The fact that a generation of inured boomers could find their post-Vietnam voice in Jackson Browne either means that they wouldn't know art if it was floating in their own toilets, or, and maybe more likely, that most boomers decided they didn't really want their rock to be any more important than a Hollywood movie. Something to hum to, to hump to. After all's said and done, I can sympathize. I grow weary of Goodman's all-or-nothing debate. And, yes, corporate rock still sucks.