The Behrend Beacon
“Inked, Pierced, and Ready to Rock!”
by Deanna Symoski
features editor
This summer I attended a little
music festival called Woodstock
‘99—maybe you've heard of it. Or
maybe you caught the highlights on
Playboy. Either way, I thought 1
would give you my version of things
in this Woodstock review.
Here are some facts: Woodstock
ran July 23rd through July 25th in
Rome, New York. The actual site—
Griffiss Park —was a retired air force
base that stretched for miles. There
were two stages; the East Stage,
termed the main stage simply because
of its size, showcased the more high
profile acts, and the West Stage w as
where crowds went to relax and soak
in entertainment in the mid-day sun.
Friday was the first day o! bands
(though most people, including my
friend and I, had been there since the
night before). The festivities would
have started with SUGAR RAY play
' A view of the Main Stage as one of over seventy
A Woodstock Rebuttal:
Why Kurt Loder Sucks
by Deanna Symoski
features editor
Believe it or not, there are four-let
ter words out there more powerful
than those spewed forth Irom Kid
Roek's potty mouth*,"more eompelling
than Fred Durst's
battle cry. They are words thatTvuyld
not warrant a parental advisory sticker
on any CD, but they have changed the
way one particular event this summer
will be remembered in the annals ol
time. What are they .' Fire. loot, riot
and mosh.
By themselves, they are not espe
cially disturbing, but in the hands ol
prehistoric reporters and a media as
hell-bent on sensationalizing incident
as those accused of creating it, these
words become toxic.
Enter Woodstock ’99. By now we
all know what happened that infa
mous last night. What you may not
know, however, is that coverage ol the
three-day festival turned out to be as
reckless as that last night in the pit.
I was there. 1 spent the four dollars
on overpriced water, waited in line
for a porta potty that smelled of some
thing the likes of which I hope I
never discover. I searched lor shade,
walked on trash and took pictures of
everything else doing the same thing.
I was NOT one of these prima donna
reporters cozied up in an air-condi
tioned hotel, hanging out with rock
stars and roadies. That being said, I’m
going to let you in on the best
kept secret of the summer, something
I guarantee contradicts everything
you’ve read about the event so far:
Woodstock was FUN!
Bet you didn’t see that one com
ing, but how could you? The media,
namely MTV fronted by the “so off
target I’m wondering where he really
was for three days” Kurt Loder,
doesn’t want you to know about a suc
cessful weekend of interesting people
and superior entertainment. “Fun”
isn’t what keeps your worried parents
Woodstock in Review
ing at noon, but the show was can
celled hours before it was to start due
to Mark McGrath’s case of the
sniffles. We ducked into the airplane
hangar-turned-movie theater to check
out the 72-hour marathon. They were
showing PUMP UP THE VOLUME.
The fun started at 4 p.m. when we
and about 200,000 other people jour
neyed the mile and a half rumored to
separate the two stages to catch LIVE.
With an intensely emotional perfor
mance, they dedicated "Lightening
Crashes" to the memory of JFK, JR.,
and set the stage for eight and a half
hours of continuous entertainment.
Next was SHERYL CROW who,
when commanded by a belligerent
crowd member to show us various
parts of her anatomy, replied it would
cost a lot more than $l5O to see that.
THE OFFSPRING followed with a
special "tribute" to the Backstreet
Boys, and became the "First Band of
Bottle-Throwing" as we were held
under a frenzied canopy of plastic for
the first, but certainly not last, time in
glued to TRL after your little sister,
who between Backstreet Boys videos,
tells them she heard the words fire,
loot, riot and mosh.
Now 1 understand that there was
more than one negative report about
Woodstock after it so tragically ended
the night of Sunday, July 25th, but it
seems Mr. Loder has taken on the re
sponsibility of single-handedly trash
ing the festival (no pun intended).
I let it slide when he told his whiney
“escape-through-a-cornfield" story
NUMEROUS times to a saddened
and terrified Carson Daly; I ignored
his off-hand comments about Griffiss
Park being ominously located be
tween a mental institution and a
prison; I even overlooked when he
(wrongly) reported that there was a
feeling of menace in the air from the
very beginning.
I’ve tried to be reasonable, Mr.
Loder, but Your ROLLING STONE
article - "Tales from Satan’s Play
ground ”- has pushed me over the
limit.. Not only is this report espe
cially scathing, it is frighteningly in
correct, and so I think worthy of a re
sponse.
Yes, there was heat and trash and
all sorts of wild NC-17 activities, but
if you had, for even a few moments,
stopped your camera crew from look
ing for the most extreme behavior
they could possibly find—if you,
yourself, had for just a couple of min
utes climbed down from the MTV
perch hung like Jabba’s Sand Barge
near the front of the main stage where
undoubtedly the wildest of behavior
was taking place —you might have
noticed what the rest of us did; kind
people, cool merchandise (admittedly
overpriced, but it’s still fun to look),
and rain tents.
You were an outsider looking into
an environment that after the first
night, the rest of us had come to em
brace. We were a community held
together by bad water and stinky toi
lets, united not so much by the prod
uct that you made us, but by our re
lentless search for shade. You CAN’T
Features
three days
KORN picked up where DMX left
off, and if anybody hadn’t yet made
the pilgrimage to the main stage, they
were making it for KORN. And it was
definitely worth it. Finally BUSH,
fronted by lead singer Gavin Rosdale,
turned in a passionate set and played
an hour longer than anyone expected,
wrapping Friday night well after mid
night.
