Megan Morris/Flickr

Each one of these tents? FULL OF DRUGS.

"Officially, Bonnaroo forbids drugs. Unofficially, all kinds of drugs were as easy to find as the ice cream. Marijuana was most prevalent. As at many festivals and rock concerts, the usual laws seem not to apply; transactions that could lead to a prison term on city streets are conducted openly here. "
—The Times blows the lid off the whole "people doing drugs at Bonnaroo" story with a tsk-tsky op-ed by self-proclaimed "eclectic listener" Carrie Jerrell, who makes the above observation. Elsewhere in the piece, you'd better believe there's a Woodstock comparison! And it invokes a Kennedy in the following manner: "The kids didn't know who he was. They didn't care. They just wanted to hear more music." Kids today, am I right? I bet you everyone at Woodstock paid attention to every last political word uttered from that stage!

Star-studded lineup videos: now a thing.

Yes, the Tennessee mega-festival, now in its tenth (!) year, has announced its initial lineup, the usual melange of rappers, rockers, and jam-band monoliths, this year headlined by Eminem and Arcade Fire, only one of whom won the Album of the Year Grammy 48 hours ago. Conan O'Brien breaks it down for you above; if you enjoy giant lists of names, see below. (Plumbing the lower third of these things is always fun: Sharon Van Etten! Kylesa! The Smith Westerns!) Tix are on sale Thursday -- all the info you need is here, though maybe give their servers a second to figure things out. Please note that the surprise special guest is always "mud."

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photo by Abby Manock

Bonnaroo and body odor go together like Irish men and Jameson, which is why so many of the from-the-mud testimonials focus on the showering aspect of the three-day hackey-sacks-and-hulahoops showdown--or lack thereof. Apparently there are only two primary on-site option for scrubbing yourself clean: 1) Paying $7 for an actual shower; 2) Standing half-naked under a "mushroom fountain" for free, which basically makes this one spot on the grounds, ah, an olfactory oasis. Why anyone here, but not there, might care? New York artist Maya Hayuk, who's work tends to show up in places like Cinders Gallery and Secret Project Robot, is the one responsible for the fungi fountain's trippy psychedelics.

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Like a million?

Braver men and women than us have foundered in the muddy, marijuana-soaked waters of Bonnaroo, the annual four-day music/camping festival on the grassy flats of Manchester, Tennessee. And though there is Jay-Z, and the Gaslight Anthem, there are also predatory drug dealers, sweltering heat, multiple bouts of rain, and dudes in tie-dye, playing didgeridoos outside your filthy tent at all hours of the night like it's their fucking job. Here in New York, our superiority complexes don't need much reinforcement, but just in case you found yourself dreaming of that Phoenix set on the Which Stage (or is it the more whimsical What Stage?), here are a gang of reasons why you're better off here than there:

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Musician/actor/talker/personality Henry Rollins has been in touch Iann Robinson for years, long before Robinson's days as the MTV VJ Horatio Sanz once spoofed on Saturday Night Live. Since Henry Rollins headlines Irving Plaza tonight and tomorrow, we asked Robinson to get his old acquaintance on the phone. This is what happened.

"When I see these bands reunite and play that same set every night for the 30th year--I guess it's a paid check. I'd rather starve, personally."

My first encounter with Henry Rollins came via a letter. I have always been a Black Flag fan--their logo is permanently inked into my skin in two separate places--but it was Rollins's voice on Damaged that hooked me. One day I decided to write the man, figuring I'd never hear back. Instead Rollins wrote back not just a letter, but a fairly lengthy one.

During my MTV years as a VJ, I got to speak to Rollins on two separate occasions. One of my only fond memories from that era was when Henry called me to ask if I could do a quick blurb about his benefit record for the West Memphis Three--instead I got him an MTV web site feature and a full interview. After my career as music whore ended, only a handful of my celebrity "friends" remained in touch, but Rollins was one of them. He's offered me advice, read my comic books, and given me some solid writing pointers.

Don't get me wrong, we're not best buddies. But Rollins has always been very cool and very appreciative of my small attempts to help out. Not everybody likes Rollins, which is fine because not everybody likes me. Regardless, he is always outspoken, funny, and, most importantly, he looks ahead instead of wallowing in his past. Once again, I had the good fortune to interview the man. And once again, I learned some things.

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Though it doesn't reach the lofty heights of Triumph at the Star Wars Screening or Triumph at the Tonys, the mere fact that Conan O'Brien's attack dog deigned to take on Bonnaroo suggests a certain apex of mainstream acceptance/derision. A dog puppet humping a turntable is actually an excellent way to encapsulate the whole "DJ School" concept; his extensive, awkward interview with the lass in the tent camp brought to mind a line from the Star Wars episode: "You can choose from all kinds of guys who have no idea how to please you." Passing on a Twitter joke shows remarkable restraint.

(Part 2 after the jump.)

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The Beastie Boys played Bonnaroo this weekend, bringing out Nas--of all people to show up randomly in the middle of the Tennessee countryside--for a new song that is reportedly destined for the upcoming Hot Sauce Committee. That would make Nas the second confirmed guest on the record, after Santigold, and this video snippet of the song is promising--it is exactly the sort of whiney rap classicism Nas has been on the last few years, usefully leavened by the fact that the Beastie Boys actually have a sense of humor. Rolling Stone reports that Nas was apparently very excited just to be there, and that he requested "Paul Revere," the song the Beasties went into immediately after the new one. May they lament the non-death of rap together.

The Twittersphere is alight with #Bonnaroo, where it's supposed to rain all weekend. But that's not the only reason to avoid the annual mud-soaked four-day "camping festival" in Manchester, Tennessee:

The pigs are apparently out in full force. Also, the word "'roo."

You might end up inadvertently becoming this hobbit's bitch.

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If you're real lucky maybe she'll rip off her afro wig mid-song and slam it down on the stage.

I myself have never braved the differently hygienic masses at Bonnaroo, Tennessee's annual long-weekend hippie/hipster soiree. But the announcement of this year's lineup -- held June 11-14 in Manchester, TN -- has oddly energized me. My Springsteen affections are well-known of course, but you really should see him before you die/he dies. (Not to alarm you, but there's a decent chance the Boss will win that battle, actually.) Phish'll be a hoot. Plenty of intrigue from there from the big shots (Al Green! David Byrne!) to the fine print (King Sunny Adé! The Knux! Todd Snider!) And it sure beats the crap out of Coachella. But you heard it here first: This year's best Bonnaroo set? Erykah Badu. Without question the most stupendous live performer in music today. The exactly perfect union of absolute command and volatile loopiness. Plus she just Twitter'd the birth of her daughter, so she'll have lotsa inspiration. This is gonna be rad. Now excuse me while I go buy a tent.

Week before last when Nick Anderman reported back from Bonnaroo about the early-morning "Kanye West Debacle" and a bunch of you from the 'Roo firebombed the comments section with heart-attack rumors, backstage whisperings, and interpersonal flame-war follies, everybody knew this wouldn't be the last of it. See, Mr. West has a blog and he likes to use it (with his "fucking Mac book Air!!!!!!!!"). So to set the record straight, he says none of this was his fault and, in fact, you should feel bad for him.

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