Collective Soul, Blues Traveler...

Nostalgia is thick in the air. It seeps from the ground, oozes from every person; middle-aged mothers squeez into their daughter’s clothing, grown men acting like college frat boys, a barbeque pit is burning, burgers are thrown down. We’re at the Greek Theatre in Griffith Park, Los Angeles, California. It’s a perfect setting for the night to come – a wide, open pavilion surrounded by tall trees and a wide sunset sky, just out of reach from the city and its smog and sirens and horns and chaos. Out here, in this perfect moment, we’re all back in the ‘90s.

The Greek Theatre hosted Blues Traveler, Collective Soul, and Live (with special guest Hana Pestil) on Sunday night…though it didn’t feel like a concert. It was more like a backyard party with a few friends playing guitars.

When Hana Pestil opens the show, the house is only half-full, if that. People are still outside in front of the theatre, where there are grassy patches and bars set up. Pestil seems a bit like your typical chick with a guitar, though there is potential there – one song, “Red Death Ball,” carries interesting and snappy lyrics that most find enjoyable. However, she ends on a rendition of “Creep” (Radiohead), probably in an attempt to stick with the whole ‘90s theme. However, she probably should stick to her own material.

Blues Traveler takes the stage next. There is an energy lacking in the band. The guitar player seems to have on a plastic smile. At one point, the singer and the guitar player stop and smoke cigarettes while the band jams on. The singer has his back turned to the audience the whole time during this. As more people filter in, they liven up a bit and start getting more into the music. They end their set with a few crowd favorites: “The Mountains Win Again” into “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” (Charlie Daniels) into “The Hook.” While the vocal cracks here and there, they end pretty strong. Something is missing, though, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Collective Soul takes the stage, and they come out swinging. Full of energy and life, there’s nothing more interesting than seeing a bleach-blond, aging rock star run around and jump off things. They open with “Heavy” and get the crowd, now almost packed, really going. With the same energy, they run through all the songs that we all know: “December,” “Hollywood,” “World I Know,” etc. Hana Pestil comes back out to throw down some vocals on “Shine,” and the whole set is good – really good, even. Something is still missing, though.

Then Live takes the stage. The guy’s voice is nasally and whiny. People know the songs, though, so they love it. There’s plenty of energy, and all the classics come out: “I Alone,” “Lightning Crashes,” “Heaven,” and so on.

What’s missing? It’s bothering me. I can’t enjoy the show because of it. Then, as Live is jumping around, I realize that it’s all a show. It seems as if these bands are doing covers of their own songs, if that makes sense. They’re not singing them because they want to – they have to. It’s what people came here for. The bands are probably pretty tired of these songs. I mean, they’ve been singing them for nearly two decades now. Remember when they were big and on the radio every other song? Remember how old that got and how disgusted we were with the songs playing over and over and over? Imagine how they must feel.

It’s what the people want, though. They want that nostalgic trip down memory lane. Bill was president again. Monica wasn’t yet around. It was a frat party everywhere. Everything was carefree, and our biggest problem was our own angst from being so damned content. It’s why we cling to music, especially what we listened to when we were young. The music takes us back to that place. The wave hadn’t broken yet and we were still riding high and fast. And music will always take us back to that place, every time we get lost in those four chords. And it always will.