Full metal BasementIn case you haven’t heard by now, Metallica put on an intimate surprise performance last Thursday at The Basement for a crowd of fan club members, Grimey’s staffers and a few lucky friends. Anticipation (and the humidity) was high as the band took the stage. And the Lord said, “Let there be metal.” And it was loud. James Hetfield made some joke about the heat, at which a crowd member astutely shouted, “Wait till Bonnaroo!” Then Hetfield & Co. tore into “No Remorse” and the heads started banging. Well wouldn’t you know, we look to our left, and there are several Nashville cops, fully uniformed, banging their heads with the best of ’em. Of course, no hair was flying, but still, we’re thinking, “Wow, you don’t see that every day.” We later found out that the cops weren’t there for crowd control—they had gotten wind of the show, and they were Metallica fans. Apparently they got their pictures taken with Hetfield and were happier than...ooh, bad analogy. You get the idea. There are some cool cops out there. In addition to about 50 ecstatic fan club members, we spotted Ghostfinger’s Richie Kirkpatrick, American Bang, Willy Tyler and Ryan Norris, and...is that Bobby Bare Jr. running the lights? Highlights included “Welcome Home (Sanitarium),” a blistering “Master of Puppets” and “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” It’s easy to mock the art of metal shredding, but Kirk Hammett made a believer out of us, both for his artful ideas and his ability to play monstrously fast, yet stay right in the groove...and this over more than a few crazy math-metal beats that had us reaching for our calculators. Throughout the set, the band joked around, did a few false starts to old classics they hadn’t played in forever, and just acted like a really good bar band. Which for one night in Nashville, is exactly what they were.

Dixie dirtBonnaroo threw everything it had at us: From sunburn and alcohol-induced dehydration to sweaty crowds and rain-soaked Centeroo grounds, we battled the elements and managed to see some great music along the way. Thursday was a light lineup, and we caught Superdrag’s muscular power-pop, MGMT’s glammy chill at dusk and Battles’ relentless math-rock. Highlights from the heavily attended Felice Brothers performance that night included “Radio Song” and “Helen Fry,” both of which sounded crisp and fully accentuated by washboards and hard-strumming acoustic guitars. But it was only the beginning—here are a few of the rest of the weekend’s highlights: Photo Slideshows * Thursday * Friday * Saturday * Sunday * HighlightsBonnaroo FridayThe day began with a disappointing set by the Drive-By Truckers on the Which Stage with no shade. Our expectations were extremely high, though. DBT opened with “Living Bubba,” which was too restrained, much like the rest of the set that would follow. Maybe they were just too sober—sure, it was only 12:30 p.m., but where was the Jack Daniel’s? “Marry Me” “Dead, Drunk and Naked” and “Puttin’ People on the Moon” kept us entertained, but were unfortunately not worth the sunburn. Over at That Tent, The Fiery Furnaces delivered a strong performance that was both calm and disjointed. A glockenspiel player joined the band, and her furious, meandering hammering complemented singer Eleanor Friedberger’s vaguely androgynous voice perfectly. When Converse reps sent several life-size cutouts of Friedberger into the crowd (a ploy that was perpetrated at most of the bigger shows), keyboardist Matthew Friedberger dubbed the move “corporate infiltration” and demanded that the audience rip Eleanor’s cardboard doppelgangers to pieces. We found relief from the heat with British-pop musician Adele at The Other Tent. She laughingly complained about the heat, remarking, “It’s fucking hot. I’m from Liverpool. I’ve never been in heat like this.” Her powerful voice was showcased on “Right as Rain,” “Melt My Heart to Stone” and “Daydreamer,” all tracks from her newest release, 19. Such a crowd had gathered for Jack White and The Raconteurs a bit later that The Spin couldn’t even manage to squeeze into the press bleachers. We ended up in a spot wedged between the handicapped seating and an oily, addled Canadian who kept complaining about the time zone change. The Racs played an intensely rocking set, complete with long stretches of bluesy jams and riff-offs between White and Brendan Benson. White even repped Nashville a time or two. The highest concentration of hipsters we’d come across yet was gathered at This Tent for Rilo Kiley. Jenny Lewis & Co. were dapperly clad (she in sparkling gold tights and some sort of pink onesie), and they played a set that primarily consisted of their new less-folksy-more-sexy/funky material. We slipped out early to go catch M.I.A. (though we missed her retirement announcement), but not before having to squeeze between a barricade and a dozen half-nude body-painted women. (We managed to slip into the artist hospitality area Friday evening, where we bumped into Lewis eating gumbo. We tried to coax her into joining us for My Morning Jacket, but she informed us that her plan was to “pig out, get drunk and go to sleep.”) As evening fell, things began to cool down and mellow out. It was the perfect time for Willie Nelson to play, but not for us. Nelson’s mix volume was extremely low, making his lyrics indiscernible at times. Add the fact that Rilo Kiley was playing one tent over, and Nelson was drowned out. My Morning Jacket lived up to their reputation as an epic festival band with a set of pure sensory overload. Scores of glow sticks arced over the rain-drenched crowd as they delivered their thunderous set in front of a three-dimensional eyeball backdrop. They performed several covers, among which were Erykah Badu’s “Call Tyrone” and the incredibly appropriate Sly & the Family Stone hit “Hot Fun in the Summertime.” Metallica took the stage at 9:30 p.m. Go ahead and check your preconceived metal-head stereotypes at the door, because they were amazing. Coming off the recent new-album-reviews fiasco, James Hetfield & Co. had something to prove, and prove it they did. A perfectly choreographed light show accompanied openers “Creeping Death” and “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” while the band dipped deep into their discography. “The Unforgiven,” “…And Justice for All” and “One” (with pyrotechnic display) left us wanting more.

