Friday
Day two begins with some campsite bonding. We fill up an inflatable pool and get to drinking. Our neighbors are an eclectic group: Jeff, Stuart and Bonnie are Tennessee originals from 15 miles down the road. There’s also a man known only as God—not to be confused with the philosopher from the night before—with his flowing white hair, neatly trimmed beard, and powerhouse of an RV. —Kris Bass
Atmosphere played to a packed crowd under This Tent. For a dude that’s been rapping his ass off for a long fucking time, Slug came correct from song to song throughout the entire set. Every lick and lyric was seamless, and for a daylight set Slug and Ant both rolled smooth from start to finish.
From hip-hop to west coast punk, the terrorizing trio of NoFX ripped apart That Tent with reckless abandon. The mosh pit was fast and furious in a near six inches of loose sand; the fans didn’t let up until the band left the stage. A slimmer Fat Mike quipped, “We’re not the best band in the world, but we’re the best band at Bonnaroo.” It was good to see a punk band throw a middle finger at the other artists. Though there is an air of fellowship at ‘Roo, there’s nothing wrong with a little healthy competition.
By the time the sun was falling behind the trees, one of the main events of the evening was getting ready to take the What Stage. My Morning Jacket, fronted by an abominable snowman-footed Jim James, made a showing that put the “best band at Bonnaroo” to shame. Though it’s a little unfair to compare punk music to soaring guitar rock, MMJ was a much higher caliber act and brought on the evening in excellent form. They’re no strangers to the festival scene and they ripped through an emotionally soaked set almost effortlessly.
Before MMJ could finish, Primus took the Which Stage and laid down a two-hour jam session. Their set was packed with new material; Les Claypool’s own random musings and old favorites including “Jerry Was A Race Car Driver.” The set was melodic and inspirational as Claypool belted away on his bass faster and more accurately than most guitarists. The set was accented perfectly by nighttime skydivers that dropped glow-in-the-dark glitter over the festival grounds.
The evening made way for Lil Wayne who pumped up the crowd at every turn. Thankful to his fans for helping him through his trip at the big house, he didn’t waste any time pleasing those who kept his ship afloat.
Many festivals shut down for the evening at 10 or 11 p.m., but at Bonnaroo there is no curfew. As night turned to dawn, Ratatat was firing away with machine gun accuracy in the Other Tent. There was no shortage of tunage as the second evening ended much like the first—with a beer in one hand, a glow stick in the other and a smile from ear to ear. —Aaron Pylinski
