A KROQ Weenie Roast and Luau Odyssey

By Edward de la Fuente

12:47 p.m. The line of cars seems to stretch endlessly, around a hill, behind it and continuing on the other side. Traffic is moving excruciatingly slow on Interstate 405, even by Los Angeles standards. I begin to get antsy.
We are all waiting in line to get into Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre for the Fifth Annual KROQ Weenie Roast and Luau, an event as long as the name would indicate. All of us are enduring the traffic to watch 14 of the most popular alternative bands in what promises to be the biggest one-day show in quite a while. I realize that I am here not so much to have fun, but to fulfill a journalistic assignment, so I keep myself from getting too excited.
When I finally get my car parked, I quickly find out that the name of the show is not the only thing that's long: the process of getting into the venue and the walk from the entrance to the seating area also takes an eternity. No time to sample the tons of booths lining the walkway; I rush to my seat and get there just in time to catch the first act, Third Eye Blind.
It has to be tough to be the first of 14 bands, but Third Eye Blind does an admirable job. Singer/guitarist Stephan Jenkins shows boundless energy, and he prances around the stage like a hybrid of Michael Stipe and Scott Weiland. During "Narcolepsy," Jenkins stops to tell the crowd, "Sometimes in life, you have to take a good look at yourself and ask, `why am I here? What am I doing here?'" Somehow, I have a feeling I will find out before the night is over.
2:14 p.m. I take a pass on Reel Big Fish to check out all the booths that are set up outside the seating area. Everything from body piercing booths to video game tents to the Rainforest Action Network is here, but the line is just too long for everything, so I can do no more than stand and watch. After a while, I begin to ask myself, "Where are the weenies?" After all, this is the Weenie Roast. I see plenty of Hawaiian food, as well as Domino's Pizza and Del Taco, but no weenies. Finally, I find a sausage booth and think to myself, close enough. I buy a $5 bratwurst and return to the show.
3:28 p.m. I come to the decision that Radiohead has to be the most under-appreciated band in the world. It is an injustice for them to appear as early as they did (fourth on the bill), while half the crowd is still out in the festival area. Those who do watch seem to know little about them. The English quintet perform a stunning version of their new single, "Paranoid Android." Then singer Thom Yorke proceeds to call all of us "(expletive) mindless" before launching into "The Bends." I can't blame him; most of the crowd is probably waiting for them to play "Creep," which they thankfully never do.
4:11 p.m. What is it about these big, 10-member ska bands that make people fall out of their seats? Reel Big Fish and Squirrel Nut Zippers have everybody dancing on their seats, and now the Mighty Mighty Bosstones have the audience under their spell. Singer Dicky Barrett orders the crowd to get up and "shake their asses," and they obey. Leading the way is Ben Carr, the band's designated "Bosstone." His sole purpose on the stage is to dance, but he is the most entertaining figure on the stage.
It is during "Someday I Suppose," that I first become tempted to get up and join everyone, but I stick to my plan of taking notes and observing more than enjoying. Finally, during "The Impression That I Get," I throw all journalistic decorum to the wind. I get up and start dancing along with everybody else. This lasts for only about 30 seconds, though, before I nearly pitch forward onto the woman in front of me. After giving a sheepish apology, I take my seat and continue to take notes.
6:27 p.m. After Social Distortion and the Wallflowers, Echo and the Bunnymen, who are releasing their first new album in 10 years, take the stage. Singer Ian McCulloch continues the trend of Englishmen with an attitude that was started by Yorke, taking long drags on cigarettes and raving at the stagehands before, after and during songs. But, beginning with "Lips Like Sugar" and continuing through all their old hits, Echo has a very good stage presence.
7:16 p.m. I have always thought that Damon Albarn, the singer of Blur, was a weird fellow, but I didn't know how enjoyable his weirdness could be. Wearing a green shirt with "California 86" on it, Albarn declares, "I'm wearing green ... because I'm a green man," and bounces around the stage endlessly. During "Song 2," the band has the crowd of 17,000-plus yelling out Albarn's infectious "Whoo-hoo!" Including me, until I catch myself.
8:04 p.m. The notepad is completely gone now, and I am out of my seat for the Foo Fighters. The quartet's second album, The Colour and the Shape, is by far a more heartfelt album than their first self-titled effort, and it shows in their performance. For songs like "Everlong" and "New Way Home," singer/guitarist Dave Grohl and his bandmates give more feeling, while they seem to have a good time with "Alone + Easy Target."
8:57 p.m. KROQ DJ Rodney Bingenheimer introduces Oasis as "the best band in the world," and for 40 minutes singer Liam Gallagher struts around on the stage as though he knows it. The Manchester, England group does their best to prove it, though. Noel Gallagher, Liam's brother, has wonderful stage presence, and the songs they choose to play are powerful even though they don't perform their most powerful song, "Live Forever." Between each song Liam will say something to the audience through his thick Mancunian accent, and after everything he says comes this collective response from the crowd: "What?"
9:49 p.m. One thing I hadn't expected to be doing during this show was ducking a shower of trash, but that is what I am doing now. The reason for this is Offspring frontman Dexter Holland's innocent plea that we all pick up our trash and deposit it in its proper receptacle. Only Holland's idea of "proper receptacle" is the stage. So, while the band finishes up its set with "Self-Esteem," all of us are taking cover as though we're hearing an air raid siren. Afterward, I take inventory on myself, and find a big red streak across the back of my white shirt. The guy in front of me has it too, and doesn't know it. Somebody above us didn't like his french fries and ketchup, I guess.
10:36 p.m. The Chemical Brothers are trying their hardest to turn Irvine Meadows into one big rave party, but the audience isn't cooperating. At first I am trying to enjoy myself and dance along, until I look around and see nobody else doing it. For the second time today, I sheepishly take a seat. I would have thoroughly enjoyed the set if it weren't for the strobe light behind them that flashed every so often directly in my eye. It was as though they had purposely aimed it at me to get me to sit down or something. I guess they achieved their objective if that was the case.
Sometime after 1 a.m. I have lost all track of time now. The Cure have just finished their set, and the Weenie Roast is finally over after 12 hours. I am still seeing spots from that strobe light and my legs are sticky from the 12 ounces of beer that rained down on me over the course of the day, but I don't mind at all. In response to Jenkins' question posed at the beginning of the day, I know why I'm here.
To have a good time.