Bonnaroo, Day 2: Friday

After about four hours of sleep Thursday night, we were awakened by the noise of the neighbors and the heat of the morning sun. We managed to conserve energy by spending most of the morning at the campsite, but we did make a brief excursion into Centeroo to hunt for the not-yet-arrived Pearl Jam collectible concert posters. After a return to camp to eat a quick snack, we headed back into a ridiculous pedestrian gridlock at the Centeroo gates caused by too-slow security checks, until eventually the main gate guards either gave up or were overrun, and the crowd poured in unabated.

Due to this delay, we only caught the second half of the Jose Gonzalez set at This Tent which was well attended for so early in the day, before heading over to see British soul singer Adele (think Amy Winehouse without the crack habit). (Jokers Note: This is the set for the ladies. We did not see a female in the auidence that was not digging Adele's set. Being the domesticated animal that I am, I have to admit that I was too. You may take my man card at any time.) We caught a very few minutes of Tegan and Sara (sisters? lovers? who knows?), then made our first foray into the What Stage field to get an idea of the layout/crowd situation.

Stephen Marley was playing, sticking mostly to his father's greatest hits, and the crowd seemed enthusiastic--though out in the back portion of the enormous pasture, we were surrounded more by frisbee tossers than hardcore music fans. It was at this point that we realized we'd left camp without ponchos, so we made a worthwhile executive decision to walk back out and get them before the Raconteurs show at 5:00.

When we returned, we made our way down the left side of the field (due to the entrances all being on the right side, the left was the best bet for closing in on the main stage) and set up in a good spot to see the Raconteurs. They did not disappoint; Jack White is a maniac on guitar, and his stage-wallowing freakout during "Blue Veins" was reason enough to see the show. It was at this point that Joker and I coined the weekend's catchphrase, "That better be on the DVD." It became a game the rest of the weekend to guess which songs or wacky moments would be used as each artist's primary highlight when the eventual Bonnaroo 2008 DVD ships in December.

After an energetic encore finished with "Carolina Drama," Jack White put in a pitch for the stage's next show--the Chris Rock stand-up comedy performance more than an hour away--and we took advantage of the long break to get some dinner, this time at a Chinese-food booth, and catch a few minutes of Rilo Kiley from outside This Tent (sadly, no close-up views of super-cute Jenny Lewis).

For the Chris Rock and Metallica shows at the What Stage, we didn't prioritize close field position; we were happy to sit back, just inside the secondary PA speakers, and watch the show on the jumbo screens. (A word about the jumbo screens: the camerawork and shot selection used for them was excellent, as assured as a final DVD product would be. I can only assume this feed is what is going into the DVDs, and I could not be happier about that. If the footage from the smaller stages that had no screens even comes close to the What Stage footage, we'll have a great product on our hands come December. Bravo, Bonnaroo!)

Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett of Metallica appeared to introduce Rock, whose hour-long comedy set hit all the right notes and kept the enormous audience (likely around 60,000) in stitches throughout. Even a steady drizzle that lasted the entire hour couldn't kill the mood. Rock covered topics from the presidential race to race and gender relations, and even gave us white folks a lesson as to the one time it's okay to utter the "n-word:" Late Christmas Eve, when you're shopping last-minute for that toy your child simply must have, and a black man knocks you out to steal the toy...then you can say it without fear of retribution. But only then. Use this knowledge wisely, White America.

After a break of about twenty minutes--and a notable shrinkage in crowd size, though tens of thousands still remained--Metallica took the stage and proceeded to put on a two-hour show that rocked the socks off all in attendance. Early in the set, James Hetfield asked the audience for a show of hands as to who was attending their first Metallica concert; most hands in the place went up, and the band knew how hard they needed to work. I'm kind of biased, as I like Metallica and had seen them before, but I think they won over the bulk of the crowd with a set heavy on old classics (the only song of more recent vintage than 1991 was "The Memory Remains"), fiery fretwork, strong personality, and a fantastic light/pyrotechnic show that culminated in the intro to "One." Eventually, high-flying rockets were launched from both sides of the massive What Stage:

At the end of the set, Metallica stuck around on stage for several minutes, apparently accepting well-wishes from the loyal crowd, tossing out guitar picks, posing for photos, etc. Truth be told, for a band who seem so surly when singing about "Creeping Death" and the evil Sandman, they're quite a jovial bunch of fan-friendly fellows (and no, I'm not touching the file-sharing issue, which is totally separate).

From What to Which: We made our way to the festival's second stage, as the rain began anew, to see what we could of My Morning Jacket's epic four-hour late-night set. The band was scheduled to play from midnight to three a.m., but wound up going until four o'clock (after allowing for a brief intermission) in increasingly intense rain. We moved on after about forty minutes to find out the contents of this year's "Superjam," a collaboration in The Other Tent that started a half-hour late, and turned out to match internet rumors featuring Les Claypool and the members of Gogol Bordello, but as we headed back to camp we were able to hear MMJ's "One Big Holiday," which featured Metallica's Hammett on guitar. Later, from our campsite, we could hear the excellent selection of soul and funk covers My Morning Jacket was putting on, culminating in Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street." Eventually, we fell asleep despite ourselves.

We were awakened by noise in the camp area, only to find ourselves each in need of a quick wee-hours pee. While we were up, we encountered our middle-aged neighbor, stumbling out of his flooded tent to proclaim, "I'm drunker than shit!," and heard what appeared to be the opening strains of Motley Crue's "Home Sweet Home." Yes, this was how Louisville's own My Morning Jacket (who, at one point asked the 502 and 615 area codes--Louisville and Nashville, respectively--to "represent") finished what will likely go down in history as their greatest performance ever. To be honest, while the smart play for Joker and me was to get as much rest as possible in anticipation of a long, Pearl Jam-oriented Saturday, the closest thing I have to a regret is not sticking around to see that entire show.

Ahead on Day 3: Joker earns some good Karma, an octogenarian teaches a huge crowd what star power really is, Kanye West earns our ire, and we spend all day baking in the sun to experience the best concert we've ever seen.