Before you get to this point, however, there is a long way to go. Two-hundred-dollar tickets must be bought, driving must be arranged and poverty must be staved off.
After a stop in New York to pick up tickets scrounged up on Craigslist, the drive from Dartmouth to Manchester, Tenn. can take as long as 22 hours. Each year since 2002, Bonnaroo has miraculously produced the second or third largest city in Tennessee for the three days when 80,000 to 100,000 festival-goers descend upon an 800-acre farm outside the city of Manchester.
In addition to Phil Lesh and Friends, Oysterhead and other such heady acts, this year's bill included some darlings of the indie-rock scene, including Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, Bright Eyes, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and Death Cab for Cutie. The church of hip-hop rode into town, bringing Blackalicious, Lyrics Born, Common, Atmosphere and The Streets.
The festival was arranged over nine different stages and tents, each with an act playing at all times from around noon until three or five in the morning. Thus, more than 50 bands were able to play over the course of three days. The logistics of getting to and from all these shows was a dizzying prospect, especially considering that 79,999 other people were trying to juggle the same schedule. Imagine the excitement and potential frustration of knowing that Common, Lyrics Born, Blackalicious, My Morning Jacket, Umphrey's McGee and The Disco Biscuits are all playing within the same block of time.
The only time when scheduling conflicts were of no concern was during the performances of the headlining acts. Tom Petty, Radiohead and Phil Lesh and Friends each received a night of the festival during which those acts enjoyed the entire Bonnaroo crowd's undivided attention. Some fans showed up 10 hours in advance to stake out the front row, and completely lost it when they started playing. Radiohead's stage presence is otherworldly; they barely say a word outside of their songs, and they don't have to. I swear that lead singer Thom Yorke is an alien. Just look at him. There is no other explanation for how he can do what he does so well.
The other nights' headliners were blockbusters as well, with Tom Petty bringing out scores of special guests, and Phil Lesh and Friends playing right through the weekend's only rainstorm to thousands of soaked fans.
Thanks to Bonnaroo's newfound musical variety, I could see nearly as many black square-rimmed glasses as dreadlocks while walking around the campsites and concerts. This dichotomy was, at worst, a source of entertainment for artists and festival-goers. After inviting fans to zone out during a new song that they wouldn't know, Radiohead's Yorke added, "But then, this is Bonnaroo, you're already zoned out, aren't you?" Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst admitted to the crowd that he hadn't been terribly optimistic coming into such a hippie-fest, but ended up playing so long he exhausted his set list and then some. Perhaps most stirring was the infamously dark Atmosphere, caught off-guard at the crowd's reaction, saying, "I just want to make music that makes you smile, that makes you happy... but you guys want to hear the pissed off sh*t, huh?"
Despite Atmosphere's proclamations of sunshine and good will, his was the only show at which I saw middle fingers (of artist and audience) raised in the air. The weekend through, I saw hipsters dancing like fools at jam shows, hippies coming out of their haze to enjoy a rock show and every last person putting their hands in the air at an MC's behest. Eighty thousand people cared more about hearing good live music -- and not getting sunburned -- than anything else in the world. A weekend where the blue skies and 95-degree temperatures were the biggest worry -- life is so hard. But that's Bonnaroo.
