Published at 11:37 PM on June 13, 2008

By Rachael Maddux

Bonnaroo 2008: Day 2

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Hello again from Manchester’s Country Inn & Suites, where a bunch of us have temporarily retired from Bonnaroo to escape the drizzle—and Metallica.

We just ate probably the best meal from Wendy’s that anyone could possibly eat, and now there’s some heavy napping going on in preparation for (our July cover subject) My Morning Jacket’s 12 AM set. I’ve seen them once before, at their tropical-themed set during last fall’s Austin City Limits Festival, which involved pineapple-wielding backup dancers and zinc oxide and swimmies—and a lot of sunlight. I’ve got a feeling tonight’s post-sunset start-time will feel a bit more appropriate, and hopefully the rain holds off so we’re not pining for our midnight raincoats.

Today I tried not to stay in one place for too long—not to let the dust settle on my feet, as it were, even though that’s kind of a ridiculous goal because dust settles on every single thing at Bonnaroo. I think there is dust in my spleen, for instance. But metaphorically, at least, my goal was achieved.

Adele over at The Other Tent was a bit of a shot in the dark. I’d heard good things about her but found most of her songs inexplicably boring, like Amy Winehouse without the sass or spark. With Mark Ronson involved in her debut album, I couldn’t separate his obvious production touches from her own musical merits, and I wasn’t sold on her voice—until today. Adele can sing, really and truly actually sing, and she absolutely is not a show-off about it. She just opens her mouth and this huge voice leaps out and she stands there and looks totally cool with it all. And I like that. I’ll have to listen again, but I’ve got the feeling her album doesn’t do her justice.

I left right before she covered Dylan, and later I cut out of the Swell Season’s set at This Tent before they got to Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” In fact, I left right after “Falling Slowly” which probably made me look like an asshole who just wanted to hear the Oscar song. It was beautiful, though, even though Glen Hansard mistook the sound bleeding over from the other stages as his own band’s sound equipment malfunctioning, and stopped the song to protest “that noise”—otherwise, it seemed without a misstep, and rocked a lot more than I expected, given the general lovely sleepiness of the Once soundtrack.

My afternoon shift at the Paste tent on site coincided with the performance of Umphrey’s McGee on the Sonic Stage, which likely lead to Emergency Services treating a mass influx of repetitive head-bob injuries. Jam safe, y’all.

The Raconteurs, who for some reason I used to think were kind of a goofy band (probably because I thought "Steady As She Goes" was kind of a goofy song), played at the massive What Stage early this evening, and I made it over there just in time to watch the very last song ("Carolina Drama") on probably the most cinematographically pleasing Jumbo Trons of my whole concert-going life. And it kind of blew my mind. Maybe it was the sound system, the fact that this was my first show on the festival’s biggest stage, or my first time seeing Jack White live in any form, or the careful angles and deliberate panning of the camera operators, but I felt like I was watching something big, the hot burning center of some musical orb on the verge of explosion—and from a band that, until recently, I considered (ignorantly, and unfairly) a kind of second-rate side-project with a name I could never spell right. All I know is that the last minute or so of "Carolina Drama" not only made my arm hairs stand on end, but gave me outright goosepimples in 85 degree heat. I'm sold.

Then there was Rilo Kiley, back at This Tent, where Jenny Lewis made me wish I was still young and impressionable so she could be my rock ‘n roll lady role model and make me pick up a guitar and also a one-piece pink sparkly jumper and make all the boys cry. Hooray hooray!

Need to go squeeze in a nap now, or at least get back to my room-- am currently sitting out in the middle of the hotel hallways because that's the only place I can get WiFi without heading out to the fake ivy-bedecked lobby. I'm feeling a little like a weirdo. This carpet's pretty nice, though. And not dusty. What a relief.

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