To most, Bonnaroo pinnacled this year with a 28-song performance by Radiohead during the festival’s second night. In one of their rare North American performance dates this year, England’s Thom Yorke and crew celebrated their entire catalog, marvelous in comparison to the handful of theatre shows they did a month earlier where new, unreleased material dominated each show. Their two and a half-hour set was preceded by none other than Beck, who with the aide of an on-stage puppet show and giant dancing bears delivered his patented trashcan-funk repertoire of songs new and old, as well as Radiohead and Flaming Lips covers. While these indie rock titans did have the spotlight that night, patchouli-stenched masses made it out in droves to see Oysterhead, the seldom-performing supergroup consisting of Primus’ Les Claypool, Stewart Copeland of The Police, and venerable hippie icon Trey Anastasio, whose performance was one of my favorites of the whole festival (perhaps tied with Ben Folds, whose cutesy sing-alongs have always yielded great shows).

As headliners jammed out on several main-stages, named only as you would expect them to be at Bonnaroo (What Stage, Which Stage, This Tent, That Tent), several artists made it over to the Sonic Stage throughout the weekend to play abbreviated, often acoustic sets. Blues Traveler concluded their 30-minute Sonic Stage performance with their 1994 hit, “Run Around,” as it was the only remark the audience had for the group, aside from sporadic applause and yelling in between and during tunes. On the same stage, Matisyahu had a lackluster performance full of blessing food and saying words really fast while wearing a funny hat. His gimmick will have most certainly worn thin by the time this has been published.

While Bonnaroo 2006 was indeed a showcase for newer groups, old schoolers had their moment to shine as well (or fade in comparison). Elvis Costello played a surprisingly disappointing set Saturday evening, especially compared to Tom Petty’s goddamn awesome performance the night before.

In the end, Bonnaroo was about more than just driving 800 miles to chase long-hairs away from my tent with a baseball bat in the middle of the night. As an unidentified, tie-dyed, hemp-wearing harlot told me my first night there, “Bonnaroo…it’s about, like, love man.” And pissing in bottles.