woodskank '94......

....or how I was there without being there, via pay-per-view

Friday was not on pay-per-view. Selected portions of it were on MTV. The Friday line-up was mainly "local" bands and "who-are-they" bands. Excepting King's X (recall the song "Black Flag" from those tapes I gave you last summer) and Sheryl Crow (euuuuugggggghh!!) the Violent Femmes, and--wait for it--ORLEANS.

Whose idea was this? They sound exactly like they did when they released "Dance With Me" (if you're into that) but they don't look like they can do much dancing anymore. And I couldn't see too well on account of the glare off their heads.

The pay-per-view began at noon with Joe Cocker, and of course our F***ING cable company failed to turn us on in time. (I was at work, intending to leave at about 1 PM, and Wendy was home taping the first hour. Or NOT, as it turns out. She had to call and scream at the Cable Lady on the other end of the phone and so she missed the first 15 minutes.)

Anyway, Cocker was great. He did virtually no snappy patter, however. He finished up with the obvious "Help From My Friends," which I came home in the middle of. Just fabulous.

Here's where it gets weird. They had a "north" stage and a "south" stage, about a half mile apart. The idea SHOULD have been: one band plays while the other sets up. Yes? Not. They were running pretty much concurrently the whole weekend. Which would have been annoying but okay if they put all the 20-year-old music on one stage and the Music For 20-year-Olds on the other. Right? NOT. If you went there that weekend to see only two bands, no matter who they were, odds are you would not have been able to see both. This began almost immediately on Saturday as the Cranberries and Blind Melon were both on at the same time. Both "college" music with many of the same audience. So the pay-per-view producer (who was never named) went with Blind Melon. They weren't bad but a little overlong. This also set a tone--most of the artists played for about two hours each. I never expected that.

After Blind Melon was Cypress Hill--EXCRUCIATING--as bad as rap music gets. You may have accidentally been exposed to their big song "Insane In the Membrane." If you have, I recommend drinking Clorox. It won't help but it will in fact kill you and then you won't have to remember having heard Cypress Hill. There was one bright moment in their TWO-HOUR set--when the lead "singer" talked to the crowd near the end and ad-libbed "You guys are a f***in' DOOZY, man." I had not heard the word "doozy" in quite some time--since 1964 or so--and certainly never with such a colorful modifier.

On the other stage at the same time was a fairly wretched Italian band called Zucchero. If my Italian is not too rusty I believe that means "Squash Farmer." And they should get back to the terra and lay off the stupid synthesizers. Their influences appeared to be limited to Dear Mr. Fantasy and The Great Gig In the Sky. We got to hear one song by them.

Following Cypress Hill was Henry Rollins. I love Henry. He's best savored in small doses, though, as he is basically a raw sheared-off nerve-ending with lips. He did three songs, and then he went into a long and riveting introduction to the fourth song, which we never got to hear because, mercifully, the producer decided to cut away to The Band.

Ah! That's more like it. Except that they were a little bit off their game that day (which is still better than anybody else, of course) and the sound mix--which had been absolutely spectacular all day--was suddenly pure crap. Horrible balance.

So, during the fourth song--IN THE MIDDLE OF IT--they cut away to the other stage for one half of one song by Melissa Etheridge. NO NO NO NO NO!!!!! I have nothing against her but I WANNA SEE THE BAND!!! They stay with Miasma for a while and then come back to The Band--just in time for us to have missed the guest shot by Jorma and Jack. HEY!!!!! At least they stayed on as backing musicians for the next few songs, and then out come Bob Weir and Rob Wasserman (who would, unfortunately, break his arm right after this set) to play on I Don't Wanna Hang Up My Rock & Roll Shoes. Then, the whole band leaves the stage except for Weir and Wasserman, who do three songs alone. Then, the pay-per-view producer (I'll henceforth call him the PPP) cuts away--for good--to Crosby Stills and Nash. WHAT??? What idiot scheduled The Band and CSN opposite each other????

