| Peace, love, and minor rioting |
We are stardust. We are golden. We are angry about the cost of the
veggie burritos.
Now that the last bit of charred rubble has been cleared from Woodstock '99, perhaps it is time to ponder the significance of it all. Can we blame mob mentality for the behavior that marred the festival? Did sub-par campsite amenities set off the violence? Do the prophecies of Nostradamus mention a midget dressed like Jimi Hendrix? A hue and cry over "kids these days" has followed reports of the festival's fiery finale. Pillars of the community have lined up to express shock over the behavior of these mud-caked miscreants. And yet, the words of disbelief seem like those expressed each time a disgruntled former employee goes on a rampage or a sullen teen takes out his classmates with daddy's AK-47. How is shock possible given the frequency of these incidents? Shouldn't we simply enter the casualties into a spreadsheet and wait to see if Alan Greenspan raises interest rates? What was interesting about the "Lord of the Fried" mentality on display in Rome, New York, was the realization that stupidity is always in abundant supply no matter what the external stimuli. Here was a situation where attendees were able to spend the weekend naked, taking drugs and looking at the heretofore hidden body parts of strangers, all the while being serenaded by their favorite bands. And it still wasn't good enough. It was as if the absence of a clearly defined authority figure frustrated the crowd. How can you be disenfranchised and be the franchise all at the same time? I guess you set fire to the smoothie stand. But there was more to Woodstock than frat boys and exploding trailers. There was also a lot of public nudity, which generated controversy among those who feel it is their civic duty to be continuously outraged. Some viewers were appalled that children might be exposed to the unadorned human form. In the interest of journalism, I reviewed tapes of the broadcast. I even looked at some of the passages in slo-mo just to be sure, and I didn't see anything remotely capable of warping a young person's mind. Unless you count all that twitching and grimacing by Alanis Morrisette. Now that was an un-natural act. The music at the festival took a backseat. While no concert including George Clinton & The P-Funk All-Stars can be discounted entirely, most of the bands were a yawn. During the day it was low-cal college rock like The Dave Matthew's Band. At night, the crowd, packed together like canned hams and suffering heat exhaustion, moshed to the testosterone-fueled stylings of Metallica and other bad-attitude bands. The only real entertainment to be found in these performances was watching the bands emerge from their sheltered backstage enclaves and pretend to be upset. Warm Perrier perhaps. All told, my favorite part of Woodstock '99 was not the music, fire, or nudity. It was also not hearing 200,000 sweaty people chant "We want corn!" (The crowd was demanding an encore by the band Korn, but it sounded like some sort of vegan uprising.) The real highlight was watching our beloved MTV VJ's get a dose of the real "real world." All weekend long, Carson, Serena, and the rest of the hipster cognoscenti were on the receiving end of hurled insults and garbage. I'm not sure why, but there was just something deeply satisfying about watching Kurt Loder dodge rotten fruit. If only the festival didn't end so ugly. Could it be that a few boneheads really "ruined it for everyone?" Will the next generation lose their chance to roll in the mud? John Scher, one of the festival's promoters, doesn't seem discouraged. "There's been much worse in Europe at soccer games . . . it wasn't nearly as bad as Altamont," he said, referring to the Rolling Stones concert during which a fan was stabbed to death by a member of the Hell's Angels. Sounds good. In fact, I think we have a ready-made slogan for the first Woodstock of the new millenium. "Woodstock - It's Not as Bad as Altamont!" See you there! |
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