ABSTRACT
As rock entered its fourth decade in the mid-90s, the celebration and canonization of its now lengthy history escalated on numerous fronts. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum opened its doors in 1995, new glossy British magazines such as Mojo (1993) and Uncut (1997) devoted extensive coverage to “classic” rock history, and a nonstop parade of CD reissues and box sets united listeners across generations. Given this climate, it was perhaps to be expected that the collective memory of one of rock’s most enduring symbols, Woodstock, should entice promoters to restage the festival on its 25th anniversary in 1994 and then again in 1999. Woodstock ’99, however, differed dramatically from its famous forebear. Tickets for the three-day event cost $150 and rock’s strong capitalist allure attracted festival vendors selling water for $4 a bottle. Most of all, Woodstock’s historic message of communal harmony was lost on a young audience clamoring for angry, aggressive music. By the festival’s end, destructive riots and reports of rape and sexual assault had cast a dark shadow over the event. As journalist Barry Walters writes in his Woodstock review, at the center of the maelstrom lay the music of headlining acts like Limp Bizkit, Korn, and Kid Rock. Mixing together elements of grunge, rap, and a resuscitated heavy metal style, these groups were generally lumped together under the label of “nü metal.” Given the attitudes towards women that seemed to surface at the festival, it is worth asking how far rock had progressed (or regressed) in the three decades since feminists lamented the oppressive nature of “cock rock.”
