POP MUSIC REVIEW : A Really Hot Ticket : Fans, 99 Bands Sweat It Out at ‘Independent’s Day ‘95’ Rock Festival

As numbers go, 99 has earned at least a little bit of musical distinction.

Ninety-nine is how many Luftballoons went aloft in the 1984 hit by German chanteuse Nena. For Wilson Pickett, 99 1/2 wouldn’t do.

And with Saturday’s “Independent’s Day ‘95” festival at Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre, 99 now goes down, in a footnote to Southern California rock history, as the crazily quixotic number of little-known, grass-roots bands that two young Orange County promoters packed into a single day’s entertainment, hoping to make a mark by doing something attention-grabbing that hadn’t been done before.

As the very long, very hot day ended, Jaime Munoz and Bill Hardie sounded as if they had just finished tilting at a particularly unforgiving windmill.

Through much of the afternoon, it had felt as if 99 was the temperature. Munoz, who reported losing $8,000 on the inaugural Independent’s Day last October (which featured a mere 75 bands), partly blamed the heat for keeping paid attendance to about 2,300 this year--about half what he had hoped to draw. Furthermore, Munoz said, the heat had wrought “huge problems” on the production end, leading to numerous sound system failures.

“This is the ‘Waterworld’ of concerts, and I’m Kevin Costner,” said Hardie. “I’m glad I did it. I would never do it again.”

Perhaps the defining image of “Independent’s Day” was that of Spike Xavier of the punk band Humble Gods, passed out flat on his face on stage. Xavier collapsed moments after the band’s lively, humorously rebellious set. Xavier eventually came to and walked away under his own power, saying he had made the mistake of not getting anything to drink all day.

For concert-goers, the heat compounded the festival’s already-considerable strategic challenge: how to go about observing an event with 10 stages, half of which were in use at any given moment.

Some, like Monica Prado and Chuck Gray, a couple in their early 20s from Mission Viejo, took the cafeteria (or was it singles’ bar?) approach: “I like walking around,” Prado said. “This way, if you don’t like somebody, go walk around and find somebody else.”

Others came with a well-defined idea about the musical menu they aimed to sample.

“We want to see some fast ska bands and punk bands our age,” said Kevin Day, who had come from Mission Viejo with his buddy J. C. Timmons. The two teen-agers no doubt found a lot to like at “Independent’s Day.” Like last year’s event, it was heavily skewed toward punk, the staple product of the Orange County rock scene, with an ample helping of punk-influenced ska bands tossed in. The Southern California music scene is more varied than that, and, with 99 slots open, more variety should have been available.

Still, there were delicacies on tap, chief among them Joyride and One Hit Wonder, which represent the cream of the Orange County-Long Beach grass-roots scene with their blend of punk brawn, pop buoyancy and intelligent, emotionally vivid songwriting coupled with a too-rare sense of fun.

A reviewer’s search for new pleasures hit pay dirt with Yakoo. The La Crescenta trio plays poppy punk-rock that has the drive and lift-off of the old Adolescents and the catchiness of Green Day.

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The kicker is that the bassist, Max Collins, and the guitarist, John Siebels, just finished the 10th grade. The kids look like choirboys, especially Siebels, a cherubic little fellow, but, at 16 and 15, they play with the confidence and aplomb of seasoned veterans. Drummer Nick Meyers is the graybeard at 19.

Also impressive was the old-line punk band 7 Seconds, which has been going since 1979. It showed its savvy in a varied set. The day’s award for grit went to its only all-female act, 4-Gasm. Playing at the peak of the afternoon heat, the Huntington Beach/Long Beach quartet didn’t wilt as it churned out tough, punky garage rock akin to L7. “If I faint, it’s part of the show,” joked lead singer Pamela.

Toward the end of a day of overwhelming heat and almost omnipresent punk, Supernovice’s set at dusk was like a dip into a cool, eddying stream. The Orange County band played well-wrought, ‘80-style college-rock, recalling the more structured, pop side of Pavement or Sebadoh.

As Irvine Meadows, Orange County’s temple to mass-market rock, closed shop on what may be its last experiment with unsung local bands, the buoyant and goofy punk-pop band Supernova carried on in the dark after the sound had been switched off, relying on its pogoing, playfully slamming fans to shout along to complete the last number. It was a wonderfully Independent way to go.