311, CYPRESS HILL
At 31, I’m the target demographic here — after all, 311 and Cypress Hill were a major source of weed-smoking music for ’90s teens (not that I’d know anything about that). Thing is, many of the red-eyed kids who once blasted this stuff have kids of their own now — or worse, jobs that drug test — which could make things a bit awkward during Cypress Hill’s ganja jams. And 311’s nü-funk may not be all that interesting without a head full of haze. So, while bills like this quite evidently aim to recapture the feel of roving ’90s fests like Lollapalooza, they lack one essential variable — an incredibly stoned audience.