Its over, PopWatchers: All four days of Bonnaroo have come and gone.
And for some reason, I keep getting a little emotional.
addCredit(Jack White: CityFiles/WireImage.com)
Sunday blew by in a haze, PopWatchers.
It was the hottest day by far, and in many ways the most hectic.
My professionalism, at least externally, held firm.
Inside, I was leaping about like a crazy person.
Im so gladI did.
(Say what you will about Wolfmoths derivative tendencies; that Stockdale boys got a voice on im.)
And then they saw the performers on stage.
They saw a Greek-American boy sweating like his heritage.
Im not a real sweater.
I dont sweat that much.
But I was wilting pretty badly.
And then they saw performers who had a little bit of trouble connecting with the audience.
I felt like I was making announcements nobody wanted to hear.
If you end up there, maybe you have fun or recharge, but its just hard.
I always say the best rooms for comedy are the rooms that would be worst in a fire.
That tentpeople could have just run out.
Theres a lot of exits.
An hour and a half of mainly old stuff, with no marimba to be found.
The opening block I mentioned above coursing into Hotel Yorba, then the eerie minor-keyed opening of Jolene.
It was, to put it plainly, spellbinding.
So I cant say enough thats good about this show, but maybe less is more.
Every arm in the field that had just been punching the air was stilled.
Every mouth was closed.
Youre all friends now, right?
Behind the masses, over the trees, the sun had at last hit the horizon.
That was when I realized this whole thing was ending.
How lucky we all were.
It is, truly, Americas best music festival.
I want to write a list of my personal highlights (#7: Newborn babies.
), though I dont know if people care.
