THE NOW GENERATION : Lollapaloozer to Hippola: Give It a Rest, Will Ya?

“Everything is in place for the greatest weekend of peace and music in 25 years.”

--John Roberts, “Woodstock ‘94” organizer

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A “Woodstock ‘94” commercial flashes on MTV between Janet Jackson and Snoop Doggy Dogg videos. A carefree teen skips through a green field, rambling on about how his friend’s dad is taking his psychedelic bus to “Woodstock ‘94,” and how he and his friend are going too, for the convergence of generations.

His generic baggy wear flops around with all of his clumsy moves, while a list of bands playing at next month’s festival--which still uses the dove and guitar logo, but now says “two more days of peace”--scrolls by in groovy script on the bottom of the screen. The commercial is capped by the fleeting words “Sponsored by Pepsi and Nike.”

Fittingly, the next commercial on MTV is Oliver Stone hawking a Macintosh computer.

The ‘60s are alive--and more bloated and self-important than ever.

It’s the 25th anniversary of Woodstock and no one’s gonna let us forget it--even to the point of pushing it on a generation 30 years removed.

This time around, contemporary groups such as Nine Inch Nails, the Rollins Band and Metallica will play the same stage with some of Woodstock’s original artists, including Crosby, Stills & Nash, Joe Cocker and Santana.

Bob Dylan will even grace the weekend for that extra blast of nostalgia, maybe following the power-punk sounds of upstarts Green Day.

No doubt there will also be speeches about all the breakthroughs made in the ‘60s--and how members of my generation and others could be just as great if they’d try hard enough.

Wasn’t the original Woodstock the brainchild of ‘60s youth--something that their Pat Boone-weaned parents couldn’t touch, let alone understand?

Rock ‘n’ roll isn’t about celebrating someone else’s generation or bonding with your parents. It’s about defining your differences and discovering things for yourself instead of being coerced into recycling the old. It’s about voicing your feelings, the feelings of your generation.

The attempt by “Woodstock ‘94” to merge the generations is intrusive, not to mention self-righteous. Why would anyone assume that young people today want, or should have to live, in the glory of a bygone era?

The ‘60s--with all its naive ideas--are shoved down our throats like spinach. It’s good for you! I hope I’m not shoving Nirvana and the wondrous rebellion of hard-core punk down my kids’ throats when I’m 45.

Has the Woodstock generation--or, more to the point, the “Woodstock ‘94” organizers--forgotten how it felt to shut the door and blast Hendrix? It was something that was all their own--a sanctuary from the adult world that pissed them off so.

“Lollapalooza” is the Woodstock of the ‘90s, minus the nauseating nostalgia. It’s a show most parents would not want to attend. This is a good thing.

In the sweltering early July heat of “Lollapalooza ‘94’s” opening show in Las Vegas, 17-year-old fan Rebekah Pfeifer sat with her friends on a quilted blanket.

“I like it here ‘cause there’s just young people and no hippies,” she said while adjusting her oversized trousers. “I was thinking about going to Woodstock, but I went to a (Grateful) Dead show recently and knew Woodstock would be just as big of a commercial farce. ‘Lollapalooza’ is commercial too, but it doesn’t pretend to be something else. This is for my generation, my peers.”

“Lollapalooza,” now in its fourth year, is the baby of eccentric and edgy artist-musician Perry Farrell. He spent his teens and 20s in the more experimental side of punk rock with the bands Psi-Com and Jane’s Addiction. His idea now with “Lollapalooza” is to offer all sorts of different sounds from today, and some seminal contributors from the past. It’s a chance for young people to get together, without the influence of adults, and formulate their own thoughts, or maybe just have fun--their own way.

The ongoing revival of the ‘60s may be clad in bell-bottoms and good intentions, but in 1994 it’s ultimately the antithesis of the original radical spirit.

Isn’t it time for the dazed and confused ‘70s generation to rise up and brag about what a great group KC & the Sunshine Band was or preach how the introduction of sparkling rayon was a revolution for dance floors everywhere?

What’s gonna happen if someday I want to brag about the hard-core punk scene from the mid-’80s? Will there be room, or will the greatness of the Beatles, or the wonderful mindset of the Woodstock Generation forever overshadow it?

Let the ‘60s grow old gracefully and move over. There’s a backup of generations waiting to get by.