Show Notes: MIAMI — At the fourth annual Lollapalooza festival, which rolled into Bicentennial Park on Monday, concert promoters got lucky.
Fans didn't.
That's because two of the fest's key attractions were abruptly canceled, with no reduction in the $30 admission price. Meanwhile, more than 24,000 concertgoers came out to the counterculture bash - about 13,000 more than promoters had expected.
issing from the lineup: The entire electronic sideshow of computerized exhibits dubbed "The Electric Carnival," as well as acclaimed punk band Green Day, fresh off a chaotic jam at Woodstock on Sunday.
"I regret to inform you that Green Day won't be playing today," said the band's singer, Billy Joe, explaining that bass player Mike Dirnt was injured during their mud-strewn Woodstock set.
"That was a disappointment," said Dave Conti, 17, of Coral Springs, who wore a red-and-white Dr. Suess hat. "I really wanted to see [them)."
As for the absence of the much-hyped electric carnival, spokeswoman Carol Moran said recent heavy rains here made it "impossible to set up."
Today, the entire Lollapalooza tour stop near Orlando may be canceled because of flooding.
Still, there was plenty on Monday to distract fans between six-packs and long waits at the Porta-Johns. More than a dozen bands played, among them L7, The Breeders, Smashing Pumpkins, Nick Cave and George Clinton.
As in past years, activists staffed info-booths on drugs, abortion and the rain forests. Poets held court in the "spoken word" revival tent, where festival organizer Perry Farrell of the rock bands Jane's Addiction and Porno For Pyros, slipped in for an unannounced set.
Colorful souvenir shacks offered "hemp seeds" (a snack, not a drug) and marijuana pipes sold as "tobacco equipment."There were also tie-dye shirts, crocheted caps, velvet pants, shawls and love beads at prices from $10 to $30.
Scorched fans drank from trough-like fountains and were spritzed by cool water in the "rain tents."The backwash turned the field to mud, much like Woodstocks I and II.
It was the original Woodstock in 1969 that inspired Farrell to create Lollapalooza in 1991, with the idea that alternative music and counterculture deserved a touring showcase.
Blue-haired Alicia Cannizzo, 19, of Coral Springs, said this fourth Lollapalooza was "a little more corporate," than the first she attended in 1991, pointing to a slew of Budweiser signs. "But it's still pretty cool."
Vendors had a captive audience at prices that ranged from $4 for bottled water to $5 for a burrito. With admission, parking, a couple of meals and souvenirs, organizers figure most people spent between $75 and $100 for the day. Last year, the tour grossed $17 million.
"It's too expensive," said Rob Lamb, 16, of Coral Springs. "It's not really what I thought it would be."
Review from James Montgomery :
Lollapalooza: Where Moments Are Made, So Long As It Doesn't Rain
As we gear up for the 2010 fest, Bigger Than the Sound looks back at the Lolla show that never was.
Earlier this week, a music-obsessed buddy of mine IM'ed me with a hypothetical question: "If you could attend any concert in history, what would it be?"
The default answer, of course, seemed to be Woodstock. After all, it was arguably the most monumental musical event of the 20th century (and there were plenty of drugs too). Amadeus' 1784 Trattnerhof concerts probably would've been pretty great to see. Kool Herc's late-'70s "back-to-school" parties in the rec room of 1520 Sedgwick Ave. in the Bronx, too (since, you know, that's where he perfected "the break" and inadvertently created hip-hop). The Wattstax concert at the L.A. Coliseum in 1972. The Talking Heads/ Ramones double-bill at CBGBs in 1975. U2 at Red Rocks in 1983. Nirvana at Reading in 1992. The list goes on and on.
Anyway, I said Woodstock. But then I thought about it for a while, and I changed my mind. I mean, sure, it would've been great to be there, to frolic in the mud and watch Hendrix blast "The Star-Spangled Banner" on a Monday morning. But, to be honest, Woodstock is sort of the "rock critic" answer. If I really could've attended any concert in history, it probably would've been the August 16, 1994, Lollapalooza date at the Volusia County Fairgrounds in Deland, Florida. Mostly because it never happened.
See, back in the summer of '94, I was a 15-year-old kid just starting to fall in love with music. The Breeders' Last Splash album had a lot to do with that, and they were on the Lolla bill that year, along with heavyweights like the Smashing Pumpkins and the Beastie Boys, curiosities (at least for me) like George Clinton & the P-Funk All-Stars and A Tribe Called Quest, the legendary Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and a little band called Green Day, who were just starting to make waves. None of those bands ever came to Orlando, or, if they did, I wasn't old enough to see them. Needless to say, Lollapalooza was shaping up to be the music event of the Central Florida summer. I had gone to Lolla the previous summer, had gotten kicked in the head during Rage Against the Machine's set, and had become a man. I couldn't wait to see what would happen this year. And then, a few days before the show, I had watched — on MTV — as Billie Joe Armstrong and company engaged in an epic mud fight with the crowd at Woodstock '94, which only added more mystique to the Lollapalooza bill. This was shaping up to be the greatest day of my life.
But on August 16 (and, as I recall, the day before, too), it rained. A lot. Still, I figured that the show would go on — and, given the sloppy conditions, a mud fight with Green Day seemed all but certain — but then, as my friends and I were getting ready to head out to the fairgrounds (one of our pals had his license and a car), they made the announcement on the radio: Lollapalooza had been canceled.
I remember all of us standing around our friends' car, packs of cigarettes in our pockets, not really knowing what to do or say. Surely, this was a joke. Didn't the tickets say "Rain or Shine"? But then, we called Ticketmaster and a pre-recorded message informed us that the show was, in fact, canceled due to "inclement weather," and that refunds were available at point of purchase. We were all so crushed that we never bothered getting our money back. I still have my Lolla '94 ticket stuffed away in a desk drawer. To this day, it remains the greatest show I have never seen.
Who knows what would've happened that day? What memories was I robbed of? How would my life have been different had I seen the Pumpkins at the height of their powers, or the Breeders when Jim MacPherson and Josephine Wiggs were still in the band? These all seem like fairly stupid questions, but I still think them, even today, as a 31-year-old who has seen every band on the bill many times since then. Lollapalooza 1994 haunts me. It probably always will. I wish more than anything that I had gotten to see the show.
But after thinking about things for a while, I'm filled with another emotion: hope. It may be too late for me — since, like I said, I am 31 and have seen pretty much everything there is to see, music-wise. But there are millions of kids out there who have Lollapalooza circled on their calendars (or iCalendars or whatever), kids who can't wait to see the bands they loved, or get kicked in the head, or get ushered into adulthood. It's pretty much what makes Lolla so great: It is where moments happen, where memories are made. And so, as I head off to cover the 2010 edition of the fest, I'm trying to remember all that, trying to not be the cynical old rock journo I am most days. I am trying to be 15 again, to channel the roller coaster of emotions I had in the days leading up to Lollapalooza 1994. Because there are always going to be kids out there who are praying it doesn't rain. Let's hope the Rock Gods are listening.