WARPED TOUR

7.24.00
Randall's Island
New York, NY
Story and photos by Hal Miller

The scene beneath the Triborough Bridge at Randall's Island - swelling throngs of impatient teens tossing plastic bottles and promo cassettes - is a fitting introduction to a day at the Warped Tour. This could be any large gathering of harmless, obnoxious kids anywhere, but the band t-shirts, youthful energy and multi-hued hairstyles hint at restless images of punk's past.

Excitement and impatience mount as the line of bodies thickens. Predictably, the kids soon pull down a fence and run for the field, only to return moments later followed by cops on horseback. A lengthy wait ensues before the shifting lines are allowed to enter Warped territory, but a collective sense of humor about the situation keeps the crowd's mounting edginess in check.

A busy day of punk rock has already begun by the time most of us make it onto the field. Sizable crowds gather before both main stages to take in opinionated punks Anti-Flag and Gainesville, FL's Hot Water Music. As HWM's final emotionally draining note fades, ska-core maniacs Suicide Machines slap us upside our heads with upbeat, buzz-saw melodies. Frenetic front man Jason Navarro gives the kids everything he's got and more, panting and tumbling about as he leaps from the stage to share the mic with the punks behind the barricade. The day is moving quickly but there are still a couple dozen bands that have yet to play.

As I make my way around the field, checking out the merch tables, I do my best to avoid tripping over people and getting tangled in limbs. The infamous dust has already begun to infiltrate everyone's lungs and nostrils. Crowd surfers tumble over the barricades holding onto their air filter masks as the bands play. I spot a health-conscious sort sporting a black, full-face respirator mask, similar to that of the apocalyptic-looking Warped Tour mascot. I realize that I'm the crazy one, having arrived totally unprepared for this "X-Treme" dust storm.

Visits to the smaller stages produce few satisfying results, with the exceptions of CA trio Relish, rockers The Line, and Brooklyn, NY's cabaret-inspired the World/Inferno Friendship Society. World/Inferno front man/side show barker Jack Terrycloth swings on the Volcom stage's poles, looking like a vampiric Pee-Wee Herman, to his band's eclectic punk-ska-swing sound. A lovely redhead percussionist turns her cymbals to flames and the band rocks on, drawing a fair sized crowd to their tiny area.

Backstage, things are pretty mellow. A few kids sneak back and gawk as members of New York hardcore kings Sick of it All chill with the suave and perpetually intoxicated Dicky Barrett of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. NOFX and numerous band members escape the heat under tents in front of their buses.

The skate and BMX portion of the show, safely enclosed within a metal fence, offers a spectacle to which the heat oppressed masses can safely rest its collective rear. Boards and bikes fly up and down the ramp. Some of the riders fall and skid down the pipe in mild frustration while others manage to entertain our short attention spans with gravity-defying feats.

A few feet away, dapper Barrett and his Mighty Mighty Bosstones stir up the kids, inviting them on stage to sing along. An eager wave of punters pours over the barrier as the Warped veterans escort their fans to skank their asses off by their side. The sun pushes its way through the overcast sky, lifting the collective spirit.

It's summertime again and the kids want their tunes sugary and easy to swallow, with a little attitude thrown in for good measure. But the best performance of the day, next to pop-punk headliners Green Day, NOFX and MxPx, belongs to metallic hardcore aggressors Snapcase.


Having joined the Warped fray several times throughout the course of the tour's six years, the hard-hitting Buffalo, NY quintet are no strangers to Punk Rock Summer Camp.

The attentive yet lukewarm reaction from the crowd during the first two songs seems worlds away from Snapcase's over the top performance. The band is exhausting to watch, so it makes sense that our eyes become more active than our limbs in reaction to the controlled insanity on stage. The sinister "Zombie Prescription" and the emotive "Ambition Now" lose a bit of their signature sonic power to the open air but the band tear through their thirty minutes with an untouchable intensity.

Half the size of an average drill sergeant with double the vocal power, front man Daryl Taberski screams about individuality and self esteem to the young and impressionable crowd. Alternately leaping about and doubling over at the lip of the stage, Taberski goes for the barricade, meeting with a mix of enthusiastic fans and punks just along for the ride. The violently churning rhythm section ensures a consistent percolation up front. Rocking out with choreographic leaps to the stop and start rhythm of each song, Snapcase leave us dazed in their hard-rocking wake.

Jurassic 5 cool things down a bit with their old school beats and smooth rhymes. Their clever brand of hip-hop, a welcome change in mood and sound, adds some much-welcomed flava to today's entertainment. Later, Sweden's Millencolin help us to forget the Long Beach Dub All Stars' tepid reggae rock with a high-energy set of, you guessed it, pop punk. NOFX's Fat Mike jumps up to harass the talented Swedes and share the mic for a song or two. The crowds grow thicker as the day wears on.

Fat Mike soon appears again, bristling green hair and shit eating grin, but this time with his own band NOFX. The crowd explodes to classics "Soul Doubt" and "The Brews." Standing from far away, the field looks like one big mosh pit with a dust cloud over it. In between songs, Mike spews forth with wisecracks, occasionally sticking his foot in his mouth. One negative comment on the latest Bad Religion album has him justifying his statement moments later. "All I meant was that the new Bad Religion album sucks," Mike explains, "but you should buy their old stuff."

Next up is the day's biggest draw, Green Day. The most successful punk band on the planet tears through thirty minutes with "Longview," "Welcome to Paradise," "Brain Stew" and other high-energy numbers that ensure plenty of pit action. The Bay Area hooligans attack their instruments and manage to pull off most of their shtick within the confines of the condensed set list. Billie Joe honors one lucky punk by inviting him to play guitar on one song with the band, a life-changing moment for sure. Grinning like a juvenile delinquent, Tre Cool lights his drums on fire to the cheers of several thousand satisfied faces as the beginnings of a warm summer rain anoints the field.

Being the final act on a daylong bill of rock can be tough, but MxPx make enduring the dust and drizzle worth the wear and tear on the lungs. The righteous rockers' unrelenting energy and speedy punk tempos give us a fifth wind, ending the show on a high note.

Sneezing and choking on brown phlegm, I leave Randall's Island bruised, dirty and fairly satisfied. Sure, it took a few days to cough up all the dust, but it was worth it.