In the summer of 2011, I spent several weeks traveling around America’s Midwest region. Following an unpleasant 10 hour flight from Dublin to O’Hare Airport, my traveling companion informed me that my first taste of the North American hospitality industry would be via a stay at Chicago’s Hard Rock Hotel. I was of two minds about this information. On the one hand, I’ve always felt there is something inescapably unpleasant about the Hard Rock brand. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but there’s just something inherently cynical about Hard Rock, with its mention triggering that same wince mechanism I feel on seeing a middle aged man in an Ed Hardy t-shirt, a non-motorbike-owning person wearing a Harley Davidson jacket or Guy Fieri.
On the other hand, I love all that tack, and the friend who made the reservation knew it. It may well be true that rock ‘n roll is a ridiculous business, but when I hear that hi-hat-count-in to Back In Black, the opening riff to Welcome to the Jungle, or Dee Dee Ramone yelling “1, 2, 3, 4…” all cynicism disappears and the music takes over. It was, therefore, with equal parts shame and relish that I spent 2 nights in the Hard Rock Hotel on Michigan Avenue in the heart of downtown Chicago. Due to a spot of jet lag, I woke up particularly early on my first morning and so spent considerable time wandering the entirety of the hotel’s hall. Every floor of the Chicago’s Hard Rock Hotel features at least one piece of Rock (self consciously capitalized here) memorabilia, here’s some of what I saw.