The festival has fast become an essential for London’s scenesters, and this year delighted with a diverse range of artists on show in the May sunshine.

Wide Awake made its return last weekend in glorious sunshine for a day packed with an eclectic, international set of some of the most exciting live acts out there at the moment. Perhaps as a legacy of the post-Brexit pop/Windmill scene celebration that was its first year, it has a unique reputation as a communal celebration of all that movement in British music has achieved in recent years. As such, it is a joyously social day, with many festival alumni and acts-in-waiting out to join the fun. As its reputation and appeal has grown, Wide Awake’s organisers ­– some of London’s top promoters at Bad Vibrations, LNZRT and SC&P – have steered it towards something bigger. The knowing coup that brought Caroline Polacheck in as the main headliner and the recognition of the pop magic of Shygirl and the softboy significance of Alex G is typical of the festival’s open-minded, up-to-the-minute approach. Though some sound issues tarnished the indie perfection of the lineup, this was a great day out.

As the gates were opened and the sniffer dogs unleashed, Mary in the Junkyard played us in, smashing through their set on the Windmill stage. Naima Bock opened the main stage in style. Her set remains rooted in the songs of her debut solo album ‘Giant Palm’ but evolves every time with new songs and updated renditions of the oldies. Photographer Holly Whitaker joined on backing vocals for a few songs, a nice addition to a band light of the string section that were on hand for last year’s album tour.

Lingering in the grass and sunshine at the main stage for a sun cream break while some caved in to the first of many indelicately priced Brewdogs, we were intrigued to see what Blondshell had to offer. Taking the stage in white turtleneck and shades, she looked the part of L.A. rocker promised by heady singles ‘Sepsis’ and ‘Joiner’. We were a little underwhelmed by the total effect, with the live arrangements only serving to underscore the debt of her sound and instincts to 90s alt rock royalty.

Taking a more up-to-date approach to guitar music were Model/Actriz, whose sudden ascent to must-see status was cemented by a sold out Lexington headline last week. Tucked away on the smallest stage, they drew a lake of heads all keen to hop to their punk rock take on dance… or was it a dance rock take on punk?

Back on the main stage, Pakistan-via-Brooklyn artist Arooj Aftab was a healthy contrast, slowing things down with her blend of Hindustani classical, folk and jazz. Though she commented that her music was best experienced at 3am one or two bottles of wine in, this mid-afternoon billing seemed blissfully set, the heat of the sun reducing most of the audience to reclining bodies in the grass while her glacial lyrics wafted across the park.

As the options of great bands to see swelled, we took a quick stop into the Moth Club stage to check out Tirzah. Arriving late, we arrived to the performer elusively smothered in smoke, and unfortunately the music was similarly indistinguishable. Evidently this was more the fault of the sound system than the artist, and the set continuing to feel like a sound check as mics persistently whined with feedback. The music was reduced to vocal noise with little audible music save for a rattling drum machine. The effect was not dissimilar to standing on one’s head underwater. Along with other doubters, we ducked out.

Gearing up on the main stage was Alex G. Though known to most as the influential, prolific indie singer-songwriter, I did gloriously overhear one person being gently let down by a friend having mistakenly prepared for a Jamie T gig. Though he led with an endearingly countrified run of tunes, we were keen to get back to Moth Club Stage in good time for Jockstrap.

An introductory DJ set from Lynks, whose headphones wedged beneath a suitably ostentatious fluffy hat, prepared the scene. Jockstrap’s set was rapturous, with a true fervour to the roaring crowd. It is so righteous the way the duo build to such intensity before Ellroy whips out the violin to add the final layer of madness, sweeping out the final layer while the audience flails. Unfortunately, the band cannot play ‘The City’ to close every show… yes, it would become unreasonable, but I would love it every time; nonetheless this was a fabulous performance.

At the end of the afternoon there was time to lean into the haze of the afternoon, with room to dip into the sweat of Viagra Boys before grabbing some dinner (so many food options and so little time). Faced with an early evening clash, I opted for the fresh experience of Shygirl against Black Country, New Road, having seen the latter before. Reports of delays to the set and some kind of beef started with Osees perhaps vindicate that decision, though everyone who was there testified to an emotional greatness about the performance. Shygirl was a little more immediate, combining pop kitsch with serious floor-filling beats. Our party were interested to see what the sign language for coochie would be. (A word here for the outstanding main stage performances from the sign language team side stage and on the big screens. Not only is their feature commendably inclusive, they also routinely competed with the acts themselves with the vitality put into their performances.) Though an entertaining performance, its full potential was restricted once more by wanting sound. For a newcomer to her music, it was difficult to properly lose myself in it.

Then came the big decision of the day between the triad of compelling headliners. The electronica kids headed, as is usually the case at festivals, for the tent, where Daniel Avery was playing. I was torn between the shining pop of Caroline Polacheck and the time-honoured psych rapids of Osees. The mood (and perhaps also my supply of tequila) decided on Osees, a move vindicated by a masterful hour-and-a-half long set. The band tore through a run of greatest hits including early showstopper ‘The Dream’, their dual drummers creating a rippling storm as they ran neck and neck. Some lost stamina or opted for the best of both worlds and headed for Polacheck, but a sizeable hardcore held on through the blaze right to the end.

This festival is right on the pulse of London’s diverse alternative scene, representing an impressive amount of its range of exports and obsessions (a lack of jazz suggested it’s impossible to do it all – especially with Cross the Tracks on the next day). It is no surprise that Wide Awake has rapidly become the festival on everyone’s lips, a defining feature of the summer in the capital. Teething problems persist with the sound quality (this issue Brockwell Live as a whole), but on a sunny bank holiday weekend in London, there is no other place worth being.