ROME, N.Y. -- In 1969, one of Woodstock's memorable moments was the tortured scream of Jimi Hendrix's guitar as it incinerated "The Star Spangled Banner." In 1999, it was the sound of silence, as the P.A. system cut out just as Limp Bizkit started to play its current single, "Nookie."

Up till that point Saturday, Limp Bizkit singer Fred Durst was doing his best to take the crowd's energy -- a heady cocktail of pent-up fervor, rock show-anticipation, and chemically fueled craziness -- and channel it to a single moment of release.

Once the power came back, some of the musical momentum was restored but the group's set ended up seeming thwarted. Limp Bizkit wanted to take Woodstock to the edge, and Woodstock wasn't going.

That was typical of Woodstock '99, which ended yesterday at Griffiss Park in upstate New York. The festival was, by most standards, a roaring success, bringing an estimated 225,000 people together for three days with no major problems (although a 44-year old man from Massachusetts succumbed to cardiac arrest early Friday).

Still, despite a star-studded bill featuring acts ranging from Willie Nelson to Metallica, from DMX to Jewel, from James Brown to Fatboy Slim, the performances offered little in the way of revelation. For the most part, Woodstock '99 was about entertainment -- safe, predictable, crowd-pleasing rock and roll.

Crowd's fault

Limp Bizkit's sound of silence was, to a certain degree, the crowd's own fault. When the power went out, the group had been playing to the largest and most volatile audience the three-day festival had seen. Singer Durst had been doing his best to get the crowd pumped. During the song "Get Up," he coaxed more than 100,000 listeners to bounce, fists in the air, to the refain. Then he exhorted the audience to expel its negative energy during the final chorus of "Break Stuff."

Unfortunately, a few fans decided to take the tune's title literally, and tore some plywood panels from a sound and lights tower. The wood was protecting transformers for the concert area's power grid and, rather than risk exposing the crowd to the possibility of electrical shock, the sound crew turned the transformer off, temporarily taking the P.A. with it.

Limp Bizkit's set was the first event in what many fans viewed as the Saturday trifecta -- a three-band crawl from the Bizkit through Rage Against the Machine to Metallica. All three are loud, aggressive, hard rocking bands guaranteed to get a crowd going. Yet the combination never quite lived up to its potential.

On the plus side, Rage Against the Machine was magnificent, playing with such power and confidence that even a slight shift in the band's dynamics sent ripples of reaction through the crowd. Even though the rock/rap quartet stuck close to its best-known material -- politically charged numbers like "People of the Sun," "Viet Now" and "Bulls on Parade" -- it brought fresh energy and ideas to the arrangements, thanks in large part to Tom Morrello's otherworldly arsenal of guitar sounds.

Best of all, Rage carefully built on the muscular momentum of the rhythm section to generate a deep, visceral groove. It served almost as a form of physical persuasion, drawing the audience in so completely that, by the end of the set, the crowd reacted almost as a single organism. It was by far the weekend's musical high point.

Despite having the plug pulled, Bizkit's playing was first-rate throughout, and its much-delayed rendition of "Nookie" was lean, funky and compelling.

Metallica got a wild response, playing three encores and still leaving the crowd screaming for more. Even so, the band's playing was surprisingly uneven. Some songs, like the set-opening "So What?" and "Master of Puppets," were delivered with awesome ferocity and precision, others detoured into self-indulgent vamps and stagnant riffing.

So why did the crowd go wild? Mainly because Metallica's set stuck so close to familiar turf. The fans at Woodstock '99 may have been adventurous when it came to attire or personal behavior, but they were pretty conservative when it came to unfamiliar music.

Being polite

Many worthy bands were greeted with polite response at best. Saturday morning, Tragically Hip -- one of the most popular live acts in Canada -- failed to get Americans in the audience excited, despite having given a memorably dramatic and poetic performance. Still, at least the Hip had an audience, which was more than could be said for risk-taking roots rockers Los Lobos, which played to a small-but-appreciative crowd at the West Stage while alt-rock diva Alanis Morissette entertained a much larger crowd at the East Stage.

Still, Woodstock '99 had some surprises. Kid Rock opened his set early Saturday with "Bawitaba," and then proceeded to outdo that hit with the rest of his rap-meets-rock set. Besides having a first-rate backing band in Twisted Brown Trucker, Rock has an exceptionally broad musical range, and moved easily from the crunchy, metal-plated rap of "I Am the Bullgod" to a cover of the straight-up rock of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Fortunate Son."

A surprise of a different sort came with the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Sunday night set, when bassist Flea hit the stage buck naked. The Chili Peppers' contribution to "Nudestock" was not the most exceptional aspect of the band's performance, however. The interplay between Flea, guitarist John Frusciante and singer Anthony Kiedis was exceptional throughout.

Caught its breath

Bush looked a little shaky early on in its Friday night set, when singer Gavin Rossdale seemed barely able to carry the tune of "Machine Head," but soared later with a searing run through of "Everything Zen" and an understated and affecting rendition of "Swallow." But the most delightful surprise in this group's set was its tart remake of R.E.M.'s "The One I Love."

The Woodstock acts ranged wildly in size. James Brown opened the festival on Friday with the help of two dancers, five back-up singers, a 16-piece band, and an MC. By contrast, Elvis Costello's set on Sunday found the veteran new waver accompanied only by keyboardist Steve Nieve. Yet as unlikely as it looked to see two men trying to entertain a sea of sunburned rock fans, they rose effortlessly to the task, investing ballads like "Allison" with tender beauty while charging hard through the rockabilly cadences of "Mystery Dance."

There were perhaps only two serious musical downsides of Woodstock '99.

For one, nobody could possibly have heard all of it. Not only were there two or three acts playing at the same time every afternoon, the two main stages were set a mile and a half apart. Fans had to pick and choose, and hope their legs held out.

And for another, it was much easier to move 100,000 or more fans when the music is aggressively physical, like Rage Against the Machine's. That worked against both the crisp professionalism of Sheryl Crow and the cerebral musicality of Bruce Hornsby. It wasn't that either act played poorly, just that their music wasn't suited to the scale and mood of an event like Woodstock '99.