Review of Netflix’s three episode docuseries Trainwreck: Woodstock ‘99
MTV ran parallel to my life, from childhood into early adulthood. I was seven when the music television conglomerate inception began on August 1, 1981, playing The Buggles’ cheeky video “Video Killed the Radio Star.” It seemed only apt, if not ironic, that this video would be the first one played in music television history.
When Prince’s song “1999” came out in 1982, I could remember trying to do the math to figure out how old I’d be in 1999. I’d be the ripe age of twenty-five, but back in 1982, when I was eight, I’d envisioned the dawn of the new millennium much like the futuristic cartoon The Jetsons. Who would’ve guessed that in 1999, Woodstock ’69 would make its last-ditch revival. And that it would all go down in flames and feces-filled mud slides.
One quiet Sunday afternoon, I slipped into bed, and began to watch Netflix’s three episode docuseries called Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99. Michael Lang was the face behind Woodstock. The original Woodstock took place on a lush green, large acre farm property in Bethel, New York, August 15–18, 1969. Thirty years later, Lang would attempt it again but this time in Rome, New York at the former Griffiss Air Force Base. Unlike the original site, the air force base was nothing but concrete slab, providing no shade against the blistering hot sun. The location was mistake number one. More mistakes would follow in succession such as their contracting out all food and drinks, which vendors would then mark up exceedingly high to its captive market. That was just greed, which was the sentiment echoed throughout the three day summer event.
Touting itself as “Not Your Parents’ Woodstock,” Woodstock ’99 was a shit show, and I mean that quite literally. Mistake number two was failing to provide enough bathroom facilities and hygienic access to clean water. By the last day of the festival, the remaining revelers started to take nosedives into what they thought was mud but in actuality was overflowing feces from the unworkable portable toilets.
The environment began to turn from fun to criminal as many women reported being raped and groped. There was a machismo, white “frat boy” Fight Club angst that crescendoed into outright anarchy during Limp Bizkit’s song “Break Stuff.” Yet while all this was going on, out-of-touch co-promotors, Michael Lang and John Scher, would gaslight journalists in interviews, glossing over obvious concerns that the on-site journalists were witnessing for themselves. The irony of their tone-deafness was felt no greater than after the last act played ― Red Hot Chili Peppers. Their overhyped finale included the handing out of candles to concert goers in the spirit of the original Woodstock. The sentimental act, however, was totally lost on them; instead, they’d burn the place down.
One guitar riff of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” took down the hedonistic, ’80s glam metal hair bands, who, up till that moment, had dominated the music scene, making them look foolishly obsolete with just one chord and flannel shirt.
In 1999, NSYNC would become the new threat. Some say Woodstock ’99 killed ‘90’s era music for good, one of the best decades in music history.
