Living Tribute : Hootenanny Erects a Monument to Roots Rock at the Intersection of Country and Urban

Lollapalooza embraced all shades of new music under one enormous big top, but the fourth Hootenanny was a two-day, boot-stompin’ festival focusing on all things twang.

On Sunday’s second-day performance--in which country luminary Buck Owens joined a bill topped by X, the Cramps and Social Distortion--things got weird and unwieldy as the festival shifted quickly from rockabilly to rootsy punk, from vintage country to ska-tinted swing.

Consider, for example, that the standout sets were polar opposites: Owens’ stately traditional country and the trash-punk urban howl of the Cramps.

The crowd that gathered in the oak-lined grotto of Oak Canyon Ranch in Santiago Canyon didn’t seem to mind the bizarre mix. Imagine a typical, amply pierced Lollapalooza throng dipped in the ‘40s and ‘50s. Next to every green Mohawk and tongue-stud it seemed was an exaggerated ‘40s up-’do and a shoulder displaying a tattoo of a dagger piercing a martini glass.

The music, presented smoothly and succinctly on a split stage that quickly switched from one side to another, nearly outdid the colorful audience, this despite the fact that many of the groups on the bill have been plugging away for nearly two decades, some even longer.

Most in the audience of about 5,000 may have come for Social Distortion, the Cramps and X, but judging from the performers’ between-song comments, the most anticipated performer for the Hootenanny musicians was guitarist, singer and songwriter Owens.

He officially retired from touring in 1992 but still plays in his adopted hometown of Bakersfield, and his classic, gritty style has touched such modern singers as Dwight Yoakam.

Owens walked onstage casually with his five-piece Buckaroos band and his signature red, white and blue guitar slung around his neck and dug into a highly professional set that focused on real-life stories about heartbreak and high hopes.

Fleshed-out with a female back-up singer and the occasional steel-guitar accompaniment, the set peaked with two songs, the unforgettable “Act Naturally” and “Love’s Gonna Live Here Again.” During the latter, Owens nimbly reeled off a baroque guitar solo that underscored the fact that this 68-year-old still has talent to spare.

In the oddest concert pairing in recent memory, Owens’ set was followed by the bizarre trash-punk explosion of the Cramps, a band that has always made up for in onstage pyrotechnics what it lacked in musical ambition.

Looking like the offspring of Iggy Pop and Vampira, Cramps singer Lux Interior took the stage under a hot midday sun in a glittery black cat suit topped by a black velvet three-quarter-length coat.

“I’ve never been out in the daytime before,” Interior told the crowd, looking convincingly pale-faced and seeming on the verge of melting. “What’s that strange light in the sky?”

Rifling through its own distant past, the first-generation punk band blended songs about junk television and ‘50s horror flicks with its strange, reverb-drenched sound, a mix of hillbilly howls, CBGB-style punk rock and surf music.

But the real attraction was Interior’s antics. During a rendition of the Count Five’s psychedelic garage classic “Psychotic Reaction,” the singer, by then clad only in his cat suit, climbed atop speakers stacked onstage and ripped his outfit into tatters (exposing some of his nether parts). The primal, cathartic rock moment was hard to beat.

The Reverend Horton Heat knew that, and the singer lamented aloud that he and his band were forced to follow two back-to-back, hands-down highs.

The Reverend plugged through a no-nonsense set of rockabilly punk that gave way to O.C.’s rootsy hard-core punk band Social Distortion.

Unfortunately, both seemed deathly bland in comparison to Owens’ sturdy, textured artistry and the Cramps’ nihilistic antics.

The day’s final group was X, the L.A. punk band that never tried to hide its country roots. Recently reunited with Chuck Berry-styled original guitarist Billy Zoom, the outfit at first sounded tighter than ever, and lead singer Exene Cervenkova looked resplendent in magenta hair and a tiara.

But it quickly fell apart musically. From “Los Angeles” to “Nausea,” “The World’s a Mess; It’s in My Kiss” to “White Girl,” X’s songs still resonate. Live, however, they’re beginning to feel nostalgic, as if part of a punk-oldies revue.

In fact, the whole Hootenanny--with its classic-car show, its roving packs of car-club guys, its retro fashions--could have felt like a musty blast from the past.

Thankfully, with the talent provided by Owens and the rock ‘n’ roll threat from the Cramps, this festival felt relatively immediate--a low-key, heartfelt celebration of classic country and all its twisted offshoots.