Photo Slideshow: Bonnaroo 2010

In Tim Burton’s “Big Fish,” there’s a seminal scene where Edward spots his true love in the middle of an enormous circus tent. As he sees said true love, time stops, people freeze in place and popcorn is suspended in mid-air. Edward parts through the popcorn, circus freaks hanging by their feet, etc. on his way to meet his true love (because, you know, that’s what’s supposed to happen). It may be cheesy, but that has always been one of my favorite moments from any movie.

And as the Flaming Lips took the stage at the stroke of midnight at the Bonnaroo Music & Arts Festival in Manchester, Tennessee, I only had to wait an hour or so for my “Big Fish” moment.

I walked up late to Which Stage after struggling to satisfy my appetite for late-night music with so many good bands on tap and not enough time to see them — the Black Keys and Bassnectar, to name a few. But the Lips were the main attraction, all prepped — after playing a set of their own music — to play Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon (with help from Stardeath and White Dwarfs). Having heard the legendary album so many times on vinyl from my various housemates' rooms, I knew I couldn’t miss the performance.

With lead singer Wayne Coyne’s face projected from a fish-eye microphone camera, his channeling (or rather, respectful honoring) of Pink Floyd frontman David Gilmour became a mythical experience, interwoven between trippy flashing images of the moon and a running woman displayed in negative. Then, in the middle of the song “Brain Damage,” it happened.

“If your head explodes with dark forebodings too,” Coyne sang, “I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.”

And then the stage exploded with what seemed to be 500 or so pounds of confetti, the pieces of tissue paper suspended in midair like time had stopped. I looked to my left and grown men were crying. It was all I needed from the weekend. It was my moment.

Walking away from the best show of my life, I took in the atmosphere around me more than I had the night before. The 700-acre farm that is Bonnaroo looked like a bazaar, tented shops all over, kind of like a drugged-out carnival. Nowhere else could a group of strangers finish up their long nights of musical sensory overload (perpetuated by copious use of psychedelics) by simply falling asleep on the ground where they were standing. But everyone understood.

Even beyond this sense of hippie-family and drugs, Bonnaroo was simply about making people remember why they love music so much — especially its ability to make those moments that stay with you.

My friends and I were torn on our overall strategy for tackling the festival’s massive lineup, one that forced tough decisions at every front. Should I see Weezer or Jeff Beck, or should I watch Jack White’s entire set with his new new band, The Dead Weather? Or should I blow it all off, save my strength and get a really kick-ass seat for Stevie Wonder? Decisions like this tended to dominate the weekend, and a lot of times, it seems like those in charge of making said schedule could’ve done a little better spreading the high-demand acts out.

So we had to make the best of it, missing some bands I’d looked forward to like local Ann Arbor soul child Mayer Hawthorne and folksy Blitzen Trapper. But after forgoing both of those acts on the first night, I knew I would have to spread my time out thinly, choosing to leave in the middle of some acts, instead of camping out at one tent and staying there.

The first night carried few treasures in comparison to the other three legend-filled blocks, but I was still relatively awed. The xx impressed with an intense and trippy light show, under That Tent, and although the band wasn’t one of my favorites heading in, I felt at home with its devoted followers.