Saturday, July 24th, was the most
anticipated day of the weekend, if not
the year. MC's and guest announcers
such as Rosie Perez, Stephen Baldwin
and Verne Troyerof “Mini-Me” fame
repeatedly told us that “today is go
ing to make musical history.” And it
did.
After a Canadian assault by THE
TRAGICALLY HIP, KID ROCK
emerged in a white fur coat and ex
ploded into “Bawitaba.” In what I
think was the most kick-ass perfor
mance of the whole festival, Rock
showcased his talent in everything
from turntable precision to strumming
lays in
write about that weekend because you
weren’t there —not really.
And don’t blame the music for what
happened the last night. Don’t cru
cify Bizkit’s Durst for inciting a mob
when your colleague, in an article four
pages before your own, hails Durst for
for being so concerned with the safety
of those in the pit. Don’t futilely ar
gue that Korn ignited the chaos with
an energetic set Friday night and don’t
assume you’re young enough to en
joy any of this.
In case you forgot, Mr. Loder, you
still work for MTV —Music Televi
sion?'? Ring any bells? Without
music, you do not exist. These guys
own you so crawl down from the ped
estal on which you have so conve
niently been sitting since the Monday
morning after the festival, and take
responsibility for the phenomenon
you have helped create (and be
proud —it was a damn cool one!) You
are business partners with Kiedis and
Davis and de la Roche, so if you
blame them, blame yourself, too.
Woodstock ’99 was not the caul
dron of anarchy you and other report
ers would like everyone to believe it
was, and if it had not ended so badly
you would be celebrating everything
you have so hypocritically de
nounced. The promoters, not the fire
department, would be your new heros.
You are part of an exaggerated me
dia, Mr. Loder, your job is to make a
big deal out of everything. You were
looking for the worst parts (the best
parts to make a story with unfortu
nately) and you found them.
But that was not the whole of
Woodstock ’99. There was life be
yond the main stage. Did you camp
out, make friends, get dirty? I did,
and I had a much better time than you.
No this wasn’t your mother’s
Woodstock, but it wasn’t yours, either.
It was our Woodstock —Woodstock
’99 —and we thank you to keep your
four-letter words out of it.
September 3,1999
a blue grass medley featuring "For
tunate Son” and “Sweet Home Ala-
bama.”
The need to relax after expending
so much energy at Rock's show forced
us to wander over to the West Stage
to catch EVERCLEAR. Their show
was lively, but we could do little more
than sit and listen in the 90-degree
sun, as we knew we had to trek back
to catch DAVE MATTEWS.
Dave Matthews —what can 1 say''
The fact that COLLECTIVE SOUL
postponed their set at the west stage
(they didn’t want to play against the
Band) is evidence of the power that
is The Dave Matthews Band. All—
and I mean ALL —of the reported
225,000 people at the Griffiss site
piled into the East Stage lot to see the
awesome ensemble play lor one ot the
largest crowds ever assembled lor a
musical venue.
Even though I survived mainly on
fruit and cereal (and water) lor three
days, it was time to take a dinner
break, so we headed back to the tent
*s' ■ „ •
I*'' *•
w; V V*
l| r
«& V :
100
in all of Pennsylvania
from
until dusk when LIMP BIZKIT
brought down the house...and the ply
wood fencing...and the relay lowers...
They were the first of the inlamous
trio of bands Saturday night that have
since stirred up so much controversy.
RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE
and METALLICA followed, and
though we caught enough to say we
were there, admittedly we went shop
ping in the "villages' and listened
from ;t safe distance. Five loot lour
hundred and twenty pounds, isn't go-
ing It' get vou very lar in the pit.
All-night raves were hosted each
night in yet another airplane hangar,
and since Saturday night's was DJ'd
by FATBOY SUM. we thought it'd
be worth checking out. We ended up
dancing until we could no longer
stand, and finally, sometime before
sunrise, made it back to the tent we
hadn't see since twelve hours before.
Early Sunday, we packed up what
we could carry and what wasn't so
dirty we would never wear again (my
sneakers, unfortunately were sucri-
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ImIZ3 O v i N a
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GTE Wireless
Millcreek Mall
864-1139
$35 per month
minutes of air time
No long distance
Erie County
Only valid with
Student I.D.
ficed at the site), and made the same
two-mile trek hack to the ear we
hadn't seen in three days. Due to
work obligations Monday, we were
forced to leave Sunday afternoon, but
we were sure to catch THE BRIAN
SETZER ORCHESTRA before we
left. We danced some more, this time
in the sweltering heat, and finally tore
ourselves away trom what had be
come home.
Though there was an endless string
of entertainment and activity, we
could only move as last as our legs
would take us and experience as much
as our minds could absorb. For ev
ery image and sound we caught, a
million more whizzed past us with
out so much as a glance and I m sorry
that 1 can't give you ALL ol
Woodstock '99. but no one could pos
sibly do that. I can only encourage
you to head out to the next one, it there
is one, and experience the Woodstock
Weekend for yourself.
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