The problem with kids today…

This weekend, I saw the "Y" generation up close and personal, and I came away feeling used, abused and depressed.

In the mid-90s I took my older daughters (then in their mid-teens) to "Lollapalooza," the brainchild of "Jane's Addiction" leader, Perry Ferrell. At the time, it was touted as the "X Generation's" answer to "Woodstock." It was a one-day event, with 15 "name bands" from the alternative rock scene, and was a standard festival concert format. Each band was allotted a 45-minute set on the main stage. There were tons of people and not much blatant commercialism. Just a lot of music with a huge stage and equally huge sound system on the infield of a horse track.

This was also my first exposure to a new form of music fan, the professional "Mosh Pit" athlete. This new contingent appeared to be there for no other reason than to smack one another around, crowd surf and stage dive, with seemingly little interest in what was being played on stage. Entertaining, but distracting to the main reason we were attending; the music.

Cut ahead 10 years...and my current crop of teenage daughters and I attending the "Vans Warped Tour." This one-day "celebration of Modern Punk," was nothing short of a huge convention of the disenfranchised, trying to justify their unique pathos, with corporate sponsorship and iconoclastic greed.

This is the first "music event" where the stage areas, including the main stage and seven surrounding secondary stages were dwarfed by the area dedicated to the booths of sponsors, merchandise tents and massive "Anti-corporate" nonprofit corporation booths. Rage against the machine indeed.

From headliners "Yellow Card," "Bad Religion," "Story of the Year" and "New Found Glory," to a massive list of "never-to-be-heard-from-again-real-punk-bands-with-angry-sounding-names-and-even-angrier-sounding-singers, the line-up seemed bored to be there, and barely able to sustain enough honest energy to last their entire 30 minute sets. Thirty whole minutes…each…and in most cases it was about twenty-five minutes too long. If I hear one more, out of tune, "angry," 3-chord (almost always in E or G), machine-gun rhythm rant about how "shitty" life is, I swear I will kill someone.

What was most disturbing was the sea of "unique" but all the same kids in their black (it was 85 degrees for Christ sake) t-shirts, long shredded pants, painted hair, pierced faced, multi-tattooed bodies, in high socks and work boots…all milling around like lemmings, while the "artists" and mosh athletes flailed on stage. There was no real emotion. No real vibe. And, no real reason to be there, except to say that you were there…

Call me a fogy. Call me a fuddy-duddy longing for the days when a festival was about the music, making new friends and railing against the status quo. But, in the hundreds of concerts I have attended and played as a musician and concert promoter, I have never seen a place so bereft of honest emotion or artistic purpose.

As one honest "punk-star-wanna-be" said from the stage, "hey…fuck you guys…I already have your money…I'm just here for another 13 minutes, and then I can get out of this shit hole." It was a phrase that stuck with me the entire day. To use his vernacular, F**k the new "alternative" punk scene.

The grandest irony of all, was that a great number of the songs being screamed this day, were about the prevalence of corporate greed, the selling out of America, and government being out to take away all of your freedom. For most, the message was lost in a wave of apathy that ran deep and thick, like the matted hair of the performers being baked by the stage lights in the hot mid-afternoon sun. But for those few who raised their hands at the right moments in righteous indignation to scream "right on! Corporations Suck!" I wanted to yell back..."take a look at where you are!"

I am going to find a concert that will leave my daughters with a something worth remembering… it may be a futile search these days, but I can't let the "Warped" be it. The only thing Warped about this show was the misguided sense that anything there, or anyone who attended, mattered for more than ten seconds after the admission price exchanged hands. No wonder this generation is lost, aimless and without leadership. Their entire future is for sale…($38 plus tax, parking and $8 slices of pizza)