Thanks to a mix of bands that had hits throughout the '90s, the crowd on Day Two of All Tomorrow's Parties was noticeably older--people who actually remember the '80s instead of just dressing like they were there.

And though it did rain, the drops fell mostly between sets, possibly prompting some people to venture from the main, outdoor stage to check out the lesser-known acts indoors.

Stephen Malkmus [ tickets ] & The Jicks

Though it's hard to listen to Stephen Malkmus and not drift into thinking you're hearing songs from his former band, Pavement [ tickets ], the '90s alt-music hero is steadily crafting his own body of work and seems happy to perform it. Backed by his new collective, The Jicks, and starting with songs from his most recent album, "Pig Lib," Malkmus dedicated much of his set to tunes that appeared to be new--most likely for his third album, due out in 2005--complete with working titles and plenty of improvisation. Though this gave the crowd little to sing along to, there was plenty there for long-time Malkmus fans: detached, yet advanced, guitar solos, deadpan-to-high-pitched-yelping vocals, and music-geek-friendly lyrics that sometimes make you smile ("it's the old fruit that makes wine") and sometimes really don't ("do not feed the oyster/under the cloud/he'll suck you like a seagull into the sound").

The Shins [ tickets ]

Gleeful Albuquerque band The Shins came on for the biggest crowd of the day so far (and possibly bigger than those of the Day One headliners), knowing, unlike many other performers, how to squeeze a full show within its allotted 45 minutes. Whipping through its best songs from last year's "Chutes Too Narrow," along with a few from the earlier, "Oh, Inverted World," the band let keyboardist Marty Crandall take on the job of Official Banter Maker (quoting Snoop Dogg for the "LBC" crowd and talking up each "jam"--though you knew they'd be sweet little poppy tunes), while songwriter and singer James Mercer stayed off to stage right, focusing on making his vocals as perfect as they are on the band's albums. Then, realizing after a tight, lengthy jam for "One By One All Day," that they only had seven minutes before cut-off time, the band easily stuffed together breathless versions of "So Says I," "Gone For Good," and "Turn a Square"--an amazing feat, but, after the flexibility they'd shown, hardly a surprising one.

Peaches [ tickets ]

For the people who wandered onto the Queen Mary just to get out of the rain and had never heard of Peaches, there was definitely something different in store. Peaches, they would soon find out, was not a band, but a person, and her performance was less a rock show than a tripped-out punk striptease. In little more than a bikini, Peaches (aka Merrill Nesker) jumped up on speakers, threaded her way over balcony rails, tied herself in the microphone wire, and danced along with pre-filmed, full-sized models (and later, Iggy Pop) on a screen behind her, as she screeched, rapped, and whined close to 20 songs (many with titles that can't be written here). As burly security officers trying to conceal their amusement guarded the stairs around her, she threw in nods to other artists, like the "cover" of Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation" (in which she screamed over the actual song) and an a capella version of the theme song from "Team America" (the title of which also can't be printed). Then, in an effort to get the crowd to hear the end of the Cramps' show on the competing stage, she corralled and led everyone out of the Queen Mary Pied-Piper style in a mass streaming parade into the park.

The Flaming Lips [ tickets ]

If Lou Reed's poem-songs the previous night and Peaches' crowd participation minutes earlier had set the mood for alternative performance art, the exuberant display The Flaming Lips created was a definitive ending for the theme of the festival. Starting by letting a fan propose to his girlfriend on stage (she said yes) and providing hundreds of almost dangerously oversized colored balloons to the audience, the band--complete with side stage "dancers" in panda and rabbit costumes--seemed to care less about the songs themselves and more about sending a message of peace and positive change. While still including their contribution to the "SpongeBob SquarePants" movie and a sing-along of the early-'90s hit, "She Don't Use Jelly" (not to mention the musical interlude when singer Wayne Coyne surfed the crowd in an inflated plastic bubble), the rest of the music was more of a call to arms--or, actually, a call to end arming. The stormy "Race for the Prize" started with Coyne's plea for blue-state voters to not lose heart over last week's election, the great "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots" was lengthened and again turned into a group sing, and the carpe diem anthem "Do You Realize" exploded in a multimedia extravaganza, closing the festival with all the positive energy its creators and curators surely intended.

Read liveDaily's review of Day One at All Tomorrow's Parties.