This Sunday at Coachella was a good day. We ran around early on in the day to catch Angel Olsen, The Orwells, Panda Bear and country crooner Sturgill Simpson (fresh from a show the night before at Buck Owens' Crystal Palace in Bakersfield, so you know he's legit). Some of us caught Built to Spill and some of us finally rode the fest's Ferris wheel, which, we must admit, was pretty magical. Jenny Lewis sung to us sweetly in the afternoon, bringing Haim onstage for "Girl on Girl" in a thinly veiled message to Goldenvoice that ladies continue to be under-represented at the fest. After a pop-up dinner by the Gadarene Swine and Scratch Bar in the VIP area (Friday's diners got a little screwed by logistics...), we split our time between St. Vincent and Stromae, both of whom put on strong performances. Fitz & the Tantrums used every trick in the book to convince the audience they were worthy headliners, but we still weren't sold, confetti and all. Also, Florence Welch was one stage over, belting out her hits and running around in her bra, so... David Guetta welcomed the Black Eyed Peas as his special guests, but the real surprise of the night was Drake's performance. He commandeered the stage like a pro, performing shortened versions of his many (so many?!) hits and shouting out to his mama, his friends and his city, Toronto. And then, after waiting all weekend for a special guest worthy of Coachella lore, we watched as Madonna swept onstage, performed about a minute and a half of music, and planted a wet one on Drake, who was just so not into it. She left as quickly as she arrived, with a quick "I'm Madonna"—as if there were any question. Drake recovered and finished his set on a strong note, though for all the talking and thanking he did, we were a bit surprised that he didn't mention Madonna at all post-makeout. But, fireworks! A good fest finale, and a good fest overall.