Frequent You R Here contributor Jami made it from Wisconsin to Lollapalooza last weekend and sent us several shots, including this one that has her posing in the harsh light of day with “Time to Pretend” rockers MGMT.

Check out all of Jami’s uploads at yourhere.mtv.com…

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The end is upon us here on the final day of Lollapalooza. I haven’t looked at the actual temperature, but my body is telling me today is the hottest day. This doesn’t bode well for me since today is my earliest day, because I had to catch Austin, Texas’ awesome instrumental band the Octopus Project.

The Octopus Project’s music consists of rockin’ jams with a background of some “Mario Bros.”-esque synthesizer action. I first thought I had walked onto the comedy act of Dane Cook when the first thing the group said is that shouting is not an appropriate answer to “How you doin’ today?” Instead, they wanted us to answer, “Fantastic, thanks for asking!” I was excited to see everyone really enjoying their set, because they won over a lot of fans.

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I first have a disclaimer to note before I dive into my review of the Radiohead portion of Lolla. First, I hate it when someone says a band’s show is awesome, due to the fact that they never go to shows and don’t even know what awesome is. Second, I hate when people say a band did an awesome show just because the band is really good. No matter how talented, any band can have a bad show.

One last thing to note is that I really dig Radiohead but I by no means worship them to the extent that most people do. Furthermore, In Rainbows was a good, solid album but I wouldn’t call it the album of the year for 2007 like damn near everyone did.

With that said, you are about to read an honest, unbiased review of Radiohead.

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You don’t come to a festival like Lollapalooza for the purest musical experience. For that you’re better off spending the dough on intimate club gigs to which only fan club members have access.

No, you come to them for the completely random, ecstatic moments that occur when thousands of people are gathered together to listen to more music in one day than their brains can possibly process. And when the artists onstage are fully aware of that, they do their best to Entertain with a capital E.

The winner of Friday’s most random, ecstatic moment, and everyone within a 100-yard radius of her would agree, was the girl who decided that the best seat in the house for Radiohead was atop the speaker stand, about half a mile from the stage. Those things are built like ladders, and when the “security guards” (20-year-old, very hesitant girls) turned their heads, our heroine shimmied up, and within seconds was grooving in her own little world, seemingly oblivious to anyone’s cheers or pleas for her to get down.

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God I love the Black Keys. I don’t know how it occurred to me, but had they been hot in the ’90s they could’ve sold a million “Got Keys?” shirts.

I knew the Black Keys were relatively popular for an “underground” band, but I didn’t realize how popular. You would’ve thought they were the only band playing at the time when thousands showed up at the North Stage to see them (many showing up well over an hour early to secure a good spot). Oddly, there was a sign-language interpreter during their set. Not to be rude, but if you’re deaf why would you come here? Anyway, she was rockin’ some air bass, which is ironic considering the Black Keys are only a guitar-and-drum duo, hence no bass.

I would’ve never thought two grungy white guys could channel Jimi Hendrix so well into modern-day music. I highly suggest that Harmonix make a Black Keys track pack for “Rock Band” — the bassist can just drink a beer in the meantime. Also, Patrick rocked out on the drums with a freakin’ tambourine, which I’ve never witnessed by any other band.

The banter was limited from the duo, but they did note that they were neighbors with Chicago since they are from Ohio, and proclaimed, “I’ve never been in a mosh pit before. I think I would get f—ed-up in a mosh pit.” This was my first time to see the Black Keys, because they always somehow manage to come to my town when I have anything from a friend’s b-day to go to or even a graduation to go to.

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The Windy City is not living up to its name. It’s hot with zero clouds and only a slight hint of a breeze here on day one of Lollapalooza.

Unfortunately, my day started late due to the necessity of sleep from watching the 1 a.m. showing of “The Dark Knight” (every other showing had been sold out for days). Anyway, this was actually my first time to see the Go! Team live. They did not disappoint. I hate to be cliché, but I highly prefer their first album, and luckily for me they played a good balance of new and old songs.

