Photo from the 2007 Virgin Mobile Festival by firegal

Virgin Mobile Festival is like the two-party system, except you can vote in the other party's primary and even change your vote mid-set. (I'm dismissing the Dance Tent the way most people dismiss third parties.) Herewith follows (with apologies to DCist Cinephile-in-Chief Ian Buckwalter) a wholly arbitrary, hardly comprehensive, but probably alphabetical listing of the acts I'm keenest to see.

Chuck Berry and the Silver Beats — He’s an 82-year-old rock legend who just walked away from a bunch of European gigs because the Olde Continent Five-oh wouldn’t indulge his love of reckless driving. They’re a Japanese Beatles tribute band that have never met him, purport to know no English aside from Beatles lyrics, and haven’t been promised a minute of rehearsal time with Berry before they join him onstage with him in front of tens of thousands of people.

I wouldn’t miss this for anything.

The Black Keys — You know, I’m getting mighty tired of defending Meg White to you people. There’s nothing wrong with her drumming, even if it’s not to your taste. If she couldn’t pull her weight musically, she’d be right out of the band. Wait, what? Oh, they're a different group. Sure. You kids think that just because I’m over 30 now, you can make me believe anything. And you’re probably right.

Never seen ‘em. I hope they rock as hard as advertised.

Bob Dylan — Look, my expectations are not high here. Much as I love my Bootleg Series live albums — especially the Rolling Thunder Revue one from 1975 — I know that Dylan, who has long held a reputation as a wildly erratic live performer, has become more consistent in recent years, and not in a good way. I was supposed to see Dylan in 1999, but there was weather and I got stuck in traffic on my way to Nissan Pavilion and I missed the show. Thankfully, Nissan improved their access routes after that and the problem never happened again.

But: Dylan’s last three studio albums have been among the best things he’s ever done. I’m hoping for the best. Paying my respects to the towering genius that wrought "Visions of Johanna" at the North Stage means missing the reunited Stone Temple Pilots to the South. You'd think that would be a tough call, given that I was in high school in 1993, but not really. Then again, Velvet Revolver were the guilty pleasure of the festival for me last year, so I'm open to being seduced by STP.

Lupe Fiasco: — I confess, I stayed away from his 9:30 show in January because I was afraid it might not start until 1:30 in the morning. I haven't spent much time with this year's The Cool, but I liked his 2006 debut Food & Liquor plenty. I’ll probably bolt a little early to get into position for Sharon Jones, though.

Foo Fighters — I’ll admit, a dozen or so hits and six or seven albums later, that maybe Dave Grohl has something going on, and he isn’t just another drummer grown too big for his britches. Prince thought he was worth covering at the Super Bowl last year; maybe I’ll give Grohl another chance. Actually, I'm positive I will, because the Foos' North Stage competition Saturday night is ... Jack Johnson. Not even the fact that I spent four years living just a short drive down the 101 from Santa Barbara, where the esteemed composer of Sing-A-Longs & Lullabies for the Film Curious George began his mellow reign of laid back musical terror, could make me sit still for this shoeless clown.

Iggy and the Stooges — But of course. Was there e'er an album more badass than the Stooges' 1970 Fun House? A: Yes, in fact. The Stooges' 1973 Raw Power. Their North Stage set starts the minute L'il Wayne's South Stage set ends, so I'll get some running in.

Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings — She sounded good at the Black Cat back in December; I can’t say how she looked, since the Black Cat stage does un-tall people no favors. She’ll get a better height boost this time. Fun fact: Jones once worked as a prison guard at New York's infamous Ryker's Island Penitentiary. If the crowd gets out of hand, maybe she'll dive in and give the security staff an assist, just like Axl Rose used to to do.

This will be another runner; from Lupe this time.

Nine Inch Nails — I haven’t followed the apparently very involved storyline of Trent Reznor’s Year Zero album/online role-playing game. I just hope his set is exciting for the 25 minutes it’ll be on for before it’s time for Kanye to deliver his own sci-fi themed show. NIN is Blade Runner to Kanye's Star Trek -- NIN stays with a decaying, totalitarian Earth, while Kanye, ladies and gentlemen, is floating through space.

The Swell Season — It's probably time to stop thinking of them as the little duo that could, but I’m still rooting for the Once kids to crush V-Fest with their plaintive guitar-and-piano balladry the way Regina Spektor crushed it with her plaintive piano balladry last year -- just like they crushed the Oscars. Not quite two years ago, back when even blog-reading music people had no idea who Glenn Hansard was, I mistook him for Damien Rice. Hey, they’re both Irish, and Rice doesn’t really put photos of himself on his albums. Anyway, he’d probably have me killed if I did that now. How many Oscars does Damien Rice have on his mantle?

Li'l Wayne — His appearance at V-Fest this weekend might delay the release of his latest mix tape until Monday. He's moving more units than anybody these days despite giving away a ton of music for free.

Kanye West — Gentlemen of distinction have reported that his Nissan show the night before the great Radiohead Rain-Out of Double-Aught-Eight was mindblowing. Here's my mind, Kanye. Blow it.

Wilco — I’ve seen Wilco play a half-dozen times, and with the exception of the first of their two 9:30 shows last February, I always thought they were a lot more humorless than they needed to be. Then again, this band is a lot less fun to listen to since they fired Jay Bennett, so maybe it's less fun to be in, too. For Jeff Tweedy to pull on a Cubs uniform and lead the Wrigley Field crowd in singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” during the Seventh-Inning Stretch is a big step in the right direction. Not that I’m implying there is anything at all funny about the Chicago Cubs.

The verdict: I'm off to see Chuck Berry after half an hour of Wilco. Less if they open with a slew of songs from Sky Blue Sky.