Bonnaroo SaturdayWe awoke to pouring rain and soggy conditions, but the showers soon cleared. Two Gallants were high energy for a two-man band—frontman Adam Stephens’ leg kicks and hard-hitting vocals on “Las Cruces Jail” got a rousing cheer from the sparse crowd. The Avett Brothers’ grizzled beards and jangled-guitar attacks drew a larger crowd than we imagined. Chan Marshall, known by most as Cat Power, put on a captivating show backed by her practiced band of bluesy studio types. Marshall slid about the stage, emoting and gesturing like some sort of modern Janis Joplin. Her spot-on, throaty vocals entranced the exhausted afternoon crowd and rang through Centeroo like a siren. When Marshall glanced into the press pit and grinned at us, our hearts nearly melted. Levon Helm, adorned with standard black-baseball gloves, sounded surprisingly young and fresh. “Ophelia” and “Evangeline” made us think we were at The Last Waltz—both came equipped with female back-up vocalists, Helm on mandolin and a large brass section. Helm brought on Little Sammy Davis later in the set for two tunes, one of which was Slim Harpo’s “Baby Scratch My Back.”

Iron & Wine opened with a revamped, slightly reggaed-out version of “Boy With a Coin” that grabbed our attention. The folksy tunes of Sam Beam and his sister Sarah were surprisingly energetic, and the crowd ate it up. Though we enjoyed Iron & Wine’s set, we were a bit distracted by a bleary-looking Alia Shawkat (Arrested Development’s Maeby), who stood between the stage and us. One of the most enthusiastic crowds we saw all weekend was gathered in the mud-caked That Tent for Sigur Rós. When the hazy, yellow lights came up on lead singer Jón Pór Birgisson, he was sawing at a Les Paul with his trademark cello bow and wearing a George Washington-meets-Mad Max type of ensemble. The pixie-esque Icelander led his band (and a brass section dressed like an all-white mariachi group) in a lengthy set of their ethereal, gibberish-laced post-rock. Aside from a bit of technical trouble with keyboards and an unnecessarily pushy Irish security guy, it was the dreamiest performance we caught.

For full Bonnaroo coverage, including Sunday’s events, visit nashvillecream.com.