Having worked in the music industry now for most of my life, six years of that behind the lighting board of the Great American Music Hall, I've seen many, many, many encores. Almost all of these are planned - hell, most of them are written into the set-list. So when the crowd was still roaring five minutes after the band left the stage, I was excited: finally, here's a real one!

But Boris did the most rock 'n' roll thing imaginable: they didn't come back on. Seven minutes: no Boris. Ten minutes: no Boris. Encore denied. The crowd, mostly indie-rockers between the ages of 16 to 30, accustomed to the obligatory encore that follows every set, regardless of whether it's asked for or not, was visibly confused.

Once it became clear that there was no use waiting for the metal trio to re-appear, we headed over to catch a few tunes from Apples in Stereo. The power-pop ensemble delivered a sunny, bouncy set filled with fan favorites like "The Rainbow," and "The Sun is Out." Altogether a great showing, and Apples in Stereo was clearly having fun, but the group had the unfortunate luck of a lulling, mid-day placement.

Time to head back over to the Connector stage for Les Savy Fav. I spent the first part of the set trying to figure out where the hell the other leg of Tim Harrington's shiny red spandex leggings went to, and I got a close-up view as the bald, bearded, frontman leaped from the stage, onto the side viewing platform. At first he intended to scale the fence, but thought better of it, instead turning to serenade various VIPs and press folk before leaping back onto stage.

In true Harrington fashion, his antics outshined the music: donning a pirate mask and hair dresser's cape (at first this was confusing, then someone informed me that he'd been giving $2 haircuts by the shuffleboard court on Saturday afternoon); rolling around in mud pit at the front of the audience, and then "anointing" the front row with the very mud he was covered in; and most notably, hopping into a Chicago city garbage bin and encouraging the crowd to pick him up - bin and all - and move him around. Suck it, Flaming Lips.

His over-the-top theatrics, and the fact that he spent most of his time in the audience got me to thinking that the worst job in the music industry must belong to Harrington's microphone cable wrangler. I got a look at the tired, stressed-out dude who's job it was to get hundreds of people untangled from Harrington's mic cord before the flamboyant vocalist jumped to another part of the crowd. I could see his ulcer from 30 feet away. Harrington particularly enjoyed being covered in mud, coaxing the crowd to join him on multiple occasions, "Guys, it's hot - be careful not to get sun poisoning. If you don't have any sunscreen, put mud on you - just like the hippos."

After all that excitement, I was excited for a mild, acoustic set from San Francisco's Dodos, but they didn't do mild: their bright, folk-pop tunes translated incredibly well to the festival environment. Despite the fact that they were seated most of the time, this dudes were working hard, and it clearly paid off: the audience reaction continued to grow louder throughout, and by the end of the set it was clear that the Dodos had won some new fans.

Now time for the booking cluster-fuck: According to the official Pitchfork schedule, Ghostface Killah and Raekwon should have gone on at 5 p.m., on the Aluminum stage. Due to a cancellation by El Guincho and some last-minute switch-a-roos, the set was pushed back to 6:25 p.m. on the much smaller Balance stage.

Media were alerted to this fact the week before the fest, so when MCs Tim Tuten and Damon Locks continued to announce to the crowd throughout the day that the hip-hop duo would be playing at 6 p.m., I started to worry. I flagged down a volunteer and heard from that person that Ghostface and Raekwon would, indeed, go on at 6:25 p.m., so I hauled it over to the Connector stage to get in on some M. Ward first.

I'm a firm believer that every outdoor summer festival should have a dude standing on stage, alone, with an acoustic guitar. And you can't really ask for a better troubadour than M. Ward, who somehow manages to channel Townes Van Zandt, Woodie Guthrie, and Bob Dylan while also emitting his own unique sound. How is that possible? Couldn't say, but the two solo songs Ward started his set with were outstanding. By the time he got around to bringing the rest of the band onstage, a thick wave of bass came over the crowd, all but drowning out his third tune. Wu-fucking-tang. Time check? 6:07 p.m.

AA and I hauled it over to the Balance stage - hey, couldn't hear M. Ward anyway - to catch Ghostface Killah and Raekwon. Why these two powerful MCs were moved to the smallest stage is beyond me. Why they were re-scheduled to play at the same time as one of the weekend's quietest acts is also a mystery. What I do know, is that nothing gets an overpacked crowd going quite like chanting, "Wu Tang Clan ain't nothing to fuck with."

Both MCs sported the requisite baggy clothing and white towels draped over their shoulders. Stage banter was on-point, "How many of ya'll out there smoke marijuana?" asked Raekwon, to massive cheering, "Cuz I smell that motherfucker." Highlights of the set included, "C.R.E.A.M.," "Ice-Cream," and an ode to ODB, "I Like It Raw."

As Abiding Assistant and I mechanically headed back to the Aluminum stage, I wondered how anything could top Ghostface and Raekwon, then I remembered that Spiritualized, the band I've been most excited to see, was up next. We arrived just in time to see Jason Pierce take the stage, he then proceeded to soar through a set that was heavy on songs from his new album, Songs in A&E but also included long-lost Spaceman 3 favorites. With two angelic back-up vocalists, a rapidly setting sun, and the backdrop of a picturesque church-day, the set was positively transcendental.

We were so transfixed it took us until after the set to notice that Julia Stiles had been standing in front of us the whole time. With indie rock steadily becoming mainstream, and tabloid-bobble-heads getting in on the hipster aesthetic (the Olson twins spent their birthday at Bonnaroo this year, and rumors are already circulating that Lindsay Lohan plans to making a showing at Lollapalooza), it was refreshing to see a celebrity who's made a point to stay out of the public eye, at a festival simply to listen to the music.

We headed over to check out a bit of Dinosaur Jr. before the closing Spoon set. Dino Jr. always puts on a great show, and this was more of the same, with Mascis thrashing in front of a wall of Marshall stacks.

Beloved Austin rockers, Spoon, delivered an intense, albeit ridiculously short set. Britt Daniel and company definitely satiated fans, but as the festival closer, there just wasn't enough oomph to go out on. Good thing Australian chart-toppers Cut Copy (who missed their original slot due to traveling issues) appeared for an electro-freakout mini-set that ran until curfew (which was all of 20 minutes).

It's possible that the crowd didn't even realize who was onstage, since King Khan, Deerhunter's Bradford Cox, and Jay Reatard were holding drunken court on the side-stage before introducing the Aussies. Whether people realized it was Cut Copy doesn't really matter though, that last 20 minutes brought the entire festival saw 17,000 sweaty, tired attendees dancing wildly to a blur of synth beats.