Ozzfest 2001

In what has now become a veritable American summer ritual, the 2001 Ozzfest behemoth plopped down upon the vast confines of the Sacramento Valley Aphitheatre this past Wednesday, and promised to be, at worst, an interesting glimpse into the hearts and minds of modern Hessians.

Interestingly enough, although nu-metal is enjoying immense popularity, metal-lovers of today are facing much the same predicament that eventually doomed the last great metal revival of the late 80's/early 90's: popularity. By this, I mean the good old "one band is good, 100 bands are better," marketing strategy that prevails among music labels. Hair metal met it's demise when one could no longer differentiate the new bands from the old, the bad bands from the good; they all looked and sounded the same. Eventually even the pillars of hair metal were toppled by their legions of half-asses imitators. Ozzfest, although insanely successful, does little to counter this phenomenon; in fact, it is in many ways to blame. Ozzfest has become a gold mine of metal; basically any band, second stage or first, who appears on Ozzfest, is guaranteed to get a popularity boost, which of course computes into more money. And anyone who doubts that Ozzfest, or metal in general, is about the money better take a good look: $75.00 for a ticket (not even in the front), $32 for a T-shirt? Even more telling is the line-up: do you think Ozzy Osbourne really likes Crazy Town, or do you think they might be on the main stage because they had a huge crossover radio and MTV hit with "Butterfly?" Remember, 12-year-old girls spend a lot more money than out of work mulleteers who would rather see Pantera or someone of that same ilk. Needless to say, I was skeptical.

But the second stage did much to remedy some of my negativity. Although stuck in the back corner, and suffering the general apathy of most of the crowd, the second stagers gave their all to those who would listen. Union Underground in particular struck me as intriguing; their music, though fundamentally the same as the rest, offered a bit of nuance not found in many of the other bands, main stage included. Second stage headliners Mudvayne also were impressive. Although I could do without the makeup, Mudvayne does hark back to an older school of speed metal — double-bass, blast beats, tight riffing. I'd bet a nickel that Mudvayne will be back next year, next time on the main stage.

In regards to the latter, my assistant and I made our way to our seats, to prepare ourselves for a marathon session of metal. We found our seats just in time to catch the southern-metal of Black Label Society, led by Zakk Wylde, who was once Ozzy's right hand axe man, and Mike Inez of Alice In Chains. BLS was somewhat reminiscent of C.O.C. and Down, but Wylde's vocals were little more than grumbles and yells. One thing worth mentioning: BLS was the only main stage act not playing to taped samples, which I found sort of funny. Since when did metal need anything more than real people playing real instruments?

Next up was the afore-mentioned Crazy Town. They played a bunch of songs, then finally they played their hit. People clapped. "Yea, a song we heard on the radio!!" they thought in unison. Little girls ran to take pictures. But I will give props to the lead vocalist of Crazy Town, who came down during Marilyn Manson and signed autographs for the aforementioned girls, as well some of the guys in front who were in wheel chairs.

After Crazy Town came Disturbed, who are, in my opinion, the epitome of the Wal-Mart-ization of heavy music. Their recent promotion to the main stage from the second stage was facilitated by their meteoric rise in popularity. Not surprisingly, many in the crowd knew the words to the song. There was nearly a mosh pit, but not quite. Vocalist David Drainman did his little snake dance all over the stage and they were done, thankfully.

Linkin Park were next on stage, and out of all the bands, they were by far my favorite. Granted, they are little more than a heavy metal N'Sync — cute faces, commercials on T.V., sampler pumping overtime under some curtain behind the stage — but at least they don't try to hide it. They are the face of current pop music, no more or less than any of the other Ozzfest bands. At least Linkin Park have the guts to admit it.

Papa Roach came next, and they were seemingly excited about playing more or less on their home turf. Vocalist Coby Dick was his usual self, banging the microphone on his head and performing near-flawless hardcore dancing. I was mildly impressed by their performance, but I was very impressed by the performance of the two pre-adolescent girls on the side stage who were writhing to the sounds of P-Roach in a very sexual manner. This was in stark contrast to the old crack-whore writhing sexually in the row next to me. The amount of old people at Ozzfest was astonishing. Maybe they all came for Black Sabbath. But I think most of the old mullet-men were there to scope young ass and most of the old crack whores came to show their tits to whoever was looking.

After a long break came the clown show which is Slipknot. They ran around and yelled for well over an hour. The DJ got frustrated with his deck and threw it into the audience much to chagrin of the legions of security. People actually moshed, which was a first. Slipknot faked an encore then exited stage left.

Next up was the infamous Marilyn Manson. Using more props than a $400 stripper, he did his best to entertain, and in my opinion, succeeded. His band was tight, and he was on point both vocally and theatrically. Moreover, much the same as Linkin Park, Marilyn Manson does not fool himself as to the true nature of his music. He is entertainment, admittedly a concoction.

Having had my fill of yelling and screaming and in lieu of both the increasingly intoxicated Hessian Army in attendance and the knowledge that they would be sharing the same one-lane exit road with me, I decide to make my exit early. This also meant that I would miss Black Sabbath, but so what? Besides being older than my parents (well at least close), Black Sabbath are little more than a Brady Bunch TV special; hey lets get the gang back together and see if people are silly enough to pay for it!! Besides 12 hours of metal had rendered me infertile, deaf and altogether displeased. Sorry Ozzy, I'm sure I'll see you next year.

– Daniel Taylor
– Photos by Alyssa Starkey

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