Woodstock ’99: The Heavy Beginnings That Shaped My Youth

A coming-of-age story exploring the intersections of early influences, identity, and being a child in an Ozzfest mosh pit

BOHEMIAN AORTA

Published in

The Riff

9 min readJul 3, 2024

Performing in Philadelphia in 2021 — Photo by Julia Leiby

Introduction

In my initial piece, “Echoes of an Infinite Heartbeat: Music as the Pulse of Identity,”I begin a love letter to music, describing how I hear it everywhere — from a symphony of insects at night to the hum of an electrical power line.
Music has always been the backbone of my existence.

In this essay, I explore how music shapes identity and the profound impact it has on our lives.

This will be a series that delves into my evolving relationship with music, my life as a musician, how my tastes have expanded over the years, and the ways music continues to influence my personal growth.

These days, I now find myself loving everything from neo-psych to jazz, country, shoegaze, ambient, and all varieties of weird and fringe sounds.

But it wasn’t always like this.
What was the genesis of all this?

Heavy Beginnings

First, let’s take a trip back to where all magic happens—small-town suburbia. I was born in 1990 and raised in Middletown, Delaware.
Back then, this was just a small suburban town surrounded by rural farmland. There was no big cultural hub, and no other influences coming in besides from family.

As children, we are a product of what we are exposed to, and my environment was relatively insular. The cultural influences were limited to what my family exposed me to, and that shaped my early musical identity, interests, and beliefs.

In an alternate universe, I’d love to imagine myself at age 5, analytically breaking down and having my own opinions on ‘Moving Pictures,’ ‘Permanent Waves,’ or ‘2112,’ all to help my dad better understand the musical context of his favorite band.

‘The intro to YYZ is played in a 10/8 time signature, and actually renders ‘Y-Y-Z’ repeatedly in Morse Code, spelling out the title of the song as they’re playing it, got it, DAD??’

But sadly, I was not this bizarre baby-savant.

My musical identity was inherently the opinions of others, and I was averse to everything else I didn’t know. I regurgitated others’ beliefs, felt them as my own, and was completely okay with this. ‘I listen to everything but rap and country’ — a sentence I now despise because it represents a stereotype and narrow-mindedness in life that reaches far beyond what is being said.
But I was a child, after all, and this was what I was raised to feel was right.

My musical truth growing up was heavy rock, alternative, and nu-metal—pretty badass if I say so myself.

You hear of kids growing up in stricter households, their parents keeping them away from the dangers of particular influences. Sure, there was a period of time when they tried to buy us CDs that were edited and cleared of their Parental Advisory, but this effort fell apart pretty quickly. As far as the intensity of the music's style, this was always free for us to explore.

I grew up listening to groups with my Dad, including Rush, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, Alice In Chains, Yes, Ozzy Osbourne, Nirvana, and Red Hot Chili Peppers. This style of creativity just felt natural.
Anything else felt too soft or, frankly, just straight-up boring.

I did have my own humble beginnings of finding stuff on my own, all thanks to the huge CD catalog subscriptions that would come in the mail, ordering several different things at once for a cheaper discount.
Balancing the heavy with heady acts like Hanson, Smash Mouth, Barenaked Ladies, and the Flipper soundtrack (I was like 8, ok?).

Growing up, a huge part of my musical identity was being educated by my older brother Ryan.

He was three years older and introduced me to Rage Against The Machine, Korn, Sublime, Limp Bizkit, Blink 182, Green Day, and Incubus.
All of it blew my mind at the time.
There was so much aggression, and much of it was really theatrical, which I loved as well. It took the heavy classic rock my Dad enjoyed to a new level. Ryan would burn mixes of all these artists, which I’d listen to endlessly.

I remember having them on my Walkman in late elementary school, playing “Twist” from “Life is Peachy” on repeat. I couldn’t understand a word Jonathan Davis was growling, but I still tried to mime along, convinced I looked super cool.

Woodstock ’99: A Nu Metal Nightmare

Nowadays, we can look back on documentaries about Woodstock ’99 and better understand just how much angst and tension bands were expressing at the time. It was supposed to celebrate music and peace, much like its predecessor, Woodstock ’69. However, it quickly turned into a chaotic and violent event, reflecting the angst and discontent of the late 1990s.

Reports of fires, riots, sexual assaults, and extreme heat marred the festival. The aggressive performances by the same nu metal bands that I loved, helped to fuel the already tense atmosphere.

For many, this festival became a symbol of the dark side of the era’s youth culture, highlighting the underlying frustrations and anger prevalent at the time.

But growing up, this was my “normal.”
This is all I knew.
These visceral groups soundtracked my entire adolescence.

Mall Rat Anthems

I was a little mall rat, practically living at the Christiana Mall almost every weekend. For the uninitiated, this mall was like a little slice of heaven in little ol’ Delaware — mainly because, let's face it, there wasn’t much else to do. That feeling of self-importance, roaming around independently like I was hot stuff, and finding any way I could to get into trouble.

