The Jamboree, Q101’s annual parade of alterna-rock stars, semi-stars and one-hit-wonders, is consistently one of the largest and finest of the numerous radio station festivals.
While 1997’s Bush-headlined festival may have boasted bigger names, the performances were usually uninspired and frequently awful (not counting Beck, who dressed his band up as barnyard animals; we won’t see his like again).
Despite several lapses in judgment this time around, like having the enormously popular Fastball open up the second, smaller stage at the World Music Theater, during a time when most fans were still arriving, or letting the far less popular Spacehog open the main stage, 1998’s Jamboree was a steadier, more frequently likable affair.
The Good: Soul Asylum, still one of the most vital, energetic live acts around. While their set seemed uncharacteristically sullen, their ersatz cover of Wyclef Jean’s “Gone Till November” was one of the day’s few genuine surprises.
Eve 6, a California-based cross between Green Day and a less bludgeony Silverchair, sounded peppy and assured during a midday second stage slot.
The Foo Fighters, the only band to go on when it was dark, provided energy, brisk professionalism, and bombast aplenty.
The Very Good: They Might Be Giants, undeservedly relegated to the second stage, where they arranged an audience participation number around a Planet of the Apes tribute, and shot confetti out of a cannon during a homage to President James Polk.
Ben Folds Five, by far the day’s least self-satisfied act, injected some much-needed humor–not to mention artistry–into the proceedings.
The Barenaked Ladies, who did likewise during a gleeful, agreeable set. In what was perhaps an attempt to prove that people from Canada can be funky, the Ladies interspersed some brief snippets of hip-hop and funk and wound up proving only that they’re no Beastie Boys.
The Others: Spacehog, who plodded gamely onward despite having to ply their glammy, Spiders-from-Mars wares at the ungodly hour of 1:30 p.m.
Creed, earnest if sludgy, unlike many other acts throughout the long day gets bonus points for not looking like they would rather be anywhere else.
Scott Weiland, who looked frightful (cropped, flaming red hair, and 90 pounds soaking wet) and sounded alternately confident and lost. Weiland’s version of his old band’s hit “Vaseline” made one almost nostalgic for the Stone Temple Pilots, who, whatever their numerous flaws, seemed relatively normal by comparison.
