It was virtually impossible to catch all bands, given that various stages were set up where bands played concurrently. Even a backstage pass didn't do much to avoid the crowds, so tough choices had to be made! Unfortunately, Blondie canceled. Maybe Debbie Harry was feeling her 53 years and wasn't up to the action, who knows.

I would have really enjoyed catching the complete set of the Chemical Brothers. The little I saw was simply fantastic. Tom Rowlands and Ed Simmons performed a mind-boggling mix of their trademark garage-techno-trance hybrid sound. Unfortunately, the somewhat clueless organizers stuck the band in a tent that accommodated roughly 4,000 people, while at least twice as many waited outside. Thanks also to the organizers, I missed Massive Attack on the main stage while stuck in the Chemicals' tent. Needless to say, the air inside the tent was too thick to breathe. Not even their great performance could make me face a circulatory breakdown, so off I went.

Placebo

Placebo gave a great performance, although it seemed a waste to let them go on early in the afternoon. The three guys with the three different nationalities hammered it out with a vengeance, performing a mix of old and new material. Androgynous frontman Brian Moloko enchanted the audience with scolds, pouts, playing up the gender confusion to the hilt, adding furious guitar riffs and a voice that cuts to the core. The audience greeted his devilish grin with an uproar of wolf whistles and catcalls to which Brian responded, "We like to provoke strong reactions." Needless to say, they had the audience in their pockets from start to finish.

Hole's gig was awaited with great anticipation. Of course, Ms. Love is always good for some gossip. Would she insult the audience again and storm off stage? Surprisingly, she didn't cause a scandal and kept her insults mostly to herself – at least on stage, that is. As for the backstage happenings, I plead the Fifth. I will say that their performance really makes you appreciate the work of the sound engineers in the studio. It seems that Courtney tries to make up for her lack of vocal skills by treating the audience to a customary glance of her surgically enhanced body. She appears to have a fondness for flashing the crowd with her silicone breasts. So much for the classy lady in Versace gowns at Hollywood parties. Thankfully, to the great relief of the folks in the first row, she refrained from spitting and stage diving into the audience. Like her or not – and I guess I don't – the band itself is good but would certainly be better if the musical skills of the other members, and not Courtney's ego, got a bit more of the spotlight. Maybe someone should point out to her that snarling "fuck off" isn't the key to being a glamorous rockstar.

Hole was followed by Bush, which was one of the highlights – if not the highlight – of the day and instantly made up for Courtney's stage antics. Frontman Gavin Rossdale was in decidedly good spirits – rumor had it that the clouds that showed up later in the afternoon were caused not by the fickle god of the weather but by Gav's "smoking up a storm." Bush treated us to a no-nonsense gig of serious, infectious rock. What more can I say? The prize for the most crowd-pleasing show definitely goes to them and makes us bite our nails just a tad harder for the long-awaited release of The Science of Things. The band proved that despite all rumors, they're still in top-notch form. One of the biggest surprises of the Bush show was not the brilliant mix of old and soon to be released material, but the fact that the majority of the audience was over 16 and male. Bush certainly have more to offer than Gavin's scrawny pinup looks. I would bet that the majority of the audience would rather have listened to the band for longer than the mere hour they were allotted.

The Britpop-renouncing Blur were next and after the energy driven set of Bush, the show was rather anti-climatic. Frontman Damon Albarn did his best to appear like a true slacker. The somewhat boring show would have been more worthwhile musically, if they didn't sound like a slightly watered down English version of Pavement. Truth be told, I was never too fond of their "I wanna be an intellectual and I'm trying hard to be a slacker" approach.

When the clouds began to break and the festival turned into a slippery and muddy affair, I decided to look for shelter and pass on the rest of the bands. One thing about festivals, after a while you just seem to OD (on rock'n'roll, that is). Since I had a dinner engagement, I didn't mind missing the mud fight all that much. I spared a sympathetic thought for all the campers out there and headed for dry environs. I moped a bit about missing Massive Attack; but then, such is life.

Sunday found me slightly hung over, hidden behind shades, and stumbling around the festival a bit. I silently prayed to the powers above to tone down the noise in my aching head and dim the sun down a notch. In attempt to keep myself from dehydrating in the blistering sun, I gulped down a couple of lagers, and needless to say, stumbled a bit more. (My heartfelt thanks to my escort, whose arm around my waist more than pleasantly steadied me.)

