Benjamin Booker's Pulverizing Power Trio

When he plays guitar, Benjamin Booker furrows his brow and narrows his gaze. He hyper-focuses on his next move. He sees all the angles. He's not a flashy player at all, and his capacity for building rhythms and tempos with just a few chords and strums is immediately impressive. Even in the direct sunlight of a 90-degree day, Booker didn't waver. His drummer and bassist counted on him to lead, and he did -- but actually, they all looked like they counted on each other in equal measure. You can't play garage punk like this without leaning on your bandmates to find that central hub of order in the chaos; otherwise, everything falls apart. The most downright delightful moment of his set came near the end, when bass swapped for violin and drums for mandolin. Booker sang the hell out of that one, a bluegrass-like, heart-rending tune that sounded like a slowed-down version of the Stones' "Factory Girl." Booker's got some surprises up his sleeve. Let's see what the next one is.

Phox-Cappella Harmonies In The Forest

Sunday was hot, and any performance in the sunny open areas, no matter how good, was bound to be less enjoyable simply because of the oppressive heat. When Wisconsin's Phox took the aptly named Forest Stage (a quiet corner spot in the shade), they recognized the blessing right away. More hydrated fans are more receptive fans, and Phox's crowd couldn't have been more cordial, allowing the band's delicate, gorgeous folk-pop tunes they space they require to properly bloom. Singer Monica Martin's voice evokes a sweetness every time she twists a phrase, but the harmonies from bandmates Matteo Roberts and Jason Krunnfusz add another dimension of color to everything she conveys. So when the instruments dropped out and the three locked in place for a three-part a cappella indulgence -- in the cool, breezy shade, remember -- it felt downright heavensent. Then, a sincere cover of Blink-182's "I Miss You" and their very own mini-hit "Slow Motion," and they graciously exited. Thanks for the brief getaway, Phox, even though it couldn't last forever.

RJD2, Snakehips, And Return Of The Blue-Collar DJ

One thing that irked me at Firefly was the preponderance of electronic acts whose interest lied more in keeping their crowds #pumped than actually setting any kind of palpable mood. It seems simple enough: If the music you're churning out is good, it should speak for itself. You shouldn't need to keep hyping the crowd; the music should do that implicitly. With RJD2, the sweat that drips from below his flat-brim is the sweat of a workin' man. The dude runs around stage, flipping through a crate of vinyl records with only seconds to spare before they're due to go live. It's exhilarating and a bit nerve-wracking to watch, but it makes the output all the more earned. This man takes nothing for granted! Snakehips, a British duo, operated similarly, opting to stay silent and let their mix make all the impressions for them. Fusing Southern rap with pitch-shifted soul and decade-old pop, Snakehips created an atmosphere that allowed listeners to feel what they wanted (instead of just doling out commands on the mic). That's what the blue-collar, sleeves-rolled-up EDM acts can deliver.

Snoop Dogg Is Still Himself, Is Still Awesome

Before he stepped his lanky legs onstage Sunday night, I wondered: Would we see Snoop Dogg or Snoop Lion? The signs pointed toward the former; his Pharrell-produced latest album, Bush, just came out last month under the Dogg moniker, which all but guaranteed his Rastafarian phase had passed. But as soon as he strolled out to stand front and center and sway his rail-thin body to the mellow tunes his DJ was spinning, his choice of headwear gave him away. This is Snoop Dogg in name, but Snoop Lion in spirit. Rocking real dreadlocks and a rastacap, Snoop didn't preach or try to convert us. Instead, he scored a fan's piccolo-sized blunt and puffed it vigorously before ripping into "Nuthin' But A 'G' Thang" and "Forgot About Dre" nearly right away. An eventual "I Love Rock 'N' Roll" cover was more like a stoned Snoop hobbling around with a pal's iPod, picking the stuff he liked to bounce along with. No matter. It was a party, after all, and Snoop was the center.

The Killers Bring Us Home With Typical Glitz And Glamour

They opened with "Mr. Brightside" -- they really opened with "Mr. Brightside." And for those four minutes, with a festival throng rapt and shout-singing and chopping their arms in the air for emphasis, it looked like Brandon Flowers might've been right. Maybe the Killers really were the best band of the past 15 years. It's a silly thought now, in the light of day, so many hours removed from the moment. But that moment ... Brandon Flowers has a great solo album out now that he'll be touring behind heavily until October, because of course he does. Onstage, his boyish charm radiates out to the far recesses of the crowd, and I swear his smile can melt ice. He's not Bono or Springsteen up there, though he's close. He's fronting a band with some of the most explosive hits of this century, and they made sure to play them all -- and a few Kings Of Leon covers as a nod to that band's canceled Saturday set. They also rolled through a rollicking rendition of "Bad Moon Rising," and it was in those moments, when they sideswiped expectations, that the Killers climbed as high as the stratosphere would let them. And then they waved and smiled at us from above, played "All These Things That I've Done" and "When You Were Young," and called it a night.