Over 100 music acts and 75,000 people converge in the middle of the California desert. It could only be a mirage.

Incorrect. This is the Coachella Music and Arts Festival, a three-day event on the Empire Polo Club grounds near Palm Springs, and what attendees would term the most "epic" music event of the year.

The 2010 festival represents a sea change in the event's artistic direction. In the past, Coachella banked on baby-boomer safeties like Paul McCartney, but this year the lineup shined with contemporary headliners like Vampire Weekend, Muse and Gorillaz. The weekend's show-stopper, Jay-Z, dipped into his extensive catalogue, but he still comes off as young, especially with surprise backup from Beyoncé.

This was also the first year in which single-day tickets were scrapped in favor of high-dollar three-day passes. The switch produced an overwhelmingly enthusiastic crowd that consistently filled the open-air stages and desert-titled tents to the brim.

I arrived at the festival on noon Friday. Forlorn hipsters stood outside the festival gates flashing peace signs, which I soon realized is sign language for, "I need two tickets."

Despite the marooned quality of the Coachella Valley, festival goers hailed from as far as Australia, the United Kingdom and all corners of the United States. In the three-stage drug check that concert goers must traverse, I overheard an attendee exclaim to a new friend, "I live near the intersection of Montrose and Westheimer, too!"

After a thorough substance search, I set up tent and headed to a near-empty festival. The small crowds on Friday afternoon could be blamed on either the workweek or an awkward performance by a washed-up Wale (nobody wants a hip-hop sing-a-long to Kings of Leon). The afternoon's savior turned out to be Brooklyn-based Sleigh Bells, whose female vocalist Alexis Krauss screams lyrics with the energy of a 2004-era Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Sleigh Bells' album debut on Coachella-vet M.I.A.'s boutique label hasn't even leaked yet, but the raucous beats were received gleefully by an increasingly less sober crowd. At the next tent, Yeasayer outdid the previous week's performance at Houston's House of Blues. Chris Keating's drama-rama singing style can become grating, but Houstonians recognized indie dreamboat Anand Wilder's signature camo bodysuit.

The biggest disappointment of Friday arrived via indie movie starlet Zooey Deschanel, whose position at the Outdoor Stage allowed her off-tune crooning to spill across Southern California. Out of tune guitars and bad covers put her teammate M. Ward to shame.

Coachella's commercial power

With such a tightly-packed schedule of hot acts, conflicts sometimes arise — I skipped out on LCD Soundsystem to catch Echo & the Bunnymen after a friend persuaded, "Ian McCulloch could die any day now! I mean, look at him."

My dedication to New Wave nostalgia paid off in a front-line position for the following act, Vampire Weekend. Although Vampy left off their recent album's titular track, their live performance's closeness to the recorded version attests to the Ivy Leaguers' craftsmanship.

Saturday got off to a fairly slow start, as Frightened Rabbit is marooned in a volcano-freaked Europe, but luckily other mammal-named bands like Porcupine Tree and White Rabbits held their ground. Since so many of Coachella's acts are of the overly self-conscious indie variety, a performance by "shit-rock" band Coheed & Cambria with special guests, the University of Southern California's marching band, offered a moment of comic relief.

Once I heard that Beyoncé's sister Solange would not cover the Dirty Projectors, I head to see Brits The xx, which I formerly had only known as hipster-cred-earning, make-out music. The open stage did not do justice to their intimate sound, but still, putting a warped English face to the churning voices was well worth it. Saturday night unfurled into a series of ecstasy-infused dance parties fueled by such DJs as Tiësto and David Guetta (the latter's only self-sung words were the throbbing phrase, "I'm David Guetta, bitch!")

After a fruitless search for cell phone service, I spent much of Sunday solo, allowing me to discover Owen Pallett (also associated with Final Fantasy, Arcade Fire and Beirut). By far the weekend's surprise stunner, Pallett made his act more accessible by including drums and a guitar, but his radiant violin range took center stage.

Sadly, Texas' indie stalwarts Spoon lured fewer crowds as guests camped out for a better view of Phoenix. The Parisians' act was a bit more lo-fi since their lighting designer was also Eyjafjallajokull-struck, but the brilliant sunset behind the desert palms and Santa Rosa mountains provided a stunning lighting show in itself.

Coachella's closing acts — a reunited Pavement and the animated performance of Gorillaz — most embodied the weekend's aura. The former's inclusion represented the festival's now decade-long dedication to excellence in independent music, while the Gorillaz sum up the event's enduring eclecticism. Coachella symbolizes many things for many musical acts, from long-anticipated '90s bands reuniting, to newer acts "making it."

A year ago, Phoenix had not been featured in Cadillac commercials, The xx were yet to be the opening number for the Vancouver Winter Olympics, and power poppers Passion Pit hadn't even released a full-length album. But if hipster hindsight serves us correctly, 2010 will prove to be both the most talent-rich and market-predicting Coachella festival to date.

Watch Beyoncé cameo during Jay-Z's performance here: