Ol' Dirty Bastard passed away four months after the Wu-Tang's 2004 appearance at the inaugural event and I don't think much thought was placed into what emotional conflict it might cause the group. Following Saturday night's hologram of Eazy-E with Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, which was mostly successful despite it being a bit too dark, Ol' Dirty Bastard's synthetic persona was lucky to have actually an act that didn't need a hologram to be noteworthy. But the hologram's appearance was botched when a technical malfunction caused Wu-Tang's DJ to lose sound 25 minutes into their set. Method Man took control of the situation, offering up freestyles that pointed out his narrow range in that department, as he admitted he wasn't good at freestyling. Had Ghostface Killah or Raekwon actually attended the show, they would have been ideal for passing this time, but no one stepped up to assist Meth, and he grew increasingly more agitated with the lack of a backing track, threatening to walk off stage "hologram or not."

When the beat did return at the wrong tempo, Method Man lost his cool, calling out the festival founder Chang Weisberg by name until RZA attempted to diffuse the situation by skipping whatever performance was planned and heading straight into the hologram section. The remaining set saw the ODB hologram interact with his son and rap some of his most famous bars, including "Shimmy Shimmy Ya," and strangely the night's planned show-stopping moment had become its failed saving grace. It tried to rescue rappers when the next backing track went sour again, but the audience followed Method Man's lead and left the stage area, as more than half of the onlookers made their way to their cars or over to Girl Talk's virtually abandoned mashing of confetti, strobes, pop hits, and exuberance.

RZA made it a point to divert blame away from the Rock the Bells founder, not surprising due to the long-term relationship that has been cultivated between both camps. But, the Wu-Tang set was just a more visible manifestation of the oversights, misjudgments, and often ineptitude within the Rock the Bells (Gorilla Union) organization that do not improve after ten years of practice.

Everywhere on the grounds of the San Manuel Amphitheater, poor planning and discomfort overshadowed the one thing Rock the Bells consistently does well: music. The event pushed the VIP experience with such gusto that non-VIP felt like being a peasant, with VIP meaning just a reasonable festival experience that everyone should expect at a concert. Temperatures reached over 100 degrees, while the event took that opportunity to sell single small bottles of water for $4.50. Lines of people waited to be let into the venues standing room floor or the general admission seating areas but spent significant amounts of time herded into pens like cattle. And Rock the Bells staff showed little concern when approached with hazardous conditions, like CDs being launched from the venues expansive lawn into the crowd below.

But despite the fact that many vow never again to come back, there isn't really a better rap festival to steal business away from Rock the Bells. Many of Los Angeles' and Orange County's premiere music writers and photographers don't even bother trying to work at Gorilla Union events. And, it's a shame, because they were forced to miss a continually impressive J. Cole on Sunday night, employing a full-band to deliver a pop-indebted, lyrically dense hour of music that concluded with Cole getting as close as possible to his fans, trying to shake hands with and acknowledge as many as he could while production members literally pulled him off the stage. What may be a typical gesture for Cole in concert rang sincere, and he left as one of the event's heroes.