The Fuji Rock Festival went off without a hitch or a typhoon this year. Philip Brasor, Simon Bartz, Jason Jenkins and Mark Thompson were there to bear witness.

The announcement that Smash would sell only three-day tickets to this year's Fuji Rock Festival, thus retracting the one- and two-day tickets it had previously offered, received mixed reactions. On the negative side, some in the media suggested that Smash was unfairly snubbing people who had to work for a living. Aera, in fact, ran an article early in the summer covering all three of the summer festivals and made a point about the three-day ducat rule. After praising the new dinosaur-heavy stadium fest, Rock Odyssey, the magazine quoted one man who said if he could buy tickets for only Saturday and Sunday, he'd like to go to Fuji and bring his kids, but Friday was a school day. The reporter neglected to follow up on this curious criticism: Japanese schools let out for the summer the week before Fuji started.

The three-day system benefits Smash in terms of neater bookkeeping and easier security, but not necessarily in sales: one- and two-day tickets are more profitable. But the main idea of the system has more to do with accomplishing the ultimate aim of the festival: to be a complete event and not just a series of concerts. They sold about 30,000 tickets, and almost half of the patrons (14,000) camped out.

The three-day ticket was complemented on the scheduling side by a de-emphasis on headliners. Although there were plenty of major draws at the festival, the kind of huge stars whom promoters count on to bring in a minimum number of people on a day-to-day basis were conspicuously absent. Lou Reed was the nominal headliner on Friday, but the Basement Jaxx, playing on a different stage at the same time, seemed the more popular draw. The Chemical Brothers, who headlined the second day, have played Fuji so many times they could qualify as the festival's house band. And when, several weeks ago, Morrissey canceled his headlining slot on the closing day in a fit of characteristic petulance, Smash did not elevate the White Stripes to that slot but rather hired These Charming Men, a Smiths cover band, to fill it. And they did so without announcing it. The audience, however, who would probably have preferred that Morrissey just stick to Smiths covers if he had shown up, seemed perfectly happy. There's too much good entertainment happening at Fuji to get upset about one star reneging on a promise, and the Fuji faithful know that. (P.B.)

Pleasant surprises

With music almost 24-7, it's never hard to stumble on to a new discovery at FRF

Eleanor Friedberger, the intense, hyperactive lead singer of the Fiery Furnaces, ran through 20 songs in 40 minutes without a pause on Saturday morning at the Red Marquee. The small audience was transfixed as much by her dorky Karen Carpenter aura as they were by her bottomless energy and piercing vocal power.

Runnerup: The Streets. The last time Mike Skinner played Japan he barely kept the audience within reach; this time he had them in the palm of his hand. (P.B.)

I had intended to check out the Zanen Boys; by mistake, I saw another Z band, The Zutons, at the Red Marquee and became an instant fan. They played party-ska- dance-R&B-psychedelic-whatever-rock, yet came off as true originals. With a refreshing lack of pretense and performance precision to spare, these Liverpudlians sounded like they had been playing together since they'd been in nappies. (M.T.)

Leaving Lou Reed croaking "Venus in Furs" on the Green Stage was an unpardonable sin, but once submerged in the collective booty-shake of Basement Jaxx, I never looked back. Bringing a hefty ensemble of amusing guest vocalists (several as stand-ins for famous vocalists), the Jaxx proved that dance music works both sonically and visually. (M.T.)

Band the gongs

The James Brown Playbook Award: The Blind Boys of Alabama

Like Soul Brother No. 1, these septuagenarians know the emotional value of a second wind. Leaping from their chairs, they wrenched away from their handlers (remember, they're are old and blind) to strike poses and dance toward the stage's edge before being pulled to safety. Kids don't know James Brown's stagecraft originated in the church (remember Blues Bros?), so it was good to see the Boys show everyone that gospel can get down, too. (Jason Jenkins)

Krush Groove/Bruce Lee Award: BucketHead

Smack in the middle of his set with Bill Laswell's Praxis, the freak drops his guitar, punches a boom box and starts breakdancing with nunchuks. Laswell shook his head and walked offstage for a drink. He'd seen this before. (J.J.)

Crowd-Control Award: Ozomatli . . . again

No one else coordinates dance moves for 700 sunburned drunks with such precision. They even look like security guards. Marching through the crowd banging drums and blowing whistles, Ozomatli settled in the center. Then it happened. Chanting "SIT DOWN! SIT DOWN!" the octet coerced the entire mob to the ground like dominoes, without a single injury. It didn't last, though. Once they started blasting the Japanese traditional song "Nanatsu no Ko," everyone was back on their feet screaming. (J.J.)

Best Rock 'n' Roll Posturing: the Mooney Suzuki

These guys aped MC5 and The Who so well they must study the moves on old footage like a basketball team preparing for the playoffs. It bordered on parody, but conviction seeped through the sweat. (J.J.)

Anywhere, Anytime Award: Son of Dave and Very Be Careful

These two popped up all over. Son of Dave, a one-man harmonica/beatbox powerhouse, performed everywhere from the Rookie a Go Go stage to Orange Court's forest walkway. So did Brazilian cumbia band Very Be Careful, with an amplified finale in Gaz's Rockin' Tent at Palace of Wonder. (J.J.)

Best Grasp of Old School: X-ecutioners

DJ Cam comes in second with nods to Herbie Hancock's "Rockitt" and a pubescent LL Cool J, but DJ trio X-ecutioners deconstructed classic and esoteric, pulling from Jack "Bongo" Burger and Run DMC to more obscure snippets by Wrecks in Effect and Digital Underground. (J.J.)

