Blistered in the Sun

Unwrapping the Summer Package Tour

by Jesse Delaney

Summer has always been the exclusive property of kids, teachers and the unemployed. Who else can attend all-day music festivals held on weekdays? (I'm saving my last sick day for Ozzfest.)

The unencumbered masses at the Tweeter the first week of August were divisible into three categories: Chronically self-absorbed (Curiosa), angry as hell (Projekt Revolution) or just plain sweaty (woman wearing a vinyl French maid ensemble in 90-degree heat).

Music and money brought all three groups together ($20 Cure mousepads!), and the Curiosa souvenir shop sold a lot of $15 blankets to the "main-stage-only" fans reading the Sunday Times on the lawn. Down on the Ben Franklin concourse, next door to the Bizarro World misting umbrellas (running mascara is so goth) and activism booths (PETA, Amnesty International, America Online), Melissa Auf der Maur was making a stunning comeback. Since her Feztival exposition, it's obvious the Montreal native has grown into the role of summer tour second-stager. She still only has one album to her name, but she's discovered the secret of playing loud: Cranking the amps to 11 transforms pop into power pop! Tourmates Mogwai may have passed her this tip; in concert their lush album compositions turn into ear-melting sonic booms.

After very short sets by Mogwai and The Rapture (who delighted with cowbell), the Curiosa atmosphere got, well, atmospheric. Playing with family in the audience, Interpol previewed songs ("Evil," "Slow Hands") off their forthcoming Antics to enthusiastic applause.

Then the Tweeter Center turned on the bright lights.

Muse boasted the most elaborate light display ever for a second-stage act, which isn't difficult considering the side stages at these summer festivals are usually packed up before the sun goes down. The Cure's light show was even more impressive, but certainly not "the best lights I've ever seen," as one bedazzled fan exclaimed. They were indeed luminescent, but paled in comparison to pyrotechnics.

When Robert Smith took the stage, the crowd went wild for their Gothic god. The Cure played a varied set of album tracks for devoted fans and singles for people who weren't lucky, unlucky or old enough to have loved or lost when "Boys Don't Cry" and "Pictures of You" were first released.

Signs posted at the venue stated in a serious font that The Cure would take the stage at 9:15 and curfew was at 10:30 sharp. All day, crew members could be seen in the wings chomping at the bit waiting to hurry the opening bands off stage. The Cure broke curfew by an hour and it was excellent.

Under Tuesday's gray skies, the bridge-and-ferry crowd slopped through the goose shit to Projekt Revolution. After an afternoon deluge that nearly washed the second stage into the Delaware, it began raining mud from the lawn pit to the seating area in a scene reminiscent of Woodstock '94 (Linkin Park's cover of Nine Inch Nails' "Wish" strengthened the comparison).

Things quieted down when Snoop Dogg emerged from an oversized doghouse bedecked in a Phillies hat and personalized jersey. (Can the floundering Phils get him to play the outfield?) With a backing band, complete with horn section, bleating out the riff to "Iron Man," Snoop opened his set with "Murder Was the Case," and then, with a few additions, basically repeated his performance from Lollapalooza '97 minus the onstage bong hits. Fellow old '97-ers Korn followed with a cover-heavy set. Behind his billion-dollar microphone stand designed by H.R. Giger, Jonathan Davis led the crowd through Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" as the lyrics were projected on the big screen. "Blind" stirred up the most activity in the pit, and the foot-stomping during the bagpipe segment of "Shoots and Ladders" sounded like thunder.

Usurping the title of Projekt lead from Korn, Linkin Park's mesmerizing visuals and attention deficit disorder multimedia amalgamation embraced and realized the dreams of the MTV generation. Not since The Biz Never Sleeps has there been such a potent mix of rapping, singing, keyboards and turntable wizardry. The Parkers have a deep connection with their fans (audience member Billy was recruited to play guitar on "Faint"), and the sound of a thousand adolescent voices cracking in unison as they sing along can be eerie, but not as disturbing as the guy on the ferry with the tie-dyed monkey puppet or the unofficial bathroom attendant giving out paper towels for money. That's the traumatizing stuff of Korn songs.