This week everyone sang about the anniversary of the first Woodstock, those 3 days of peace and love in upstate New York that had nothing to do with Mel Brooks or heart-shaped spas.
I admit that that wild weekend in August 1969 was a watershed moment for the decade, with the debut of “The Munsters” in 1964 and Tupperware’s arrival in Europe in 1960. However, for other people like me, who grew up in the self-centered days of Atari coffee mugs, Michael J. Fox and Garfield, Woodstock, just another lifeless access in our history books (like Teapot Dome with some fuzzy, misplaced breasts). In addition, they could not even convince Tommy James and the Shondells to exhibit themselves in this dog’s house. What kind of drug-filled hippie festival were they looking to set up there?
Honestly, if you need to criticize me for a corporate music festival masquerading as some kind of vital cultural occasion for the younger generation, you better be sure to shout about Woodstock ’94 (which today quietly celebrates its 20th birthday in the shadow of its older, more established sibling). It’s the huge amount of cash and unnecessary nostalgia that stuck with me.
The memories are still as bright as ever. Well, it turns out she was watching the liberating, mustachioed antics of Jackyl’s lead singer, Jesse James Dupree, on the Woodstock ’94 Pay-Per-View special. Please don’t tell me that this band’s performance of Headed for Destruction doesn’t strike a chord with you or your loved ones, because this performance was aimed at all American citizens at the time Jesse came on board. stage in his striking white tuxedo and his giant hat with the American flag. And you imagine Steven Tyler knew how to wear ostentatious headdresses.
Of course, what most people don’t forget about Woodstock 1994 (aside from MTV’s poor media policy and the inexplicable presence of Roguish Armament and Huffamoose) is the mud. Oh, the mud. It was on the ground, in the crowd, on the sidelines, in the drinking water, gushing out of reporters’ microphones and flowing dramatically from Calvert DeForest’s ear canal. Some Woodstock 94 attendees scoffed at the mud, such as Les Claypool of Primus. (his call is HYPOCRITE), but the greatest joy discovered in the excess of watery soil.
Green Day has organized a massive exposure stunt around this topic. Nine Inch Nails used it as a prop to accentuate their dirty and creepy commercial sounds. In fact, the dust of Woodstock 1994 played a major role in defining the festival as the unhealthiest occasion since the first Woodstock (or Rick James’s first week in prison).
Speaking of other people who weren’t there for those two extra days of peace and love (and delicious Pepsi, the choice of a new generation), many big-name artists were inexplicably absent from the Woodstock ’94 lineup. Pearl Jam or Soundgarden or the Beastie Boys or Smashing Pumpkins or even that damn Dr. Dre? What were those motherfuckers doing this weekend? Take to Lollapalooza? Play Sega Genesis? Are you participating in any other early ’90s comedy activities?
The election revolution had reached a critical mass and did we have Billy Corgan’s Blind Melon?Weak sauce, brother. Thank goodness, the Rollins Band and Cypress Hill were on hand to fix the serious credibility issues facing this multibillion-dollar agricultural business.
On a similar subject, I think Woodstock ’94 hosted one of Metallica’s last “classic” performances, which is one of the last shows before Metallica hired a professional stylist, released the slide guitars, and sometimes started behaving like the rich. they knew they were.
Someone will erect a monument to Saugerties, to James Hetfield’s old hair, the once powerful and heavy mane of steel that ordered an army of dirty young Americans to swing in a pure, unadulterated way. Future generations will be aware that at one time, the biggest thrash band didn’t. He doesn’t look like a renegade from GQ.
There’s no denying that Woodstock ’94 is a bit silly in concept and execution. However, it may have been much worse. I cite the rumor that Kiss gave an unholy amount of cash to gather their original line-up and name (this when Kiss was still without makeup, not knowing that no one was looking to see a group of leather-clad gray-haired old men). the boys pretend to be a court order).
I can’t believe a more transparent attempt to increase ticket prices while avoiding what little spirit of the original festival remains. Oh wait, yes I can, how about we look to reunite Nirvana with a new singer less than six months after Kurt? Cobain’s death? Apparently, the other people behind W’94 have also been looking to put this dastardly plan into action.
Let’s warn for a minute. It’s August 1994. Who could update Kurt Cobain in a reconstituted Nirvana?The list is short. Old bastard. Régis Philbin. That boy from “Squirt TV”. I’m not kidding. Kurt was one of a million boys, and no one may ever fill his tattered Converse shoes again. . . not even Gene Simmons.
If the original Woodstock was a snapshot of the changing generational sand, Woodstock ’94 was a snapshot of a loosely organized circle of relatives gathering where a group of distant relatives you’re not sure you recognize show up at the open bar. Multi-day rock concerts had become commonplace years before this unnecessary sequel, and an air of “does this mean anything?” it floated over the process like a stale fart.
For me and for virtually everyone I knew, the answer to this question was a resounding “not at all. “We were the Beavis generation.
However, I don’t openly reject Woodstock 2: The Quest for More Money. There were some red-hot performances. This gave the United States something to talk about for a week or two. I can’t directly relate it to any misfortune or pain I experienced that year. WS ’94 probably wouldn’t have been as significant or explosive as Woodstock ’69, but in fact it was a lot cooler than Woodstock ’99 (two days of beer pong, rioting, and sexual assault). I shudder at Limp Bizkit’s tinged memories of that soulless pile of shit.
This feature first appeared on Classic Rock’s online page in August 2014, adapted from a blog post by James Greene Jr. published in 2009. Used with permission.
James Greene, Jr. is a freelance editor who has contributed to Crawdaddy!, New York Press, Splitsider, PopMatters, Spin, and Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader. He is the author of This Music Leaves Stains: The Complete Story of the Misfits and Brave Punk World: The International Rock Underground from Red Alert to Z-Off.
“God punishes me for my beyond evil by keeping me alive and making me suffer as much as he can”: The tortured and tumultuous life of the afterlife Ginger Baker
“The explanation for why I never made it because I never cared if I made it or not”: The life and death of guitarist Roy Buchanan
“It was definitely part of what animated Robert Plant and Ian Gillan’s singing”: Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson on the bluesman who encouraged great rock singers
Louder is from Future plc, a foreign media organization and leading virtual publisher. Visit our corporate site.