Now, a word or nine about the "hosts" of this little TV soiree. Three of the most annoying humans you could imagine. At the south stage, a guy called Chris Jagger. Not Mick's brother Chris Jagger but some really lame American DJ. "Hey, wow, smokin', stone, dude......" And at the north stage, two people. One was Dave Kendall, a very annoying ex-MTV guy. British accent and REAL stupid. He has no idea at all who ANY of the older bands are. And the worst for last: a woman named "Debra" whom you just wanna SMACK as hard as you can. Never at a loss for words, that's for sure. Mile-a-minute bulls**t and cliche. Obviously needed to show you that she did, in fact, know who all the bands were and who had last poinked all their sisters and aunts, as well. Except she slipped up big-time in a couple of places, which I'll save for later. Sample excerpt of her foul spew, and I quote: "Later at the South Stage, Jimmy Cliff, kickin' a little flavah....." STOP!!!!!

So, CSN were their usual great. Stephen's guitar sounded awful though. He got hisself one o'them newfangledy Rack Sister thangs or whatever you call 'em--he who has always been known for the exceptionally warm and ORGANIC sound of his lead guitar, no matter how loudly or quietly he played--this day his solos sounded for all the world like a plastic duck call. Yowp.

The new songs (they have a new LP out this week) weren't bad either.

Since we are now missing entire sets by important performers, we are informed by one of the pay-per-view "hosts" that they will show all the stuff we're missing on the overnight. Remember that, it's important.

It is now dark out and we have missed BOTH Mantissa Etheridge and Youssou N'Dour. Next up is Nine Inch Nails. They are very compelling although I absolutely HATE their music--it's made mainly by machines. The main guy, Trent Reznor, is fairly literate and he makes a great honking growl. Plus they came out in a dark blue light completely covered in fresh mud. I like a band that's willing to work a little bit! So that was fun.

Primus was playing at the south stage but we didn't get to see them on account of Metallica. You really have to see Metallica to believe it. They've done one good song in ten years--a great one in fact--and everything else is CRAP CRAP CRAP. If Harry Shearer, Michael McKean and Christopher Guest set out to satirize a 1990s death metal band it would not be as funny as these guys. And I have not heard the word "f***in'" so many times in the entire rest of my life.

They showed a little bit of Primus while we waited for Aerosmith, who were the closing act Saturday night. They were supposed to be on and off by 1:30 AM but they in fact did not even go on until 2. And here's me, bleary-eyed, with three VCRs set up so I can tape the whole overnight and not miss whatever they'll show by The Band--but I can't start 'em until Aerosmith finishes. Too complicated to explain.

The show is supposed to start at 9:30, so I have set my alarm for 8:00 so I can quick zip thru the overnight tapes and dub off whatever I might want to save. After all, they've showed all the stuff we missed, right? NOT. What they showed all night was highlights of the day, and almost all of it was stuff we'd already seen. The only exception was a couple of M. Etheridge songs. So I did all that for nothing, except we got to see the three Joe Cocker songs the Cable Lady had cheated us out of. So that was good. I had to dub off all these before 9:30, you see, 'cause I was out of tape.

A surprise opener of the show--Country Joe, wearing the same bandana and singing the same song. Nice touch. He wasn't supposed to be there; he was supposed to be in Bethel, where he later went.

You know the next part--it's the Gospel Babes or something like that, with organing by Al Kooper. I had expected this to be real good, and instead it was just real annoying--it was Thelma Houston, Mavis Staples, Phoebe Snow, and some WHAT IS SHE DOING THERE white woman with this aristocratic bearing and holier-than-thou attitude. I called her "The P.T.A. Lady." Before each REAL singer sang her heart out, the P.T.A. lady would introduce her and explain the entire history of the song we were about to hear. How horribly patronizing and RACIST, yes racist, the assumption that we White Weenies can only appreciate this music if some f***ing PTA lady EXPLAINS IT TO US FIRST.

The WOMAD ensemble, consisting of several African bands, was on the south stage all morning and they didn't show us any of it. Next on the north stage was Arrested Development, the only rapsters that I like. And I like them plenty. They were brilliant. And the producer, of course, cut away from them just as they were starting their biggest song, Tennessee.

