Leonard Cohen and Franz Ferdinand's Alex Kapranos

THE BEST:

Best Set: Leonard Cohen
How fitting that Leonard Cohen's performance of "Hallelujah," his most famous song, would still come as a glorious shock. After all, that's what the melody does: It seeps into your heart and lies dormant -- then erupts as pure emotion. The set was tenderly elegant (brocade rugs and red velvet chairs!), but nothing could distract from Cohen, 75 and beaming, tipping his fedora to a misty-eyed crowd of all ages and roaming the stage like Sinatra, depthless baritone still in terrific form. Artists one-third his age couldn't have culled the ferocity of "First We Take Manhattan" or the heartrending, unadorned lament of "Everybody Knows." And still, when the keys kicked up the first strains of "Hallelujah," those ascending notes led a seismic reaction -- offstage, as an ecstatic audience sang every word back in hymnal, and onstage, where Cohen removed his hat and peered out into audience with reverent, brimming tears. -- Stacey Anderson

Best Personality: Morrissey
It's a strange feeling to be walking away from Leonard Cohen singing "Hallelujah," but Morrissey quickly erased any regrets. Even with a Beatle on the bill, Moz was Coachella Day One's biggest personality. Slinking across the stage, flicking his mic cord like a lariat, complaining about the smell of cooking meat, and singing both Smiths classics (e.g., "This Charming Man," "Girlfriend in a Coma," "Some Girls are Bigger than Others") and sterling newer material (an epic, especially angry "Irish Heart, English Blood") Steven Patrick Morrissey turned a crowd of 50,000 plus into supplicants. And when the 49-year-old ripped off his blue floral-patterned shirt during "How Soon Is Now?" to reveal the pudgy stomach underneath, you can be sure more than a few people felt as if an answer to that song's titular question had arrived. -- David Marchese

Best Encore: Paul McCartney
The rumors of a Beatles “reunion” were frantic: Dhani Harrison (George's boy/doppleganger) was playing Saturday with his new band thenewno2 -- and Ringo was spotted at the Palm Springs Airport. Anyway, it didn't happen, but McCartney defied expectations in a few ways -- he didn't open with a Beatles tune ("Jet," actually), didn't play "Maybe I'm Amazed," and he focused on tunes from his mid-era solo albums, as well as his Fireman side-project. He interspersed a few feedback-heavy Liverpudlian nods -- "Drive My Car, "The Long and Winding Road," a churning cover of Big Joe Turner's "Honey Hush" -- and jammed on "Purple Haze" with the Harlequin novel-coiffed backing musicians. It was a fun set, though an emotional day for Macca; as he told the cooing mainstage audience, April 17 was the 11th anniversary of his wife Linda's passing.

Unfortunately, some of the audience split after an hour and a half, just in time for Macca to toss in "Back in the USSR," a left-field White Album choice, as well as another hour of Beatles hits, including that near-religious torch duo of "Let It Be" and "Hey Jude." "There's no way he'll play 'Helter Skelter' or 'Birthday' or 'Yesterday' or 'The End,'" sighed a friend earlier in the day. Well, he did 'em all in the nine-song all-Beatles encore. Way to go, Macca -- carry that weight, and then some. -- SA

Most Welcome Appearance of Women: Los Campesinos!
Let's hear it for the ladies. When Harriet (violin), Ellen (bass), and Aleksandra (keyboards) Campesinos took the stage in the smallish Gobi tent at 4:20 P.M., they were the first women musicians I'd seen all day. And not to be reductive or sexist or whatever, but there's a different, better, vibe when girls and guys are playing together -- especially when they're detonating a series of utterly charming, sugar rushing, glockenspiel-sprinkled self-reflexive pop songs. Despite some sound problems (a recurring issue at the festival's Gobi Tent) these seven Welsh moppets brought a welcome blast of unisex good vibes to a festival that, until then, had been a bit of, shall we say, a sausage fest. -- DM

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Best Lemons-into-Lemonade: The Courteneers
Manchester's the Courteneers were the first band up on the main stage, and they launched into their Oasis-influenced Brit-pop while the crowd was still trickling in and those already onsite were more concerned with locating bathrooms and beer gardens than hearing music. But even before a smattering of half-interested listeners, the quartet turned in a half hour of pub-ready choruses and taut guitars that was far more spirited than it needed to be. Both Franz Ferdinand's Alex Kapranos and Girl Talk's Greg Gillis were impressed enough to watch from the sidestage. Here's betting that the next time the Courteneers play Coachella, the band's work won't be done while the sun's still up. --DM

Best Blues-Rock Phenom: Ryan Bingham
I only caught the last few songs of his set, and by the time Ryan Bingham walked offstage, I was kicking myself for not having heard more. There's nothing particularly original about the scrawny 25-year old New Mexican's bottleneck blooze stomps, but he played them with a muscular swagger that belied both his age and background (no white boy cheese for this hombre). Former Black Crowes guitarist Marc Ford produced Bingham's debut disc, Mescalito, and the connection makes sense -- Bingham rasps and moans like a young Chris Robinson. That he also tears screaming guitar lines from his axe, which looks like it was put together from cardboard and Krazy glue, makes him, technically speaking, a bad motherfucker. -- DM