 KROQ launches a winner Rock of the 90's rules at Inland Invasion 5, thanks to strong sets from Weezer, Garbage and Oasis
So no specific theme for this year's Inland Invasion, then, eh?
That's not entirely without precedence, you realize; the inaugural Weenie Roast for the Inland Empire was a mish-mash of KROQ favorites as well. Yet recent editions have found the modern-rock tastemaker striving to give its second of three annual festivals (preceded by Weenie in the O.C., followed by Almost Acoustic Christmas in L.A.) a cohesive structure, some implied reason beyond sheer entertainment to lump so many disparate groups together on a revolving stage.
Inland Invasion 2, for instance, was a generation-spanning, pan-punk bacchanal commemorating a quarter-century of the now-multifarious genre, illustrating how punk's significant roots have been rendered fashionably meaningless. Invasions 3 and 4, meanwhile, were largely '80s flashbacks dotted by newcomers (the Killers, Franz Ferdinand) heavily influenced by that era's new-wave pop and pose.
For months rumor had it that Invasion 5 would be a Rock of the '90s bash, perhaps headlined by Nine Inch Nails. That didn't really come to pass, though Saturday at Hyundai Pavilion in Devore it was easy to spot the framework remaining from that unstated concept, as the majority of performers (and most of the choice performances) came from acts that rocketed to popularity a decade ago: Oasis, Beck, Weezer, Garbage, 311, Live, Cake.
But to peg this as '90s revivalism isn't fully accurate.
Where, for instance, does that leave Madness, whose delightful ska-pop (as with Fishbone's madcap punk-funk variety on the second stage) primarily dates to the '80s? And how exactly does Jet's retro rock, recalling Free and the '70s Stones and sounding fiercer here than it did at the Hollywood Bowl earlier in the week, figure into this mix?
And where to slot Bloc Party's intellectual wiriness or the Bravery's hunky Hot Hot Heat-esque dance-rock, critically hyped new twists that sounded tight yet didn't came across as anything other than nebulous and derivative?
And what was the Arcade Fire, a most modern yet simultaneously traditionalist and decidedly anti-trendy outfit from Montreal, doing here? You could sense some bemusement at the whole affair behind leader Win Butler's stonier-than-usual façade, his contempt made clear with a few sardonic remarks about the event's beer sponsorship.
The sprawling, black-clad group, which gamely did its best to overcome myriad technical glitches during its half-hour, continues to prove itself one of the most riveting, inspiring live acts in action. But playing in the baking sun before an unenthusiastic crowd wasn't the place for it.
Yet, lack of discernible purpose and some feebler turns aside, this was one of the strongest Invasions KROQ has mounted, even if, like Weenie Roast, it can begin to drag around the 10th hour or so and is marred by occasional tediousness. Expertly executed as the group's reggae-rap-rock is, an hour of 311 is at least a half-hour too much for me, while still-generic Live's new stuff is as banal as its enduring hits – the only difference is that it doesn't pack the wallop of, say, “I Alone.”
The standouts came from seasoned veterans who surface only intermittently, with Weezer offering the event's finest set.
What a remarkable transformation Rivers Cuomo has undergone since his lifeless Coachella appearance, and what an oddly intriguing performance from a band that could be on its last legs. Rumors have been flying (partly made airborne by the band itself) that the subpar “Make Believe” will be Weezer's last album – which, given the well-meaning but biteless and bland songs Cuomo's hermetic lifestyle produces these days, might be for the best.
For the moment, however, an ineffable, intensifying something seems to have clicked inside the little guy. Maybe touring with Foo Fighters has caused him to raise his game, for after a timid start and a merely pleasant cover of the Foos' “Big Me” his flair for dramatizing nerdy angst and shy romantic anguish against deliciously crunching alt-rock came roaring back, starting with the pleas of “El Scorcho” and a seething “Say It Ain't So.”
Where an intimidated Weezer was simply going through the motions at Coachella, apparently afraid to unveil new material, here the quartet was as explosive as bookish pop geeks can get, lifting marginal material like “Perfect Situation” and “We Are All on Drugs” to the level of better staples, tearing through “Hash Pipe” and “Buddy Holly” with loose vigor and curiously sharing vocal duties (bassist Scott Shriner took “In the Garage,” for instance). If this is their last hurrah, they're making it count.
When Cuomo emerged in the middle of the venue toward the end of Weezer's set to sing “Island in the Sun” alone on guitar, it was one of the day's few captivating moments – but he had been beaten to the punch in some respect. Earlier on, an overcome Shirley Manson, in short-shorts, fishnets and a ripped-up Distillers T-shirt, had gone charging into the crowd during “Only Happy When It Rains.”
It was arguably the hardest-hitting bit from a thoroughly thunderous 4 p.m. set that signaled both the real start of the show and the end of Garbage's North American tour. The band went out with a proverbial bang, furiously stomping through “Push It” and “Vow” and “I Think I'm Paranoid” as if they may never play them again.
About Oasis: Well, I did say they were hit-and-miss live. Where the Bowl wound up being a vocally hoarse miss to me, this hour-long set was almost entirely a hit, with Liam Gallagher's voice nearly restored to full sneering strength (although you can tell it's fading rapidly) and the band playing even more robustly. Here, the mix of old standbys (“Live Forever,” “Wonderwall”) and new favorites (“Lyla,” “Mucky Fingers”) felt seamless, not strained.
Equally invigorated was Beck, whose too-brief, 40-minute performance found him downplaying eye-grabbing gimmicks (save for his Jason Schwartzman-as-Napoleon Dynamite dancer) and ditching the medleys that have marked his current outing. Instead, he focused more on adding renewed zest and speed to his songs, whether quirky (“Girl” came blitzing out like Motown on speed) or low-key (“Lost Cause,” a cover of the Flaming Lips' “Do You Realize??”).
Opening with “One Step Beyond,” Madness, back for the first time since 1998, was justifiably a crowd favorite, blending soulful new covers (including a smart remake of the Supremes' “You Keep Me Hanging On”) with distinctive classics that still inspire new ska outfits: “Baggy Trousers,” “Night Boat to Cairo” (with Fishbone's Angelo Moore joining on sax), “Embarrassment,” “House of Fun,” “Our House.” (Fishbone also fared well around noon on the second stage, highlighted by randy takes on “Party at Ground Zero” and Sublime's “Date Rape.”)
And Cake, that unique, crafty outfit from Sacramento, deserves some kind of award for going on after Oasis (the better to alleviate traffic snarls) and soldiering through a shortened set for what few thousand attendees were left scattered among row after row of empty seats. It was a thankless but necessary task for an excellent but oft-derided band that has dealt with more than its fair share of debilitating blows this year. |
