Lollapa-loser

Missing in action at Great Woods

by Matt Ashare

No Prodigy. No Devo. No Orb. No Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. No Dr. Octagon. And no DJ Shadow.

Yes, the Lollapalooza that rolled into Great Woods with a mainstage line-up of Julian and Damian Marley, James, Korn, Tricky, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Tool, and Orbital this past Tuesday was, for the first time in the traveling festival tour's seven-year history, defined more by who wasn't there than by who was. Two of the missing bands -- rave wizards Prodigy and veteran new-wavers Devo -- will be joining the mainstage later this month. The Orb dropped out of the running a month ago, perhaps just to alleviate any confusion that might ensue from having Orbital, Orbit, and the Orb on the same tour. The Blues Explosion were signed up for the mainstage and then, it's reported, bought out of their contract by the Lollapalooza organization, for reasons that remain unclear. And underground rapper Dr. Octagon and pomo hip-hopper DJ Shadow were in the program but not on the stage.

Those absences have come in what might be a make-or-break year for Lollapalooza -- a summer filled with competing festival tours, from an edgier H.O.R.D.E. (starring Neil Young and Beck) and a Marilyn Manson/Black Sabbath-driven Ozzfest to the female-fueled Lilith Fair (Sarah McLachlan's brainchild) and the techno-heavy Big Top tour. It's a combination that already has done more to erode Lollapalooza's reputation as the big daddy of alternative-rock packages than last year's Metallica-led clash of the titans.

The proof, as they say, was in the numbers. Even with the box office open until 7:45 p.m. on the day of the show, attendance for the nine-hour event (2 to 11 p.m.) was just 16,700 -- several thousand under capacity, the first time ever that Lollapalooza hasn't sold out Great Woods. In contrast, this summer's H.O.R.D.E. has already added a second Great Woods date.

But less than perfect attendance was only the symptom of a greater ill. In past years the package tour that Perry Farrell helped launch generated interest and excitement by putting together bills that caught bands like Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Beck, Hole, Tool, and even Smashing Pumpkins on their way up. It paid tribute to alterna-rock's secret history by putting unlikely artists like the Jesus and Mary Chain and Nick Cave on the mainstage, made room for a trailblazing veteran like George Clinton, and built a kind of tenuous consensus audience by reaching farther than would really be necessary if selling tickets were the only goal. There was always an intangible sense of risk, of new alliances being forged (between artists for sure, audiences perhaps), even if by '92 or '93 a loose formula had become apparent (one pasty Brit band, one hip-hop artist, a female-identified group, and three or four young, white, male guitar-driven outfits).

This year's bill felt too safe, too predictable, too certain not to have any real surprises in store. The big draws -- LA's art-damaged, prog-metal monsters Tool, gangsta rapper Snoop Doggy Dogg, and grunge-funksters Korn -- have already peaked and/or gotten wide-ranging exposure. Tool are Lollapalooza veterans. They delivered a pumped-up if somewhat numbing barrage of guitar chords that rippled and twitched like flexing muscles, two kick drums that throbbed with the intensity of a charging mastodon's heart, and tough, sinewy bass lines. But at least they came out in style, with shirtless bassist Justin Chancellor painted Incredible Hulk green, guitarist Adam Jones in Blue Man Group blue, and tortured vocalist Maynard James Keenan wearing a stuffed bra, white hotpants, knee socks, black heels, and a face painted white in the shape of a Greek tragedy mask. (Keenan's girlie get-up made Tool the show's only female-fronted band.)

Korn, who arrived riding bicycles and drew the biggest response from the crowd all day, were relentlessly awful. Their cheap imitation of early Beastie Boys brat rap and Faith No More bubble-grunge funk metal was redeemed only by the band's unabashed willingness to be nothing more than a witless crowd pleaser.

Snoop tried some crowd pleasing himself, but his laid-back rapping style isn't nearly as compelling live as it is on CD. Still, he fared better than fellow rapper Tricky, who proved in a club tour earlier this year that even with a back-up band he has a talent for not connecting with an audience. Not to mention poor James, who in view of their 3 p.m. slot leaned a little too heavily on gentle atmospherics and were more or less ignored.

The second stage was also short on thrills. There was fleeting fun to be had in watching teenage grungester Ben Kweller thrash around on his guitar with Radish, or in soaking up the irony dished out by the geeky-pop trio the Eels, who re-christened moshing as "man dancing." But Summercamp's routine pop punk was, well, routine. And the old-school AOR stylings of Jeremy Toback just seemed out of place in front of a mosh pit. Gone, apparently, are the years when you could discover a band like the Geraldine Fibbers, Boredoms, or Royal Trux on the second stage.

And just in case you couldn't put your finger on what was really missing from this Lollapalooza, Tool's Keenan hinted at its absence by imploring the crowd to stick around for the closing set by the English duo Orbital. His recommendation, which went mostly unheeded, seemed genuine, and it was on the money -- Orbital's futuristic, light-show-enhanced set of technocolor dance grooves was fantastic. But in past years a rock dude like Keenan endorsing an outfit like Orbital would have been the rule. This time, sadly, it was the exception.