Lollapaloozin' it through the summer

By James Eldred
210 west Writer [send email]

In 1992, Lollapalooza was the place to be. Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Ice Cube and The Red Hot Chili Peppers, among many others, took the stage to begin what was to be one of the most influential concert festivals in history. Unfortunately, for me, I was only 12 years old and didn’t get to go. By the time I was old enough to go on my own Metallica was headlining the tour, so what was the point?

Now, over 10 years later, Lollapalooza has returned, and this year not only was I old enough to go, the line-up didn’t stink to high heaven. So I bit the bullet, forked over the 60-plus bucks for a ticket and traveled two hours to Clarkston, Michigan, to see seven bands and bear witness to what would hopefully mark the return of really good rock music.

I don’t know if that’s going to be accomplished with this year’s Lollapalooza, but judging from what I saw, Perry Farrell and company are off to a good start.

Here is how my day unfolded:

1:50 PM: We arrive at Lollapalooza. The beats coming from the second stage can be heard a mile away, which is fortunate, considering that’s how far away we parked.

2:15: We finally make our way past the front gate. Four steps later people are trying to sell us stuff at a huge merchandise area that I will from now on call the ‘Lollamall.’ I quickly snag a program ($10) and try to make my way past the piercers, tattoo artists and other assorted culture merchants for the main stage, because Rooney starts in 10 minutes.

2:25: We get to our seats as Rooney takes the stage. The lawn is already nearly full, but the covered pavilion seating (where we were) was nearly empty. How come the people that pay the most for the best tickets never arrive on time?

Known by many for the semi-hit single “Blue Side” Rooney is only known by me as the band that has the little brother of the kid from Rushmore in it. After hearing their boring power-pop for 20 or so minutes, I think that’s all I’ll ever know them as.

2:45: I get sick of Rooney and wander towards the Lollamall. The first thing I see is a body painting booth that featuring a huge sign proclaiming: “PAINT YOUR FACE, PAINT YOUR ASS, PAINT YOUR TITS!!!” Immediately after seeing that, my eyes jump to the bare, tiger-painted boobs in front of my face. I’ve been here less than an hour and I see my first bare rack, always a good sign for a rockin’ concert.

3:00: After checking out the various clothing, accessory, skateboard, quilt and art booths, I learn one thing; you can freaking make anything out of hemp!

3:25: It sounds like a good time is being had at the second stage, but they don’t have The Donnas so I rush to my seat to catch my favorite pop/rock band with big tits. They perform a decent enough set, but seeing them is reward enough. Halfway through their 45-minute set, they point out their biggest fan, who is sporting a super-bitchin’ mullet. The girl next to him is sporting a very fine pair of bare painted breasts, the fourth pair of I’ve seen so far today -- tying my previous record set at a 1994 Ozzy concert.

4:00: I return to the Lollamall to browse the art/body art vendors while yet another woman with a bare painted chest is getting gawked at by men who know fine art when they see it. She seems very upset about it.

Now, I know that the ‘she’s asking for it’ line is no excuse, but I’m sorry, if you take your shirt off and have a pair of sunflowers airbrushed onto your knockers ….

4:15 I see a woman that should obviously not be going topless and painted doing just that. In my stare of pain and awe I realize that all the ‘topless’ girls are wearing pasties. I feel betrayed and sad.

4:30: The Jurassic 5 take the stage, emerging from a giant gold-platted turntable that opens like giant palace doors. I need one of those. If I left for work by emerging from a giant gold turntable, I could face my day with a little more ease. Jurassic 5 amazes the theatre, which is now about half-full.

5:35: Right on time, the gods of ‘stoner metal’ The Queens of the Stone Age take the stage. Their bass player is scary, serial-killer scary. Dude must be six-plus feet tall, totally ripped, and covered in tattoos. Add to that his bright red goatee and screaming vocals and you get the second-scariest bass player in music, right behind the dude from System Of A Down. The two should do a team-up or something.

