|
|
|
|
SUSAN TEDESCHI.
|
ow different these year-end stories would be if the rain had poured at Woodstock '99. A storm missed the Woodstock concert site by just a few miles during the closing set by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, thus enabling some rowdies to set fires that would have been impossible to start had rain dampened the ground.
Instead, we have endless stories about how Woodstock's peace-and-love era went up in flames, replaced by anger over expensive bottles of water and food (not everything was high-priced, though cynics would have you believe that). Promoters caught blame, and so did the fans and bands smeared by association. That was particularly true for easily targeted acts like Rage Against the Machine, prompting Rage guitarist Tom Morello to decry the ''horrific youth-bashing'' that took place after Woodstock. Rarely have so many been blamed for the actions of so few.
Rock has been in retreat from the media ever since, but you know what? Rock had an incredible comeback year - regaining a sense of rebellion that many feared was lost, and stealing thunder from the rappers who thought they held the cutting edge. Sales figures this year showed a dramatic increase for rock as albums by Rage Against the Machine, Korn, Limp Bizkit, and others shot to No. 1 in their first week.
Rock's underground became mainstream - and shook up the establishment in the process.
What better example than the ''guerrilla tour'' by Limp Bizkit, which previewed its new album with a week of unlicensed, police-baiting shows. This included a late-afternoon sneak concert on a rooftop in Kenmore Square, where several thousand fans, after hearing an announcement on WAAF (107.3 FM) just minutes before, caught Bizkit rocking hard for 20 minutes before Boston police shut them down. The band had hired a private security team to monitor the crowd (and the moshers), so the scene wasn't as reckless as the police might have thought. Score a definite victory for the people - and a connection to earlier days, when the Beatles played on a roof in London and U2 did the same in Los Angeles.
Not that all of this year's breakthrough bands were saints. Far from it. Korn wallowed in angst, Bizkit had a misogynist streak, and Kid Rock never met a swear word he didn't like. But in their updating of rock, often with mind-searing guitars and a streetwise rap element, they made some of the most exciting music of the year. You might not have been able to dance to it all the time, but its in-your-face roar and unsettling lyrics reminded listeners of what rock was always about.
Hard-rocking bands multiplied in this pedal-to-the-metal millennial year - Godsmack, Buckcherry, Creed, Sevendust, Staind, Oleander, System of a Down, Static-X, they just kept coming. And many of these grew by word of mouth, just as the neohippie trend developed such stars as the Dave Matthews Band (the only act to play two nights at Foxboro Stadium this year) and New England's Phish.
The most meaningful band of the year, by far, was Rage Against the Machine, which restored a political purpose to the music. They rapped and raged about economic oppression, racial prejudice, and Third World abuse - a stunning troika that was matched only by the ferocity of the music.
The most meaningful solo artist of the year was Bruce Springsteen, who proved that loyalty still exists in the crazy market-driven mess known as today's music. Whether fans will follow Rage, Korn, and Bizkit in 10 years remains to be seen. But Springsteen's fans rallied to see him in unprecedented numbers. Five sold-out shows at the FleetCenter? No problem. And his fifth show at the Fleet was the best show I heard all year. He went for broke and got there, while his E Street Band colleagues were right with him. Brotherhood revived - and sisterhood, too, considering how well Springsteen's wife, Patti Scialfa, performed that night.
OK, there was a lot not to like in 1999, too. Corporate mergers induced a malaise, as many bands were dropped and many labels folded into others - such as Salem's feisty Rykodisc, which had to relocate to New York under the wing of the Palm Pictures label run by Chris Blackwell.
And what can you say about the spread of watered-down, hunk-du-jour teeny-bop bands? The two best-selling recording acts were Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys, whose albums both topped 9 million sales. The backlash was best expressed by punk rockers the Offspring, whose spirited Woodstock show was capped by the singer clubbing life-size balloon replicas of the Backstreet Boys as the crowd howled.
It was a year of digital downloading and on-line retail gains, a year of revivals (the J. Geils Band stood out), a year of sadness (the tragic death of Morphine's Mark Sandman in Italy), of great tour packages (Paul Simon with Bob Dylan and Emmylou Harris with Linda Ronstadt), of Latin stars new and old (Ricky Martin and Carlos Santana), of posthumous rap albums (another by the Notorious B.I.G.), of gospel going mainstream (a great FleetCenter show by the Rev. Kirk Franklin), of classic entertainers returning (Bette Midler was never funnier), of emerging Boston acts (Godsmack, Guster, Susan Tedeschi, the Push Stars, Mr. Lif), and of continued high ticket prices ($300 to see the Stones at the FleetCenter).
But despite merger mania and ample greed from the corporate offices down to the dressing rooms, there was still enough street cred to suggest hope for the future.
R.I.P.: Gwen Guthrie, Charles Brown, Dusty Springfield, Lowell Fulson, Skip Spence, Roger Troutman, Bruce Fairbairn, Augustus Pablo, Lord Sutch, Dennis Brown, Mark Sandman, Guy Mitchell, Anita Carter, Roy Wiggins, Bobby Sheehan, Brewer Phillips, Beau Jocque, Katie Webster, Hoyt Axton, Donald Mills, Lester Bowie, Doug Sahm, Rick Danko, Hank Snow.
