Uproar Festival Gexa Energy Pavilion Sunday, September 16
See also: The tattooed fans of Uproar Festival
"Buttrock: a term to identify a band trademarked with cheap, unoriginal song lyrics; the vocalist hiding his lack of vocal talent by producing a deep and 'raspy' voice (i.e. Nickelback, Creed)" - Urban Dictionary
At the third annual Rockstar Energy Drink Uproar Festival, I had one mission: to discover if "buttrock" is really the appropriate term for the musical movement that inherited the leftovers of the grunge revolution. Thirteen bands attempted to rock Gexa Energy Pavilion while hundreds of metal heads gathered around vendors selling rock memorabilia as if they were at a flea market instead of a festival.
Although the rain delayed some of the concert attendees, a small crowd watched the first couple of acts, while I moved from vendor to vendor, wishing I'd brought an umbrella.
A few choice Germanic words were uttered after Godsmack showed 20 minutes late to sign autographs. In typical I'm a rockstar, screw the rest of you fashion, singer Sully gave a big "Fuck you" to the fans and skipped the signing. I spent most of the show surfing on waves of reefer as band after band took the stage, but I was able to write a few highlights just in case I fell off my surfboard:
Fozzy Osbourne: First, to my dismay, Fozzy Bear is not the lead singer. It is some guy whom I thought resembled Johnny Knoxville on steroids, but several perturbed fans growled, "It's Chris Jericho, asshole!" When I asked, Who?, they slammed me to the ground.
P.O.D: Lead singer Sonny Sandoval lost his shoe, and begged and pleaded for fans to return it, but they were in the throes of a Texas-sized mosh pit and ignored his request.
Adelitas Way: I don't even know where to begin.
Papa Roach: No show. (Thank the devil.)
Staind: Amazingly, they played all their MTV hits. Fans loved them.
Godsmack: I thought for sure these guys would illuminate "buttrock." And they did. I mean, just close your eyes and you're listening to a spinoff of Alice in Chains, though they did partially redeem themselves with their tribute to Dimebag Darrell.
Shinedown: Not only was their show overloaded with pyrotechnics from the '80s to help take your mind off the music, but singer Brent Smith also gave a performance that would make Tom Cruise proud as he belted his arena rock for the droves.
I survived the festival, but my mind is scarred with one thought: this "type" of music has morphed grunge's message into "feed the machine" instead of "rage against the machine."