[nitpick the twitpic + fnx links] Day 2 of Coachella: Arcade Fire, Suede, Broken Social Scene, Foster the People, the desert, and a ferris wheel

It's Day 3 of Coachella, and we're not surewhat hit us yesterday. Got interviews with Brett Anderson of SUEDE and Will Butler of ARCADE FIRE, had Freelance Whales, Foals, Black Joe Lewis, Foster the People, Joy Formidable, and Mumford & Sons back at the WFNX Sapporo House, and barnstormed through the polo grounds at, uh... a barnstormers pace. Arcade Fire's late-night set on the Coachella Stage truly felt like their long-awaited Grammy's Party, and Suede showed the hipster kids a thing or two about British rock and roll. Much of the day was spent at the house, but we were allowed out of the cage for a bit to see what was up in the fairgrounds.

While we upload shit tons of video, interviews, and photos this morning (and apparently Brooklyn's Cults are about to roll into the house, which is a mess) here's a bunch of crappy twitpics from the @BostonMusicBlog twitter. Enjoy. Or don't!

Way too many fucking people up in the desert. 70,000-deep, by yesterday's count.

We stumbled out of Arcade Fire's trailer complex and right into a Broken Social Scene performance. Cool like that.

Back at the Sapporo House, Foster The People proved again that "Pumped Up Kicks" is a beast-song. We should have video of it somewhere.

Even acoustic, the Joy Formidable create a tornado of sound unlike anyone else. Again, maybe/probably definitely audio of this somewhere.

Marcus Mumford, right, is the chillest and coolest man in rock. Mumford & Sons' performance later in the day was one of those "Where You There?" Coachella moments, ruined only by the hipster girls dressed as Native Americans patting their mouths, chanting, and dancing around a made-up teepee of clothes and jackets. At least they weren't dressed like Ke$ha, for once. But really, it's weird -- I don't particularly like Mumford & Sons, but realize how fucking great they are. Strange shit, innit?

Motherfucking Suede. Greatest shit ever.

I wanted to ride this. If the day was 358 hours long instead of 24.

And finally, yeah, that's me with Brett Anderson of Suede, post-interview, giddy like a schoolgirl before the prom. So it goes.