When I mentioned I wanted to help cover the Tibetan Freedom Concert for Addicted to Noise, I had no idea what I was getting into.

I'm not talking about the time I spent parking or making my way to Golden Gate Park's polo fields, or the foggy weather with air so cold I could see my breath when I exhaled. I admit, I didn't know much about the situation in Tibet until a few days ago, and as I trekked through the park, the voice of Yoko Ono leading me to the stadium, I began thinking about the genocide I'd heard about and the performances I was about to take in.

I missed all of Buddy Guy's set, and barely heard that of Yoko Ono and IMA, Ono's son Sean's band. As I approached the arena Sonic Youth was bringing on the noise, but they were nearly finished by the time I got to the stages. The field was enormous, and was barely one-third filled; later, it would be packed to the gills with music fans and Tibetan sympathizers. From what I heard, Sonic Youth's set was great; noisy, dirty and full of spunk.

Suddenly Beck appeared on the "blue stage" (the one decorated with blue clouds; the other stage, just to the left of it, was decorated with red flames). Today he didn't even have the requisite two- turntables-and-a-microphone; he just has his guitar, his harmonica and a mic. "My drummer's on his honeymoon," Beck explained before delivering a folky, down-to-earth set including songs like "Pay No Mind," "Alcohol," and "Hollow Log." He fiddled with his drum track between songs, continually abandoning it with the excuse "I don't think we need to get into that just yet."

Already I was wondering about the sentiments of the audience; as loud rap music wafted through the field during Beck's set, the two guys behind me shouted, "turn off that nigger music!" Disgusted, I moved over to the press tent to catch the next band.

De La Soul followed Beck with an upbeat hip-hop show that got the audience's blood moving. It was a good thing, too; the wind was beginning to pick up. They performed an updated and extended version of "Me, Myself and I" with references to Tibetan freedom. In fact, many of the artists crafted set lists which spoke to issues of freedom and politics. The Skatalites played next, their horn-warmed ska sound inspiring the crowd to dance. Though their tribute was to Nelson Mandela and not Tibet, their point was well-taken.

Between sets, guest speakers took the stage; a Chinese activist talked about his place in the Tiannanmen Square revolt and a Tibetan monk described the torture of the Tibetans by the Chinese. Although much of the audience used these breaks as an opportunity to migrate from one stage to the other, some actually paid attention to the speeches. Concert organizers had erected a huge replica of a Tibetan monastery in the back of the arena, but the booths encouraging the boycott of Chinese goods -- as a means of strangling the power out of Chinese authorities -- saw little traffic. And I found it ironic that the MTV scaffold was closer to the stage than the paper stupa -- a variety of temple -- was.

Next came Bjork, with all her fiery energy and charm. "Hallo!" she called out cheerfully before launching into "Army of Me." The petite songstress bounced around onstage like a human wind-up doll in her sleeveless white dress, delivering mighty versions of "Human Behaviour" and "Hyper-ballad." "Enjoy" began off as a slow grind, and "Violently Happy" was almost unrecognizable at its start with organ- like tones backing Bjork's slithery vocal. But the drumbeat joined her soon enough, speeding the song into a frenzy.

The Fugees came to the stage after Bjork, starting with traditional rap and hip-hop, then playing a quick medley of songs including "California Love" and "Another one Bites the Dust." Singer Lauryn Hills' beautiful voice rose above the crowd in songs like "Fu- Gee-La" and "Killing Me Softly" as I picked my way to a spot for Rage Against the Machine.

Big mistake. The instant this "by-any-means-necessary" outfit hit the stage I found myself on the edge of a rapidly-developing mosh pit. I quickly retreated before I lost any shoes (or limbs) to the excited crowd. Droning guitars and angry lyrics swirled around me as I hunted for a place to sit and safely watch, which turned out to be the press tent. Rage Against the Machine produced stunning versions of "Bulls on Parade," "Bullet In Your Head," and "Killing in the Name," and I watched as the first stretcher rolled past, trampled concertgoer in tow. Zack de la Rocha screamed "freedom!" again and again, as if he might save the monks with the sheer intensity of his voice.

Finally the Red Hot Chili Peppers arrived. The first thing out of Flea's mouth was an ecstatic, silk-ripping scream, and then the band took to "Power of Equality." I hoped the Peppers would delve into some of their earlier -- and more political -- music, but instead they stuck mainly to hits from "BloodSugarSexMagik" and new tracks from "One Hot Minute." Their performance was powerful nonetheless, and even fans at the other end of the polo field were pogoing in time with the music. "Give It Away" featured a gorgeously textured solo from guitarist Dave Navarro.

Before the Tibetan monks closed the concert with their Buddhist blessing, a speaker reminded the crowd about the importance of action. "Anger can be productive," he explained, "but remember that violence only breeds more violence." These monks are a very gentle, compassionate group, and it seems ludicrous that they should be tortured for their religious beliefs. As the throngs moved quickly from the polo field, the Tibetan group voiced their eerie sub-bass chant, blessing the thousands of people who had come to enjoy a day of music and who will, hopefully, fight for the freedom of others as heartily as they enjoy their own.

This article was originally published in Addicted to Noise.