But it's nostalgia for Woodstock '69 that drives this festival, carefully market-researched to appeal to 16- to 25-year-olds. Media poobahs rush to their keyboards to reflect on the lofty ideals of the Woodstock Nation and where each went awry. One organizer talks about how the times cry out for ''another gathering of the tribes."
The occasion, as everyone knows, is the 25th aniversary of Woodstock Music and Arts Fair, the best-known counterculture event of the '60s, the granddaddy of rock festivals. But don't be fooled: Next weekend's festival is nothing more than an overgrown concert with an exaggerated sense of self-importance. Any other similarity is purely coincidental.
Having transitioned from the Age of Aquarius to the Age of Marketing Synergy, Woodstock '94 is all set up for pay-per-view and home shopping and a soundtrack album and a behind-the-scenes book and a theatrical film that will probably set a Hollywood record for the longest interval between an original and its sequel.
No question, the inescapable Woodstock II will be an experience. For one long weekend, fans who plunk down $135, follow the fussy carpool guidelines and comply with a set of rules that make boot camp look like Club Med will get the chance to sit in a field and hear Aerosmith, Nine Inch Nails and even Bob Dylan, who somehow missed the first one. Positively idyllic.
The organizers of this marathon - original Woodstock partners Michael Lang, John Roberts and Joel Rosenman, plus PolyGram Diversified Ventures and its concert guru, John Scher - have said all along that they just want to put on a show, make a little money and, on the way, pay tribute to the spirit of the 1969 event.