There is nothing more awkward and entertaining than watching thousands of white people (and a few dozen black people) dancing to “Ladyflash.” The white-man shuffle seemed to be the preferred move. You know the one where you keep trading your weight between your left and right foot while snapping your fingers, flailing your arms or mimimg the scratching of a turntable. I even saw a few people attempting Seth Rogen’s “dice throw” move from “Knocked Up” (that is so last year and almost as bad as shouting “I’m Rick James, bitch!”).

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I just took a look at the schedule again. I will likely be seen running rampant around the festival going to various stages. I also have some hard decisions to make on who I see when there are multiple awesome bands playing at the same time.

Sunday is the worst. Too many bands to choose between: Gnarls Barkely or Girl Talk? The Black Kids or Lupe Fiasco or the Raconteurs? NIN or Kanye West?

I’ve already decided that I will be saying goodbye to the festival with NIN on Sunday night instead of Mr. Kanye West. It will be the biggest bummer to miss Obama if the rumors reign true and he introduces Kanye. If people know what NIN has in store for them, I’m sure I won’t be alone in shunning Kanye on Sunday.

Kanye tells you (and Entertainment Weekly) that his show is amazing, spectacular, etc. But … NIN have been giving people their money’s worth for a lot longer than Kanye.

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Iggy Pop wasn’t the only rocker to nearly bite the big one this afternoon: Peter Morén of Peter, Bjorn and John narrowly avoided a self-inflicted frontal lobotomy Sunday afternoon when he tried to greet some of his adoring fans.

Minutes into “The Chills” — the third song of the band’s set — the power to the stage cut out. The music — well, drummer John Eriksson continued to pound his kit, but it was barely audible — stopped dead. While workers toiled to try and restore power, Morén strolled up to the front of the stage and tried to jump down onto a platform about four feet from the ground. I’m not sure why, but he missed by a country mile, instead landing feet-first in a large, red garbage can filled with ice, freezing water, and bottles of Smart Water. As he did this, the garbage can tipped forward, dropping all of the water and ice onto the blacktop. Oh yeah, and Morén too; his head, literally coming within inches of the barricade in front of the stage.

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There are certain sure things when you see Iggy Pop perform, with the Stooges or Stoogeless. He will dump copious amounts of water on his head; hump a speaker (or two, perhaps more than once); roll on the stage; invite dozens of kids up to sing along to a Stooges song; and, invariably, lose his pants and expose some part of his six-decades-old private bits.

Shockingly, for the first time in all the many times I’ve seen Iggy, his impossibly low-rise jeans stayed put during the Stooges’ entire set. I can’t say I was disappointed, but I was a bit scared for the man who has cheated death more times than Velvet Revolver and all of Mötley Crüe. After barreling through death-rattle punk-blues takes on “1969,” “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and “TV Eye,” Pop, who introduced the band as the “f—ing Stooges” and said he was glad to be at Lollapapalooza, invited the kids up for “No Fun.”

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There are definitely some flashy characters here at Lollapalooza. I’ve seen dudes dressed up like cats, others dressed like Mexican wrestlers, à la “Nacho Libre,” and men who seem to be taking cues from Lolla founder Perry Farrell, by wearing ultra-tight women’s shirts with plunging necklines — the kind you’d find at Mandee.

Everywhere you turn, you see folks keeping cool with small paper fans, baring the logos of some of today’s performers, and these little orange battery-powered fans, emblazoned with Lolla sponsor AT&T’s logo. Remnants of these devices can be found all across the Grant Park grounds, shattered and dismembered from trampling feet.

One of the more annoying things about Lollapalooza — something that truly could not be avoided — is the presence of these little green gnats everywhere, which get stuck to your sweaty arms and legs, to the rims of your sunglasses, and your sunblock-covered face. This hadn’t been a problem before today, but last night’s rains must have stirred them out of their hiding places. If only I had some freakin’ bug spray.