Lyman, 48, answers it all without the gaudy
veneer of PR speak. He speaks pointedly and
swiftly, but his responses are fair-minded
and he doesn’t dodge questions. He’s also
willing to address money, which is refreshing
(“If we had no sponsors, kids would have had
to pay $50 to come to that show”). No matter
how the project evolves each summer, Lyman
can provide some fatherly rationality.
Fifteen minutes after our conversation,
I received a call from a friend who
relayed news of allegations leveled at
Millionaires (above right)—a tarted-up electronic pop
trio who sing about cash, sex, and booze with
the vocal delivery of playground taunts—that they had been caught lip-syncing (by
one of the other bands, no less). The allegations
provide ammo to Warped’s detractors,
as Millionaires have since remained
on the circuit. As much of a fixture Lyman’s
goodwill provides, the hydra-headed tour
increasingly shifts away from its original,
no-frills form.
Originally started as the punk answer
to expansive indie/alt-rock exposition
Lollapalooza, Perry Farrell’s tour soared,
burned out, and was reborn while Warped
has thrived all along.
“They [Lollapalooza organizers] were
having a harder time trying to find those
acts that could live up to the size of show
that they were trying to do,” Lyman says.
“They got to this point where their audience
was aging with the tour and all of a sudden,
people don’t want to go to festivals. Warped
Tour is constantly feeding itself with young
kids coming for the first time.”
As the listening palette of said kids has changed over the decade-plus, Warped has kept up. (It could also be argued that Warped plays an influential role in shaping these tastes.) In dimly demarcated terms, the festival’s spotlight has shifted from skate-punk and ska to pop-punk and altrock to emo to screamo to 2009’s electronica/ screamo/crunk mutation. The sum contains some combination of all the aforementioned styles (plus hip-hop, hardcore, and country). Over the nine hours that Warped will run at the Fairpark this year, 60-something bands will perform.
For most young and new attendees,
Warped is a spectacular scape of constant
music, merch, madness and minors. If
you like even a handful of the bands, it’s
a thrilling place to be: As the sets are so
short (30 to 40 minutes this year), it’s
easy to catch a highlight reel of someone
you might recognize just a single song
from; the live equivalent to a sprawling
compilation in which the showgoer
can pick among hundreds of tracks. This
approach also benefits performers whose
reputations aren’t yet cemented. “Back
in ’95, there were so many people trying
to get that little bit of club money. This
puts you in front of 13,000 people,” says
Lyman. “Right now, you see Dance Gavin
Dance, arguably one of the smaller bands,
but they got to play for almost a thousand
people today. I don’t know how many people
would pay to see them in a club [if they
came to a new market]. It’s hard to develop
artists and meet people. Warped gives you
that opportunity.”
On the flipside, the older guard—Bad
Religion, Flogging Molly, NOFX, Bouncing
Souls—caters to seasoned and punk-thirsty
audiences but subliminally keeps the critics
(many of them old Warped attendees)
around. Cynics use these long-established
names to cling to a glimmer of nostalgia
and hope that if they bitch loud and long
enough—the Tour keeps lip-syncers on, for
God’s sake!—that the focus will magically
shrink in a return to the old days of small
line-ups and feistier sounds.
But, it won’t go back. Warped Tour has
changed and will constantly be changing.
For the detractors who can’t let the past go,
Lyman’s response is blunt and succinct:
“Don’t come.”
WARPED TOUR
Utah State Fairpark
155 N. 1000 West
Saturday, Aug. 8
11 a.m.
SmithsTix.com