At other festivals, Tom Petty might seem like the wild card. But in a valley full of kids raised by classic rock radio (and even some of their parents) he’s quite the opposite: he’s the draw. Cries of “Give me Petty!” started the second the Flaming Lips exited the stage, but it would be another hour before the man in question would deliver a two-hour, hit-heavy set that would see 40,000 people emerging from campsites and bushes to sing-shout along. Beneath a banner of screens bearing Petty and his band mates, the Heartbreakers catalogue was tested and approved, bookended by “Won’t Back Down” and “American Girl” (with the Traveling Wilbury’s “End of the Line” thrown in for good measure). Throughout, Petty thanked the crowd and his band profusely, sporting a charming gee-whiz grin. The masses, in kind, saluted their bewildered hero the only way they could. “I can smell that marijuana,” Petty said, smiling mid-song.
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