"People came to see the freak show."- Ryan Adams, Lollapalooza 2006

Truer words could not be said than from the opiate intoxicated Mr. Adams, and quite apropos for the now geographically static three day music orgy that is Lollapalooza. Having found a (semi) permanent home base in Chicago's Grant Park, the latest incarnation of Perry Ferrell's neo-hippie, pre-grunge conception is exponentially larger but still dogmatically dedicated to the inclusion of all music genre acts which remain heavily entrenched into the independent scene (Kanye West, The Raconteurs, and Gnarls Barkley aside).

Yet, despite the flurry of stories available at hand, rock journalists use their reporting of Lolla, and the current round of music festivals, as a chance to conduct a barometric reading of our music consuming generation. In the days following the festival, the printed critique became deafeningly cliche: we are all too commercial, too superficial, and too tragically hip for our own good. Three weeks in, it's now an official cop out "an easy byline" for writers who are strapped by a strict deadline. They seem more concerned about who is going rather than who is performing.

Lolla is especially susceptible because of its history. Fourteen years ago it was the Johnny Appleseed of alternative (today sold as "indie") rock. Lolla, circa 1991, created its own independence by including mainstream acts (Ice T) with alternative acts (the Smashing Pumpkins), unheard of at the time. The intent back then and still today was never an artistic one. It was for the "freak show", the eclectic acts, the unpredictable. The original Lolla actually showcased a literal circus freak show, the Jim Rose Circus, replete with geeks and bearded ladies. (These were precursors to the modern day freak shows now so commonly recruited onto MTV's "Real World".)

While music editors bemoan the hijacking of today's music by trendsetters and dearth of live music appreciation, the average concertgoer feels differently. Like sporting events, all of today's festivals are populated by non-fans, scenesters who are just happy to be there, using their ticket as a form of social status currency. And, that is ok. (It is funny how basketball traditionalists don't cry foul when millions of "posers" show up with brackets to March Madness parties.) Like Kurt Cobain wrote: "We here now, entertain us."  Some of us are here to drink or do drugs. Some are here to collect concert shirts like Donruss rookie cards. Some are here to lie in the grass with their girlfriends and relish in their own moment. But, all are here to bask in the freedom maturity affords and the frivolity youth exhumes. (Yes, even short, cute, loud girls with an overdeveloped sense of entitlement.) There will always be those who would rather drop a band's name in a conversation than take the time to honestly listen to their album. That is the nature of the industry and frankly, the artists themselves count on these people as a constant source of income. Highlighting them to paint Lolla's crowds with a broad brush stroke is pointless.

What these social prognosticators miss in their kvetch fests is the truly unique experience Lolla '06 offered. Unreported highlights from many trades were the space age Finnish explorations of Husky Rescue, the Eno inspired machinations of Manishevitz, the orchestrated "jams" of My Morning Jacket (with their "aw shucks great to be here" attitude), the bandoleer synchronized sets of Calexico, the deadpan delivery of Midwest rockers The Hold Steady, the genre twisting (and flight suit donning) Eels, the summer juggernaut that is Gnarls Barkley (45,000 in attendance), a stoned out Ryan Adams adding extra tarnish to his performance legacy (see above), and a clean and sober Jeff Tweedy leading a rousing set from Wilco with four new songs on the final day. In all, a smorgasbord of acts any fan (or non-fan) would celebrate to, even if stumbled upon accidentally.

So, please do not think I am ridiculing pop music's place in history by saying it once had a grandiose purpose (and power) to change the world but now lost it. I am saying it never did. Like sports, movies, and sex, pop music has always been about spontaneity and playfulness, nothing more. It's always been a freak show. And that in itself can have merit . . . notwithstanding Ryan Adams.