Immediately after the Queens wrap their set, the Bellydance Superstars take the stage, which leads me to wonder, how does one become a superstar of belly dancing? Are there auditions? Competitions that start on the local level and work their way up to the national championships? Or are they just five chicks that are pretty good at shaking their asses and decided to make a buck off it? If that’s the case, then I declare myself a Bellydance Superstar, because I shake ass like no one’s business.

6:30: I head down to the second stage, where all the ‘cool kids’ are, the ones that are too hip for Audioslave. The Distillers are delivering a particularly aggressive set while some guy in a cape and a mask at the ‘Booty Camp’ makes passersby do insanely stupid things for incredibly small prizes. Next to that freak, I try my hand at the turntable academy for beginners and prove once again that I have no skillz or mad beats.

6:40: The Axis of Justice, Tom Morello of Audioslave’s left-wing political group, has a very large booth by the second stage, and Tom happens to be signing autographs there. Tom, only having an hour or so before his set on the main stage begins, signs like a man possessed, barely taking time to look up at the people in the line. Still, it’s nice that he made the time to see the fans up close.

7:00: Between all the shops and political causes present at Lollapalooza, I realize that you could come to this concert as a conservatively dressed, brown-haired Republican, and leave as a pierced, tattooed, blue-haired communist in a kilt.

7:30: Facing near exhaustion from wandering the second stage and the Lollamall, I return to my seat to catch the second half of Incubus’ performance and bear witness to one of the most amazing guitar solos I’ve ever heard, making me forget why I hate the band so much. Then they cut right into “I Wish You Were Here” and I remember again.

8:30: The black curtain drops and Audioslave takes the stage, which has been covered in mirrors and features their drummer facing away from the audience, presumably, so we can all see that he is a briefs man. Audioslave stuns the crowd with the longest and best set of the night, doing about half of their amazing album as well as a few surprise covers, including an acoustic version of “What’s So Funny about Peace Love and Understanding” and an amazing rendition of The White Stripes' “Seven Nation Army.” The Detroit audience went apeshit for this. By the time they closed with their superhit “Cochise” the audience was screaming for more, but unfortunately didn’t get it. I guess Perry has a schedule to maintain.

9:30: During the set change the Lolla Girls take the stage. The Lolla Girls are a group of skankily dressed skanks that dance skanky dances, never removing any bits of their skanky clothes. It’s all the skank of a stripper with none of the rewards, what’s the point?

9:40: In the restroom a drunk seems very upset that no one is using the sinks to relieve themselves; he doesn’t follow his own advice though (thankfully.)

10:00 Jane’s Addiction takes the stage, which has now been transformed into something resembling a gay bar built by NASA. Everything is metallic metal, and a giant metal bridge is near the back of the stage. It is here where Perry jumps out and screams the opening lines to ‘The Mountain Song.’

Perry only addresses the audience twice during his entire set, and barely looks up at them while doing so. In fact, he seems kind of disinterested as a whole, which is a real bummer, considering it’s his tour and all. The Lolla Girls sure as hell are into it though, as they faux make-out, hump luggage and even go spread eagle while hanging upside-down. I would have slipped a 20 in her g-string if I was close enough. About the only interesting thing Perry does is grind against the phallic metal poles on the sides of the stage, which is funny the first five times and eventually becomes disturbing as the night rolls on. As for everyone else in the band, they were so motionless I almost forgot they were there.

10:46: Jane’s Addiction ends their set, having played less than an hour. When they fail to come out for an encore, the audience boos and screams ‘bullshit,’ scarring an otherwise crowd-pleasing day.

By the end of the night, I had seen eight bands, about twice as many boobs, got two contact buzzes and met one guitar god. All in all, I’d call that a good day. Does this new wave of bands represent some upward trend in popular music as Perry Farrell believes? Only time will tell, after all, we didn’t know just how much Lollapalooza ’92 kicked ass until 1994, but here’s hoping.