Better than: The $7 Bud Lights on sale, marketed generically and dimensionally as "12oz beer." Cool story, Irving Plaza!

People were packed into the helpless rectangle of Irving Plaza, walled off from the stage by a barricade and a thin photo pit yet still within intimate distance. Jack's Mannequin frontman and pianist Andrew McMahon said a few times during the night that he chose to play at Irving Plaza because of the closeness of the stage to the crowd. I was in the photo pit for the first song; within seconds McMahon had leaped over me to the barricade, where he could selectively merge with the crowd.

That was a connective element to the show: McMahon's ecstatic leaping. From his chair, onto his piano, into the angled arms of fans, with a weird exactness. Otherwise he was gliding insanely along his piano as if the two movements were interrelated. McMahon's music has a grounding warmth, even while it is manic. There's a feeling of home, of being understood by a familiar place; all the while McMahon darts through hooks. When spotlights retreated from the stage, the musicians were mostly amplified by modest lamplight, one over McMahon's piano, another behind bassist Mikey "The Kid" Wagner, implying the warmth of home.

So much to see, everywhere.

Better than: Watching scene reports scroll by on Twitter.

In a lot of ways, the Bamboozle is a festival tailor-made for the current moment of constant distraction. The festival's running time over three days totals approximately 27 hours. There are eight stages of music, plus a stage for spoken-word and comedy bits. The 100-plus acts run the gamut, from critically approved hip-hop to critically reviled screamo to nostalgia-pricking acts from rock eras past. There's a wrestling ring where luchadores--led by the not very subtly named Dirty Sanchez--fling each other around; if that doesn't satiate your urge to watch competition, there's a breakdancing stage. There are carnival rides. There are tons of merch booths, some of which host autograph signings that attract long, snaking lines of eager fans. There's a psychic, an inflatable structure where one can procure free Trojans, and a place to charge your phone so you can keep up with the tweeting that details all the things you're missing. If you play your cards right and bring enough friends, it's quite possible to get a "full" Bamboozle experience without consciously hearing a single song in its entirety.