We’ve seen the future of Rock & Roll and its name is no longer Bruce Springsteen. The band on stage at New York’s Ritz sounds like an ailing vacuum cleaner riding roughshod over a madrigal choir. Nonchalantly the musicians step out of the stage-divers’ way as waves of high-intensity drone and retina-piercing white lights wash over the crowd. On the one hand, there exists a fossilizing corpse called classic rock-a four-decade-old mummy grown stale and tired, a once vibrant part of mainstream culture now reduced to background music for car commercials and Olympic events. Imagine a major motion picture in which characters sport faded Mudhoney T-shirts, pull Replacements albums from their record collections, and go hear Alice in Chains, and you’ve scripted Singles, Cameron Crowe’s look at love among the ruins in Seattle (due Sept. 18). Then there’s the Lollapalooza ‘92 tour, a seven-band alternative- rock circus stuffed with the Chili Peppers, Soundgarden, and Pearl Jam.
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http://www.ew.com/ew/article/0,,311492,00.html