O.C. POP MUSIC REVIEW : Diversity Captures a Following : All-day festival features stylists ranging from hard rockers to folkies to rappers.

Chalk up one small blow for diversity, if not for overriding musical excellence.

Dubbed “A Gathering of the Tribes,” the all-day pop smorgasbord at the Pacific Amphitheatre on Sunday attracted 9,000 to 10,000 people, according to promoters--not a bad draw for a 14-act bill that lacked even a single marquee name capable of headlining an amphitheater in Orange County.

This gathering sprang from British rocker Ian Astbury’s idea of creating a festival of contrasting stylists ranging from hard rockers to folkies to rappers. While at least 95% of the audience was white, listeners’ enthusiastic embrace of the lineup’s two rap acts, and their willingness to sample and enjoy the 10-hour day’s full range of performers, showed that diversity has a constituency.

Any worries about rap being rejected, or merely tolerated, disappeared the moment Queen Latifah burst onto the stage late in the afternoon with hammering beats and exuberant personality. She instantly ignited an audience that was ready to rock after having been served a diet of much milder stuff. On a day of performances that were mostly mixed and occasionally dreary, Latifah and Michelle Shocked claimed the two strongest showings.

(A traditional hoop dance by a chanter and a dancer from the American Indian Dance Theatre was another highlight, combining athleticism, symbolism and the almost magical manipulations of an escape artist).

Latifah’s raps offered overworked boastful themes, but what she said mattered less than how she said it. The New Jersey rapper’s 20-minute set communicated zest, humor and friendliness and a healthy measure of confidence and self-respect. Latifah summoned her pal, Sinead O’Connor, from the wings at one point. O’Connor said one word--”hello”--then retreated, ending the day’s best chance for a surprise combination of talents.

The lineup’s other rapper, Ice-T, was all profane bluster and attitude. Sometimes he made sense--notably in his between-songs attack on anti-rap censorship. Ice-T suggested that race, not morality, is the motive behind moves to suppress rap: “It’s not the fear of you hearing a word I might say. It’s the fear of you liking me, the fear of white kids liking black kids, and us getting along again.”

But the Los Angeles rapper’s determination to be uncompromising makes him a blind fool when it comes to the subject of sex. Noting that he has been criticized for sexism, Ice-T flaunted it by calling a blond, buxom, halter-topped fan on stage, then using her as exhibit A in a lesson that women are sex objects first and foremost.

Ice-T was hardly the day’s only performer to sing about raw lust. But some of the others presented a few of the emotions involved. Hard rockers Soundgarden, for instance, were able to offer some contrast between the rampant hormones of “Big Dumb Sex” and the deeper longing of “I Awake.” Some sense that Ice-T appreciates women as people, as well as mounds of manipulable flesh, would be helpful.

Public Enemy might have supplied another rap vision on that subject, what with the new-found respect for women on its “Fear of a Black Planet” album. But the popular and controversial politicized rappers didn’t appear as advertised.

Speaking angrily to the crowd at separate junctures, Astbury, Latifah and Ice-T said Public Enemy was missing because of pressure from local authorities. But Rick Pickering, Costa Mesa’s assistant city manager, said Monday that he was not aware of any efforts by the city to keep the band off the bill. “That’s not an area that we would typically get involved in,” Pickering said. Costa Mesa Police Chief David L. Snowden and representatives of the band could not be reached Monday for comment. Alex Hodges, in charge of concert booking for the Pacific, had no comment when asked backstage Sunday whether there had been pressure from the city to take Public Enemy off the program.

Public Enemy had been scheduled to perform at an identical “Tribes” show held Saturday at the Shoreline Amphitheatre outside San Francisco but did not appear there, either. In that case, Astbury said in an interview, the group’s key rappers, Chuck D and Flavor Flav, failed to make the show because they missed a flight. It had been announced on Friday that Public Enemy would perform at the Bay Area Tribes show, but not in Costa Mesa.

Advising the audience that too much “political rectitude” can cause hemorrhoids, Shocked-- who has been known to deliver a political broadside or two--offered good-time rocking blues that often romped with humor and energy thanks to sharp backing from her allies for the day, the 10-man Tower of Power.

But Shocked interrupted the fun for “Cold Comfort,” a stark folk song about dealing with grief. She said she wrote it for the Tower of Power drummer, whose mother was killed recently by a drunk driver. After that, bringing Tower of Power back for a closing “What Is Hip” was awfully abrupt, but there was no room for deft pacing in a 30-minute set.

