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Prophets in their own land miss out on the honors in rock music, just as they did in the Bible. And surely the most enraging example of this is The Stooges, who have now been turned down for the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame no less than seven times. The blow is all the more bitter in the light of the recent death of Ron Asheton, the man who carved out their sound, for there was no man more dedicated to the cause of rock 'n' roll than he.

As a Brit, this seems incomprehensible. From where I stand, the Stooges are self-evidently more important than many of those who have preceded them into the Hall Of Fame. As John Lennon once asked about fans who yearned for The Beatles to reform, what more could they do? How much more influential could a band be? And how much more could anyone suffer for their art?

Let us remember, when the Stooges blasted forth out of Detroit, they were praised by a few decadent souls, but mocked and vilified by the masses. When the Stooges crashed and burned in 1971 (and again in 1974) succumbing to a slow death by indifference, heroin and audience-thrown projectiles, some of the blame was their own. Yet much, if not all, of the self-destructiveness of the Stooges' last stand derived from a disconnect between the band's sense of their own importance, and that of the music industry that considered them irrelevant.

Thirty years on, it's obvious the Stooges were right, and the industry was wrong. From the Ramones, whose primary inspiration was a Stooges show at New York's Electric Circus, to the Sex Pistols, who covered No Fun, to Kurt Cobain, who so frequently inscribed the name of Raw Power in the list of favorite albums he confided to his journals, the Stooges have shaped today's musical landscape. The Stooges, and their acolytes, have helped the music business accumulate billions of dollars--which makes their rejection even more of an insult.

Why have the Stooges been rejected seven times? One of the criteria seems to be commercial success, yet over the last few years we have seen Iggy Pop, Ron and Scott Asheton, plus the estimable Mike Watt, whip huge audiences into a frenzy that few mainstream bands could match. No, the Stooges didn't sell masses of records. Nor did Little Richard compared to Pat Boone, yet which one sounds crucial today? Why should this band be rejected so many times in favor of bands like The Yardbirds or the Dave Clark Five--or this year's complement of Jeff Beck and Little Anthony & The Imperials? Fine acts as they are, neither can possibly claim to have changed the musical landscape as did the Stooges.

Of course, none of this would matter if Ron Asheton were still with us. This was a man steeped in the mythology of rock 'n' roll, who gave himself up to it. His untimely death over the holiday period robs him of the chance to enter an institution which celebrates it.

In the short term, there is some solace. Injustices have a way of bringing people together, and James Williamson, the man who replaced Ron as lead guitarist in the Stooges but who has hardly spoken to his ex-colleagues in the last 30 years, has made up with Iggy Pop. "If the Stooges do make it into the Hall of Fame, I want to play," he told me. "And I would like to do one of Ron's songs. As a tribute."

If the opportunity continues to elude Williamson, as it did Ron Asheton, it will be a reflection not on him, but on an institution that features "Rock And Roll" in its title, but clearly does not understand it.

Wave your freak flag at www.Mojo4music.com. Paul Trynka is the author of Iggy Pop: Open Up And Bleed.