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by Seth Rogovoy
POWNAL, Vt., July 10, 1996 -- Just as the sun set over the surrounding mountains and the long day became night, Metallica's high-voltage, full-throttle riffs took a lazily-paced, ambling festival and kicked it into overdrive, climaxing the alternative- rock carnival called Lollapalooza '96, at the Green Mountain Racetrack on Tuesday.
While singer/guitarist James Hetfield and guitarist Kirk Hammett seemingly led the Grammy-winning band's charge through its anger- driven anthems, it was drummer Lars Ulrich, the group's not-so- secret weapon, who truly powered its brightly-lit, thunderingly clear arrangements. Hetfield and Hammett were merely filling in the spaces between Ulrich's double-time rhythms which, although they may have sounded like a call to battle to the furry creatures in the surrounding woods, were actually propelling Metallica's signature protests against oppression and the abuses of authority.
Metallica's energetic, tightly-focused set, replete with laser lights and exploding fireworks, was in sharp contrast to the rest of the day's performances, which by the nature of the sprawling beast that is a rock festival were looser, more rambling affairs.
Concertgoers were treated to a dozen and a half acts on three different stages, sometimes running all at once. As a result, the event had more in common with a smorgasbord than a well-balanced, artfully-presented meal. As any gourmet can tell you, buffets have built-in limitations in terms of culinary value. Concerts are no different. While the sampler approach undoubtedly gives concertgoers the most bang for their bucks, what the audience loses in the process is the focused intensity of the traditional club or concert experience.
Given all that, there were a lot of great sounds to be heard on the various stages, and with a few exceptions, the show ran like clockwork. With some careful planning, a fan could catch glimpses, if not entire sets, of just about every band that performed.
Psychotica kicked off the Main Stage part of the show with the New York band's '90s update of Ziggy Stardust-style glimmer rock. Lead singer Patrick Briggs was wrapped in silver head-to-toe, but try as he might he seemed woefully out of place in the noonday sun surrounded by the small town's verdant hills.
Rancid played an acrobatic brand of neo-classic punk, sort of a cartoon version of the Clash. The band's set of class warfare- directed tunes, as well as its leather outfits and colorful mohawks, inspired the moshers and body surfers, as did a horn section brought out for some ska music in a nod to the group's roots in Operation Ivy, a punk-ska outfit that harkened to England's two-tone movement of the early-'80s.
Some spaghetti-western style music heralded the entrance of the Ramones, the seminal punk-rock band that in some way is responsible for everything that happened on every stage on Tuesday. Playing an alleged farewell tour, the leather-clad group poured forth a torrent of its three-chord cartoonish fusion of surf music and early rock 'n' roll. But not even Joey Ramone's nasal sneer could convincingly transform the former horse-racing track into "Rockaway Beach."
While these bands were playing on the Main Stage during the afternoon, some of the day's best sounds were heard on the Second Stage, albeit in quick, 20- or 30-minute bursts. In particular, Cornershop, led by Tjinder Singh, introduced its unique fusion of psychedelic raga-rock, mixing conventional percussion, samples, found sounds and acoustic guitar with the drone created by Indian sitars and tambouras, atop which Singh chanted his cryptic lyrics like some 21st-century, urban muezzin.
The members of Ruby, including lead singer Lesley Rankine, sported some of the day's most colorful hair - Rankine's was a deep, neon blue, in sharp contrast to her pasty-white face. She sang some deceptively sultry, neo-soul melodies with an industrial underpinning, but her band didn't seem quite up to the task.
While Ben Folds banged away at his keyboard like some degenerate offspring of Jerry Lee Lewis and Billy Joel, circus acrobats bent themselves into impossible shapes on a bed of nails atop his grand piano. His group, the Ben Folds Five, played a set of gleeful, shameless pop music, while a freak hailstorm pelted the crowd with icy chunks. Girls Against Boys followed with some riff- and rhythm-driven guitar rock.
Throughout the day, performers at the Second and Third stages were seen mingling with the crowd and checking out their peers, adding a casual tone to the proceedings.
Back on the Main Stage, Soundgarden appeared an hour earlier than scheduled due to special guest Wu-Tang Clan's absence, reportedly due to a foul-up of the group's insurance papers. In any case, lead singer Chris Cornell led his group through a long set of its lumbering, Led Zeppelin-inspired hard rock. Cornell's angst- ridden vocals wailed over the group's crunching, fuzzy guitars, except for "Black Hole Sun," the gorgeously depressive ballad that Cornell handled intensely in solo fashion.
Screaming Trees and the Beth Hart Band also performed, but in spite of his best efforts, your intrepid reviewer missed their sets.
If Lollapalooza '96 fell short of musical expectations, it wasn't because of the bands that were on the lineup. Who could argue with Screaming Trees, Rancid, the Ramones, Soundgarden and Metallica, not to mention all the great Second Stage acts, all on one bill?
In the end, the problem wasn't with the bands that were there. The problem was with the bands that weren't. Which is precisely why there needs to be a Lollapalooza '97 at Green Mountain Racetrack.
[This review originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on July 11, 1996. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1996. All rights reserved.]
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