I caught the Goo Goo Dolls, but wasn't too impressed. Don't get me wrong, musically they were great, but why John Reznik insists on mimicking the stage behaviour of Jon Bon Jovi is beyond me. As if it isn't bad enough to be cursed with Bon Jovi looks and hair, copying the stage antics of the '80s glam rocker really is a bit over the top. The crowd, being more familiar with the band's ballad hits, appeared confused by the more punk-sounding music. The Dolls had a hard time persuading the gushing 16-year-old girls to dance. Most of them only knew "Iris" from the soundtrack City of Angels and were clearly more taken with Reznik's looks than the pop punk tunes. Nevertheless, they finally managed to get a moshpit going toward the end of the 45-minute gig.

Skunk Anansie clearly dominated the second day of the festival. Singer Skin is an energetic dervish whose astonishing voice can carry off anything, from tear-jerking soul ballads to hard-rocking grunge. The band virtually exploded on stage, leaving delighted old and new fans in their wake. Yes, Skunk Anansie can rock, and they can rock hard. If you miss them when they perform near you, well, it's your own bloody fault. Let's just say that the material from their new album Post Orgasmic Chill is bound to give you one yourself.

Pavement were truly fantastic and, I might add, wasted on the small alterna-tent. Given the climate, it resembled more of a Finnish steam bath than a stage. Although Stephen Malkmus claims he's in a league with all the singers who cannot sing, his vocal presence is undeniable and has just the right amount of rasp to scratch you pleasantly. They treated the crowd with songs from their new album Terror Twilight and highlights of previous albums like Brighten the Corners. Malkmus, often rumored to be arrogant, was in excellent character. After finishing the performance, he headed off, not only in search of food and lager, but to catch as many other bands perform as possible.

Marilyn Manson, who held the headlining slot on Sunday night, was a bit of a disappointment. He seemed to be in a great mood when I spoke with him earlier in the day, but something must have transpired that dimmed his temperament a bit. Given the tight timing restraints of the concert, every band did its best to avoid long waiting periods between sets – except Mr. Manson, that is. After 30 minutes, the crowd grew restless. Manson finally deigned an appearance, giving an uninspired performance of two songs – one of them "I Am the King of Fuck" – which saw him rolling around the stage, showing a bare and rather bony butt, trashing microphones and throwing them into the crowd, before leaving the stage for another 30 minutes without explanation. He returned for a rather brief and slightly boring version of the Eurythmic's "Sweet Dreams" before disappearing again – this time for good. The audience tried to taunt and lure him out again by singing "Country Roads," but it was all to no avail. When it was announced that the band had left the festival for good, the fans stormed the stage destroying the equipment. The police, to their credit, reacted reasonably and tried to calm the crowd instead of inciting more turmoil. Sandra Nasic, the singer of the Guano Apes, showed remarkable courage by grabbing a microphone and asking the upset crowd to calm down. "It was a peaceful festival, let's not start a war now," she pleaded. The reasons for Marilyn's departure are rather speculative. MTV and Scorpio Concerts first claimed undisclosed problems with the bands own equipment, and then announced that the artist had personal problems. Given the undeserved indignation Marilyn continually suffers from right wingers, not to mention the backlash after the Littleton, Colorado shootings, it's more than understandable that he might be somewhat edgy these days.

I can't vouch for Everlast myself, but a friend who saw them perform on another stage – missing both Hole and Bush – returned rather grumpy, saying they were the embarrassment of the festival. I couldn't muster up too much sympathy. In my book, anyone who takes Everlast over Bush doesn't deserve any, not even a friend.

The other big event in Munich was the "What More Can I Give" benefit concert of Michael Jackson and friends, a nine-hour mega affair for the children of war-torn Kosovo. The show featured a ton of artists, ranging from pop rock to classical. As openers they even got Status Quo out of retirement, but most of the lineup seemed to have seen better days. Luciano Paverotti did not show; a cold was given as an excuse. (Funny, the cold coincided with the warrant from several European countries for tax fraud.) Even Elizabeth Taylor, Jackson's surrogate mom, bowed out for undisclosed health reasons, leaving Jackson to fend for himself. Jackson himself obviously hadn't learned from his previous injuries with fireworks (remember the Pepsi commercial in '84?) and suffered some minor burns that were treated in a Munich hospital. After a lot of hubbub, the artist left the hospital a day later and flew home to his kids...

July 1999