The Indigo Girls could take some hints from Shocked about the advantages of not being too solemn. The acoustic folk duo from Georgia mounted some lovely harmonies (there was a nice, rowsing version of the Youngbloods’ “Get Together”) but these women remain earnest to a fault.

There was a reminder during Indigo Girls set that a gathering of diverse tribes creates lots of chances for misunderstanding: While the folkies were singing, Ice-T conducted a grand entrance, promenading along the aisle parallel to the stage and greeting fans before settling into a seat, where he attracted more attention.

It didn’t sit well with Indigo Girl Amy Ray. “The purpose to be here is . . . not to cause a scene. Everybody’s given (his or her) time,” she told the crowd, with justified annoyance. Interviewed at his seat, Ice-T said he meant no disrespect.

Actually, Ice-T’s stroll through the crowd was fun, and the diversion from the Indigo Girls was no great loss. Still, he should have saved it for a break between acts.

The day’s least-known performers, Canadian folk-rockers Crash Vegas and British ‘60s revivalists Charlatans U.K., emerged as promising newcomers who both deserve fuller hearings in more intimate surroundings. Crash Vegas’ intense waif of a singer, Michelle McAdorey, is an intriguing figure, and the band’s instrumental trio was adept at gradually building a song’s intensity. The Charlatans’ dominant Hammond organ sound conjured shades of early, pre-metal Deep Purple and “Revolver”-era Beatles among other ‘60s sources. Not exactly original, but it made for some nice, enveloping waves of sound.

The other rookie rock band on the bill, London Quireboys, regurgitated old Rod Stewart and Faces stuff. They came up with spirited guitar cranking and piano banging on “7 O’Clock” but showed none of the warmth, humor or bonhomie of vintage Stewart.

The Cramps played longer--and worse--than any other band on the bill. The Los Angeles group’s mix of rockabilly, ‘60s garage rock and campy sex-and-horror shtick would have been more palatable if it had been executed briskly. Instead, the Cramps’ sound was a jumbled mess of ugly fuzz bass, inaudible guitar and hoarse vocals from scrawny Lux Interior. Lux is one of the last people on earth you’d want to see cavorting with nearly nothing on--but of course he did, anyway.

Soundgarden’s sludgy hard rock lacked a sharp honed edge, but the Seattle band did pack a rumbling wallop. Singer Chris Cornell’s emotional howls on “Hands All Over” and “I Awake” lifted those numbers out of the instrumental murk.

Mission U.K.’s barefoot singer, Wayne Hussey, was an extremely energetic panderer but still a panderer. His leaps into the audience and gambols about the stage were attention-getters, but the band’s pompous music was at odds with his fun-loving persona. By the way, those were canned rhythm and keyboard tracks on the two songs that Hussey pronounced “the best you’ll hear all day.”

Former Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones makes a decent hard rock sidekick, but his singing was too weak to make him much of a band leader. Things improved when Astbury took over the vocals for the last three songs, and his partner in the Cult, Billy Duffy, arrived to add some guitar riffing. It was monolithic stuff, though, and not nearly enough to fire up a crowd that was clearly tiring near the end of a long day.

Iggy Pop finished with a set that was awfully restrained, considering his well-earned position as one of rock’s most combustive live performers. A mediocre band with a guitarist given to metal-style noodling didn’t help. But Pop’s material was mostly first rate, especially since he drew heavily on the repertoire of his original band, the Stooges.

Pop was the only performer in the lineup who began recording in the 1960s (only Jones and the Cramps got their start in the ‘70s). No misty Woodstock sentimentality for Iggy, though. Singing the Stooges’ song “1969,” he remembered it as a time of alienation: “Another year for me and you, another year with nothing to do.”

If Astbury is really serious about diversity, the next time the Cult--an established arena headliner--goes on tour, he’ll insist on a Queen Latifah, a Michelle Shocked or a Charlatans U.K. as an opening act, instead of the usual “compatible” opener. That could mean some financial sacrifice, because “compatible” acts tend to increase the draw.

But if that happens (and don’t bet on it, because it would mean going against the principle of profit maximization), it will be interesting to see whether audiences not primed in advance for diversity are as receptive as the crowd that came to the Pacific on Sunday, open to anything.

Times staff writer Rick VanderKnyff contributed to this report.