Rockingest Bird-watchers Award: British Sea Power

We owe them a big one. The relatively unheralded British band, who happen to be keen ornithologists, kicked off the festival on Friday morning on the main Green Stage surrounded by fake foliage, and a plastic owl and heron. At the end of their set, they fought off security guards to dive into the crowd and thus set the tone -- i.e. a great vibe -- for the whole weekend. And they proved that ornithologists rock! (S.B.)

The Summer of Love Award: The Libertines

Guitar/vocalist Carl Barat of The Libertines deserves a pint for getting the whole crowd at the Green Stage to applaud estranged band member and fellow frontman Pete Doherty. He was fired over his admitted drug abuse, but Barat has said when, or if, Doherty gets his act together, he's more than welcome back. And when The Libertines kicked into "What a Waster," only a few brain cells were required to know who he was singing about. (S.B.)

Most Interesting Instrumentation Award: Korean hard rock band Cocore's sitar; Keller Williams' mouth trumpet. (P.B.)

Glass Houses Award: Courtney Love, for telling the audience she found them "depressing." (P.B.)

Goose-bump moments

These were those ecstatic moments when the goose bumps cropped up and cooled us down . . .

Ten minutes into the Orange Court set of Fermin Muguruza and his Kontrabanda, the small group of listeners dancing madly in the rain to the Basque nationalist's manic Iberian ska was inflated by a huge influx of party people from the neighboring Field of Heaven. In less than five minutes the entire Orange Court was a roiling, shouting, leaping mass of humanity. (P.B.)

Trying to describe their significance to a generation, someone at the festival compared The Pixies to The Rolling Stones. Surely a large chunk of the audience at the Green Stage knew all the lyrics, and what indie band hasn't been by them. But seeing The Pixies finally playing in Japan was like seeing Halley's comet, a rare and precious experience. Each song brought a smile, but it was Frank Black's sweet yet evil bellowing of "Velouria" ("Even I'll adore ya") that produced the goose bumps. (M.T.)

I had goose bumps for three days solid, but if I had to pick one moment it would be the mentions of Jenny in the Red Marquee. The Killers' "Jenny was a friend of mine" and Stellastarr*'s "Jenny's coming after you/My God she'll be coming after you in the summertime" were, coincidentally, both soaring festival anthems. (S.B.)

Belgian world-rock outfit, Think of One, were well into a six-person percussion tirade when a frail-looking old lady appeared and approached the mike. She shouted something in Portugese, guitars came crashing in and she started jumping and thrashing like a teenage punk. Music may very well be the fountain of youth. (J.J.)

Two people -- Jack and Meg White -- and one big sound was all it took to blast away the muggy air around the Green Stage. But it was their intriguing interplay of expressions -- smiles, frowns, piercing gazes -- that kept our eyes transfixed to the big monitors. Shivers from "Jolene" were guaranteed, but Jack's tortured wail on "I Don't Know What to Do Myself" chilled my spine. (M.T.)

Star-gazing from the gutter

You wanna go "backstage" at Fuji Rock? No problem. It's open to everyone and it's called the Palace of Wonder. It's "guarded" by huge scrapyard-metal sculptures of mutant alien insects that tower above you and located just before the entrance gate so you don't even need a ticket to get in to Fuji's aftershow midnight-to-dawn party.

The "disco," with its mirrored entrance and mass of glitter-balls, was little more than a cattle shed once you got in there. There was sawdust on the floor, heavily made-up hip-hop girls dancing on the stage and DJs laying down heavy grooves. It was packed and intense, but the best way to bump into stars (at every corner) was to stroll around outside.

We encountered The Chemical Brothers every night (They asked us if we had any pharmaceuticals. I guess all that loud music had given them headaches, but I didn't have any aspirin to help them out); members of Jet (looking rather sober, but maybe that's got more to do with the condition I was in); the singer from The Music (What was he doing there? They didn't even play, did they?); vocalist Nic Offer from !!! (He was happy to roll around in the gravel with anyone who wanted a cuddle. I have the scars and photos to prove it); The Streets (That Mike Skinner boy was surrounded by minders so you couldn't get too close to him, but that wasn't a problem because aloofness is part and parcel of hip-hop, right?); British Sea Power (making the calling sounds of at least 38 different species of British birds to entertain their fans).

The Palace really got wondrous when the two strippers took to the casino-tent stage. Tables fell over, drinks went flying and half the crowd joined in by shedding their clothes. Later, I cornered one of these cutie honeys in a nearby bar tent and managed to secure her cell phone number, only to be later informed by numerous guys that, "They're not girls. They are men." The only response I could muster was, "So what? Nobody's perfect." (S.B.)

Speaka me language

Music speaks to everyone, but body language and a little knowledge of the native tongue work wonders. Here are a few of this year's great (and not so great) communicators:

Courtney Love shrieked "Move your #$*&@#!? a#%es!" to sluggish fans, but anyone who didn't learn English from Joe Pesci couldn't follow. Fellow troublemaker, Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, however, merely jumped behind her drummer and waved her arms. The Red Marquee ignited.

Hip-hop wunderkind Dizzie Rascal certainly has flow, and his one-armed DJ wasn't bad, either, considering. But the East London accents and slang flew over everyone's head -- including mine.

The Streets' Mike Skinner had a show-stealing dancer/rapper/vocalist who used all six Japanese words he knew for the loudest call-and-response sessions I heard all weekend. Then, channeling Donny Hathaway, they sung a soulful "Arigato gozaimasu!" to the crowd, who sang/screamed back "Doitashimashite!" in perfect pitch.

Basement Jaxx and !!! barely communicated with the crowd verbally, but with all that body language and eye contact, why bother? Must you say "Shake it!" if you provide examples? (J.J.)