The Patchouli Stays in the Picture

Radiohead: Is the eyeliner organic?
photo: Hal Horowitz/WireImage.com

It might be time to admit that the hippies won.

Bonnaroo launched in 2002 as a haven for free-form jam-bands and the tie-dyed, dreadlocked masses who love them. While hipper folks mocked their patchouli-soaked fun, tens of thousands gathered each summer to camp out, listen to scores of bands and celebrate the ideals of musicianship, communal living and the simple beauty of dancing in the sun.

This summer, in its fifth year, Bonnaroo dramatically diversified its lineup to include headliners Radiohead and Tom Petty, along with some of the best musicians from the worlds of indie-rock, hip-hop, blues, funk, jazz, reggae, country, world music and bluegrass. At first, it might seem like the hippies caved and brought in the big guns to bring some order and dignity to this shindig. But one trip through the Bonnaroo campgrounds in Manchester, Tennessee, and it's clear: The mountain moved to Mohammed. The patchouli stays in the picture.

Bonnaroo fans certainly didn't all look the same this year. Next to the girl in Birkenstocks and a flower dress was the hipster dude with an angular haircut and, on the other side, an older guy, carrying a lawn chair and binoculars. But they lived and danced together the Bonnaroo way. Good vibes permeated nearly every set, as artists as diverse as the Streets and Death Cab for Cutie could be heard yodeling the weekend's hearty salute: "Bonnarooooooo!" At night, all comers could be heard cackling across the land, stopping in at the new made-for-stoners comedy tent, tripping through the made-for-those-on-acid Enchanted Forest or the made-for-those-on-ecstasy Silent Disco.

Founders like Buddy Guy and Dr. John -- who gave the festival its name (more on that later) -- brought their best to the fest, as if to signal their approval of such a celebration. Even Thom Yorke, the dour frontman whose paranoid lyrics seem antithetical to the hippie way, was backstage during Damian Marley's set, jumping up and down, grinning and chanting along with everyone else: "Out in the streets, they call it murder!"

Call it vindication, if you want: The hippies, who long ago gave up trying to be cool, ignored the sniffs of the mainstream and insisted that it was all about the music, put on America's best festival. And they did it their way. Here's how . . .

Thursday, 5 p.m.

Campers are trickling in on the day before the festival really gets started. They make their way to one of ninety-three randomly assigned camps, with names like "Camp Jeff Spicoli" and "Camp Fat Bastard." Micro-cities begin to take shape within the massive collection of polyurethane, poles and humanity called Tent City. There will be street names, bad neighborhoods and thriving markets, both official and underground, selling everything from ponchos and jewelry to vodka and mescaline.

The main festival ground is called Centeroo and includes ten music venues, including the Who Stage, Which Stage, This Tent, That Tent and The Other Tent. Countless Who's-on-First-style routines commence, none of which would be that funny to sober people. The Hippies have really dug in around this place. For further evidence, witness the Good Vibes patrol, a squadron of volunteers dispatched to encourage recycling on the premises.

There is also a movie theater, which will run nearly nonstop over the course of the festival, showing everything from Walk the Line and This Is Spinal Tap to live feeds of the NBA Finals and the World Cup. Looking at the schedule, many wonder about the poor souls who will be watching Rocky IV on Saturday night while Radiohead plays on the What Stage.

The music also begins Thursday night, with sets by veteran Philly indie-rockers Marah and Aussie jam-rock sextet Cat Empire. An early highlight was the Wood Brothers. Chris Wood of Medeski, Martin and Wood played some nasty upright bass while his brother Oliver slapped his steel hollow-bodied guitar to great effect. On "Luckiest Man," Chris broke out the harmonica and hearty cheers mingled with the thick ganja smoke in the air.

Friday 12:45 p.m.

The heat and humidity are stifling as the grounds fill with excited fans. At least one contingent, the many New Orleans musicians in attendance, loves it. "They ordered this humidity just for me," dapper pianist-songwriter Allen Toussaint tells us. "It feels like New Orleans out there. We could make coffee with the humidity."

Among the first to brave the heat is Devotchka, a folk quartet inspired by music from Eastern Europe, hitting the intimate Sonic Stage. Indie-rock kids pour into the mini-stage area to watch them weave beguiling tunes from diverse instrumentation including a theremin, a sousaphone and the long-necked Greek guitar called a bouzouki.

1 p.m.

My Morning Jacket's Jim James is checking out a set by singer-songwriter Andrew Bird at That Tent. This is James' fourth Bonnaroo and he's an unqualified advocate. "Festivals give people a chance to get out and live an alternate existence for a weekend," he says, "to forget about work and forget about their troubles and just come out and see a tone of music and have fun."

1:30 p.m.

Where's Matisyahu? The Hasidic reggae star loves Bonnaroo -- his guest appearance on stage with Trey Anastasio last year helped make him a star -- and in 2006, he's livin' zaftig at the fest. Soon after arriving in Manchester, he and his wife make their way to the photo booth in the artists' compound for some candids. Challah!

2 p.m.

The masses turn out in force for the first time to see Ben Folds' set on the Which Stage, where he leads them in three-part harmony ("Everyone with a low voice sing this part . . . ") and pounds his piano's keys with a ferocity that's made him a favorite with the likes of Mike Skinner of the Streets, who later tells us Folds is the artist at Bonnaroo with whom he'd most like to collaborate. To close his set, Folds hurls his piano stool at the keys a half dozen times and leaps atop his baby grand to receive the ample ovation accorded by fans who seemed to know the words to even his Internet-only EPs. "I don't love playing for huge crowds, but that crowd was a very intelligent, considerate crowd," he tells ROLLING STONE backstage after the set. "I was surprised at the number of people who didn't mind singing. It sounded amazing. They're really in tune." Earlier, Folds stopped at the Troo Music Lounge to check out the set of Brooklyn singer-songwriter Corn Mo, a favorite of his. "The fact that they had their finger on the pulse enough to know [Mo] says a lot," Folds says of Bonnaroo's organizers. "The people putting this together were clearly music fans."

4 p.m.

Nobody looks less hippie that Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst. The emo wunderkind's embrace of the proceedings seemed to set the stage for a string of incredible indie-rock performances over the festival. "I get the impression a lot of you come out every year to check out new music," he says from the stage. "I think that's very cool." And with that, the hipsters and the hippies entered a Yalta-like pact.

Over the course of the set, he brought in a string of guests, including Gillian Welch, Steven Rawlings, My Morning Jacket's Jim James and the Super Furry Animals' Gruff Rhys, to form an indie-rock supergroup for "Singing a Song in the Morning," by the Soft Machine's Kevin Ayers. "They just showed me the song five minutes before and I was like 'OK,' " Jones told us backstage after the show. You know who else was grooving backstage to the show? You got it: Matisyahu.