black Rock Coalition in 1985—was not satisfied. In a statement, the band, which includes singer Corey Glover, bassist Doug Wimbish, and drummer Will Calhoun, said the apology did nothing to address the fundamental problem. The very title of the book, they wrote, was an insult. To call a collection "The Masters" while excluding every Black artist and every woman was to reveal something systemic, something that went far deeper than one man's taste. It was gatekeeping. It was exclusionary behavior rooted in sexism. It was the work of someone who had spent more than fifty years chronicling music but had somehow learned nothing about whose voices mattered.
The band singled out Wenner's specific claims. To suggest that Stevie Wonder wasn't articulate enough to discuss his own work was insulting. To exclude Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Tina Turner, and countless other women artists from the status of "Master" was to reveal a worldview that was, as Living Colour put it, "narrow and small indeed." The apology, they concluded, only confirmed what the book itself had already shown: that Wenner's vision of rock and roll's history was fundamentally limited by his own blindness.
Rolling Stone magazine itself, now under different leadership—Wenner's son Gus serves as president and CEO—moved to distance itself from its founder. In a statement, the publication noted that Wenner had not been directly involved in operations since 2019, when the magazine was acquired by Penske Media Corporation. The magazine's purpose, it said, had always been to tell stories that reflected the diversity of voices and experiences that shape the world. Music, they wrote, brings people together rather than dividing them.
Wenner had founded Rolling Stone in 1967 and served as its editor and editorial director until 2019. He had been inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame as a non-performer in 2004 and had served as the Foundation's chairman from 2006 to 2020. His removal from the board marked a rare moment of institutional accountability, though for Living Colour and others watching, it came only after the damage had been named and the contradiction had become impossible to ignore.
Notable Quotes
The very idea of a book called 'The Masters' which blatantly omits the essential contributions of Black, people of color and women to Rock & Pop Culture speaks to a much larger and more systemic problem.— Living Colour statement
To hear that Stevie Wonder isn't articulate enough to express his thoughts on any given subject is quite frankly, insulting. To hear that Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Tina Turner, or any of the many woman artists that he chooses not to mention, are not worthy of the status of Master, smacks of sexist gatekeeping, and exclusionary behavior.— Living Colour statement
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did Living Colour feel the need to respond when Wenner had already apologized?
Because an apology that doesn't address the root problem can feel like an insult itself. Wenner said he was sorry for his words, but he didn't say he was wrong about the book's premise. Living Colour saw that distinction.
What's the difference between saying "I'm sorry I said it badly" and actually reckoning with what you did?
One is about tone. The other is about vision. Wenner's apology treated his exclusions as a mistake in communication, not a failure of judgment. Living Colour was saying: the problem isn't that you phrased it poorly. The problem is that you built an entire book on a lie about who matters.
He did mention some Black artists in the Times interview—Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Curtis Mayfield. Why weren't they good enough?
That's the thing that stung. He acknowledged their genius but then said they didn't meet some invisible standard of articulateness or philosophical depth. It's a way of admitting you know they're great while still excluding them. It's worse than just ignoring them.
Does the fact that Rolling Stone distanced itself from Wenner change anything?
It's a gesture, but it's also convenient. The magazine gets to say it's evolved while the man who built it faces the consequences. Living Colour seemed to be saying: don't congratulate yourselves for finally doing the right thing. This should have been obvious fifty years ago.
What does a book called "The Masters" actually mean now, after all this?
It means whatever Wenner's personal taste was in 1967 and beyond. But Living Colour's point is that calling it that—calling anything that—requires you to answer the question of who you're leaving out and why. He never did.
Is this about Wenner specifically, or about something bigger?
Both. But Living Colour seemed most interested in the bigger thing: how someone can spend a lifetime as a gatekeeper in music and never question who's standing outside the gate.