I mourn the feeling of walking around a huge store like FYE, seeing the new releases, endless rows of CDs, and cardboard cutouts. Of course, I still love going to my local record stores, but it was such a different feeling when you didn’t really have access to dig through an artist’s catalog in any other way.

I remember it was in 2000, on one of those trips when I was ten, that I bought a copy of The Beatles’ “1,” believing they were important but not knowing why (they’d become much more important later on).
Later that year, I was also gifted Linkin Park’s “Hybrid Theory” for Christmas, then given a copy of Slipknot’s “Iowa” in my Easter basket.
Yes, Slipknot is in an Easter basket because nothing says, “He is risen,” like Corey Taylor's brutal screams.

A brutal holiday bounty.

Thus begins the journey of self-discovery in music, navigating the balance between the gentle melodies of The Beatles' "She Loves You" and the industrial edge of Mudvayne's "Dig."

Even at a young age, I was so worried about holding onto a particular identity that I'd irrationally be self-conscious of my softer tastes for fear of how others would perceive me (though, of course, they didn't care at all).

The Importance of Live Music: Mosh Pits and Road Sodas

By 2002, when I was 12, I went to see Creed with my family, which was my first bigger live concert. I remember it being too loud and being grumpy. I was also scared of being so high up in the nosebleed seats in the stadium. I got KO’d by Creed — a gentler band, but I couldn’t take it. Not the experience you’d expect with a band whose biggest hit is about welcoming a baby into the world.

I quickly became more comfortable with live shows because my Dad would take us to see so many shows from then on out. Within the next few years alone, we would see Dream Theater several times, Ozzfest annually, RHCP and The Mars Volta, Slipknot, Roger Waters, Linkin Park, The Who, Rush, The Dead, and several more.

How did I get lucky enough to be born to someone who taught me about “road sodas” as a child and protected me in a mosh pit for Lamb of God at Ozzfest?

The Golden Age of Music Television

At home, on the TV, we’d also have a music channel on all the time in the background—back when VH1, MTV, or Fuse actually played music videos. Or I’d sit in the magazine aisle, which really would take up an entire aisle at the time, while my Mom was grocery shopping and dig through any music magazine I could find.

I was so thankful for the opportunity to get lost in the worlds that each artist built visually through these mediums. You felt how important it was when new material was being released at the same time as so many other people, which really helped to create the feeling of a unified scene or culture.

Instead, we have to dig through YouTube to view anything that came out or only see clips on an artist’s social media page. We are left with endless choices and a diluted artistic impact.

Maybe I’m showing my age, but it doesn’t feel the same.
Oh, the bittersweet push and pull of the modern age.

Making Sense of These Early Musical Influences

Looking back on these early influences, I never saw myself as an aggressive child. Yet, the dark sounds of nu-metal and heavy rock became a part of my emotional landscape. It makes me wonder if I gravitated towards it because I needed to express something I didn’t quite have the words for.

Or maybe I just enjoyed it — who the hell knows?

It’s also amusing to reflect on those times because much of what I listen to these days is gentle and what most may consider strange.
I feel far removed from the nu-metal phase, but I still appreciate and celebrate it — like an old middle school yearbook photo awkwardly endearing in the heaviest of ways.

What I do know is that music became my sanctuary, my escape, and my way of connecting with the world. My family’s musical influence, especially from my Dad and brother, was profound. Each band we shared, no matter how gnarly, became a thread in the tapestry of our relationship. These moments are not just memories; they are a testament to the power of music to connect and transform.

Though taking a broader look at influence, how much do we continue to follow the perceptions of others, allowing it to limit our desires?
It might have made sense for me as a kid, but if we aren’t careful, this can continue in various forms throughout life, keeping us away from things that could bring us joy out of fear of judgment.

How much are we still holding onto from childhood just because that’s all we knew? These reflections remind me that breaking free from these ingrained patterns is essential for personal growth and finding our true selves. We can embrace a more authentic and fulfilling path by examining these influences.

Moving Forward

As nice as all these sound in terms of delving into music, it was also a very complicated time for me. Entering middle school, I developed insecurities that would stick with me for the rest of my life.

In future articles, I look forward to sharing more about those internal struggles, how they started and shaped me, and what I did with them.
Music became a powerful tool for social connection, helping me bond with friends, navigate the tricky dynamics of adolescence, and find my place in the world. Yet, it was also a source of vulnerability.

When I eventually began playing music myself and with others, it allowed me to channel my emotions into something tangible.

This is just the beginning of my exploration into how music has intertwined with my life. I’m looking forward to diving deeper into the shifts in my musical taste, the bands, and experiences that left lasting imprints, and how these sounds have been a constant companion through every change and challenge.

❤