Green Day, the punk band flavor of the month, was playing at the south stage. There was a mud-flinging melee than ended up covering the band and the stage. Of course, the PPP decided that it was important to leave Arrested Development and cut away to this carnage--AFTER IT WAS OVER. So we got to see a greenish-brown stage and backdrop and some people running around, and Chris Jagger "wow-manning" about what had just happened, for about five minutes. They went back to the other stage just as Arrested Development was finishing their encore.

Next, the Allman Brothers. Well, either you like 'em or you don't. I thought they were just fine 'cept they played THAT SONG--the one I hate which is, of course, about six months long--"Jessica." Never has so little been done with two chords for so long. Also: they kept shooting Dickey Betts and Warren Haynes standing next to each other pickin' them dang git-tars, and this thought occurred to me: how many gas stations would you have to walk into before you saw two guys that looked EXACTLY LIKE THAT? Two, maybe three. Or, in Patterson NY, maybe you'd hit it on the first shot.

Paul Rodgers we only saw two songs "of". He was much better than I expected.

Next, Traffic--whom I had expected to hate. Surprisingly, they were excellent. None of the execrable Expensive Keyboards that Winwood and so many like him have come to use as crutches. There was nothing more technocratic than a Hammond Organ on that stage. Capaldi was brilliant.

Their introduction was the lowlight of the weekend--our friend "Debra" was yattering at top speed about the History of Traffic, and then she finally announced them as they walked out: "Okay, Stevie Winwood, Jim Capaldi, and CHRIS WOOD....." Hello? Didn't Chris Wood die in 1981? On MY planet he did. It's a shame this announcement didn't go out over the house P.A. so Steve and Jim could hear it.

I made the same mistake I always make when I see Winwood. I make the same mistake with Stevie Wonder, too. I go, "Wow, he looks so young!" Forgetting, of course, that these guys were in their mid-teens when they first hit and they are in fact only two or three years older than I am. None of your Charlie Watts here, nossir.

Spin Doctors. Yeuuccchh. I don't know what the big deal is about these guys at all. And the singer really looks like he shouldn't be walking around loose. Every time one of their videos comes on MTV, I holler for Wendy: "Wendy, it's that retarded guy on the TV again."

We missed the Neville Brothers while Spin Doctors were on, but they showed most of their set later. Not bad. Very light on the Aaron and heavy on the Iko Iko.

Porno For Pyros next. Good but certainly not the demigods they've been made out to be. And then a huge wait for Dylan, during which they showed most of Santana's set. Carlos never fails to be brilliant live, even if he hasn't made a really good LP in ages.

......And at that point we had to leave to get to Giants Stadium to see the Stones. Wendy had never seen 'em, and it was the third time for me. '72, '90, and now. And ya know what? This show was actually BETTER than the '72. Real good.

We picked up Wayne and got to the stadium just as Counting Crows were finishing their set and HA we didn't have to see or hear them. In all of the hundreds of concerts I've gone to, this was the first time I EVER deliberately missed an opening act. I hate them more than I can say. How much? Well, on the Streisandometer (which measures how horrible an entertainer is) they come in higher than Michael Jackson but well below Madonna. I would like to take the singer of this band and pull his lower lip over the top of his head. Have you heard them? Maybe you have and didn't realize who it was. The song goes, "Rounnnnd heeeeeeeeere, rounnnnnd heeeeeeeeere,"..........aiiigghh!!!!

By the time we got home the Woodstock business was over already, but I had all the rest of it on tape. We watched it Monday night. Dylan: absolutely great. I had expected him to be the requisite Pale Shadow Of His Former Self, but he seems to be experiencing some sort of personal renaissance. First of all, when he came out, he had the original 1965 Highway 61 Haircut on his head--first time in 30 years for that one. The band was great, (no keyboards by the way--so I guess Kooper had been dragged away and sedated before he could mount the organ) and he played only the crowd-pleaser songs. In eminently RECOGNIZABLE renditions. His voice was even a little better than it's been lately. Just great. Of course, after he finished playing (to an audience of nothing but mud-caked college kids; all the old people had long since left) he got a huge ovation. Which prompted our sage Debra to remark, "Well, we were a little worried about how Bob would go down here tonight, but Generation X can be real proud of themselves this evening for showing such incredible patience." PATIENCE????

Which left only the Red Hot Chili Peppers (great) and Peter Gabriel (eccchh.)