A morning swim in the pool; a walk by the sea; not camping in the rain (and it sure did rain!); and of course the 'Come Into My World' nature of the event. These are the things I love about the ATP Festivals. There are of course things I don't like, such as the lack of wholesome food on site. Morrissey will certainly never be seen here as longs as the foul smell of those hotdogs dominates.

It could be said that the opening band on Friday, The Holloys, take math rock too literally: 2 (drummers) + 2 (bassists) + 1 (guitarist) = 5. But it worked, and they gave a stomping overture for what was to follow. Giant Sand, the elder statesmen of alt.country, ran through a few songs "to do with love and its ramifications", a phrase Howe Gelb wittily used to introduced more than one number. I actually enjoyed Giant Sand more than the band that followed. I had been eager to seeing Throwing Muses, but I thought they were a little pedestrian.

The same cannot be said for The Bronx however, with their heads down no nonsense shouty rock. They're not pushing the boundaries of modern music, but when they are so good at what they do, this doesn't matter. Similarly Buffalo Killers, highly skilled purveyors of bluesy rock, did nothing new but they were certainly entertaining.

One of the artists I noted as a Must See after doing my pre-festival homework on Spotify and Last.FM was Yann Tiersen, and he didn't disappoint. The multi-instrumentalist and talented arranger was bolstered by the addition of a whole troupe of musicians creating dense textures around his memorable melodies. He was my highlight of day one... until I saw Bon Iver.

Last year when The National played here they took the stage to the sound of Bon Iver's 'For Emma'. This year Bon Iver returned the compliment by walking on to The National. On record, Bon Iver's songs have an intimate understated tone, but live they are augmented by a full band. I would never have expected this band to have two drummers, or even three as was the case on 'Skinny Love'. However, the intrinsic fragility that is so deeply moving on the LP was still there, and the band played subtly, enhancing the emotion of the songs. In an age when the message from certain quarters seems to be that Retro Synth Rock is the only music the kids of 2009 want to hear, it was actually rather moving to observe essentially melancholic, bleak acoustic songs born of loss holding such a large crowd captivated.

The Whispertown 2000 got Saturday underway, with a strong set of lively alt.country. They are a musically proficient bunch, as at various times during their set each of their four members had a go on drums. Blood Red Shoes played an energetic set despite their self-confessed nerves. It was rather endearing to hear how nervous they felt to be playing the main stage after coming to ATP as paying punters on several previous occasions.

I was surprised how much I enjoyed CSS. I was even more surprised to see them using three electric guitars for much of their set, as they had never really struck me as much of a guitar band. The oddest sight of the weekend was the lead singer of The Frogs dressed as a glam crow, but that's where their pre-planning seemed to end. Their rather haphazard (probably intentionally), stop-start set, punctuated by bickering, included fragments of songs by Elton John, Oasis and Radiohead among their own.

Of the proper old school indie guitar bands, Th' Faith Healers, with their rough-edges and obvious enjoyment at playing live, and Teenage Fanclub made the biggest impression on me. I'd successfully predicted most of Teenage Fanclub's wonderful set, but it was a bonus to hear three new songs: one each written by Norman, Raymond and Gerard. Raymond's 'The Fall' I thought was particularly strong.

Wire have aged with dignity, and their set still seemed to have energy in all the right places and at the right times. I'm not convinced the same could be said of Gang Of Four however. They are still fuelled by plenty of aggression, as evidenced by the throwing to the floor of a guitar, but overall they seemed to be trying too hard to sound like a stadium band. The Breeders closed Saturday on the main stage with a well chosen selection including new tracks, seldom played songs from their back past, and fan favourites such as 'Cannonball' and their cover of 'Happiness Is A Warm Gun'. Several songs were augmented by Carrie Bradley on violin, adding an extra sweetness.

Zach Hill, the crazed avant-garde arms flailing drummer, certainly divided opinion. Some couldn't take more than 5 minutes, while others thought he was amazing. The Bronx's alter egos, Mariachi El Bronx were not quite as raucous as I might have expected given what I'd seen of their rocking incarnation the day before, but they were admirably faithful to the mariachi genre. All things are relative though, and they were still a lively bunch. The high point of their set was 'Regalame Esta Noche' for which they were joined by The Breeders, who had included a version of the song on 2008's Mountain Battles LP.

In contrast to the relative calm of The Bronx's mariachi incarnation, Tricky was actually more energetic than I would have expected, culminating in him jumping into the crowd. I fear he may have been looking for me actually. Earlier in the day I happened to wonder to a friend about the consistency of Tricky's recorded output (and "wonder" is all I can do, having not heard the past few LPs). Little did I know that Tricky was just a few metres away as I spoke. I don't think he heard me, but crikey he looked like you wouldn't want to get on his bad side.

Holy Fuck's late night psychedelic electro punk show was the pick of Saturday, with 'Lovely Allen' being one of the top tunes of the whole weekend. It illustrates how intensely they are into what they do that live they face inwards towards each other and not to the audience. But this didn't make them appear detached; it just drew us all into their world. I don't think everything went as planned. The live and programmed drums seemed to go out of synch with each another at one point. But this, along with the sight of them switching jack leads between different keyboards, much like a rock band might change guitars, only re-assured me that I wasn't just witnessing elaborate karaoke. The end of their set was a first for me: the first time I'd seen a bit of instrument-abuse where the hapless victim was not a guitar but a keyboard.

Times New Viking's succinct fuzzy punk is hardly going to be everybody's ideal start to a Sunday afternoon, but those who did come out to see them would have been forgiven for thinking it was still Saturday night and Holy Fuck had just finished. Dianogah win both the prize for Hardest to Pronounce band name and Hardest to Spell. But if you think of it as an anagram of Hog Diana, and sounding like Dire No Guh, it's easier. Just don't get me started on their latest LP title: Qhnnnl. Their music is easier to take though, creating dense post-rock textures courtesy of their dual bass assault. The Soft Pack meanwhile are a meeting of all the greatest garage rock bands you've heard. Their musical aptitude driven by an excellent drummer should see them pleasing crowds at many a festival to come.

After several years of Peel induced affection, it was a thrill to finally see Melt Banana live. They started in darkness but for head torches. Five minutes into their set came the lightning fast greeting: "Hello. We-are-Melt-Banana. From-Tokyo-Japan." At that point I wasn't sure if I'd heard five songs or one, such is the staccato nature of their start-stop noisecore. Their cover of 'Monkey Man' was fantastic. Later in the evening I went to their merchandise stall and bought everything that remained: 2 stickers.

Deerhunter played a blinder. Bradford Cox declared at the start, with a beaming grin, that he was having such a good time he was delirious. Read into that what you will. The highlight of their set was a cover of The Amps' 'Bragging Party' for which they were joined on stage by the Deal sisters. More big grins and laughter ensued as it didn't quite go to plan, but I don't think they, or us, would have had it any other way.

Before Kimya Dawson's performance, she had enjoyed talking to three young fans of hers. And being Kimya Dawson, of course the obvious thing to do was have an extra mic set up so they could stand on stage next to her throughout her gig. She has a beautiful talent for telling stories through her songs, and also between them. She almost brought a tear to my eye when recounting the previous week's trip across the USA at the request of a friend to sing at his bedside during the last 3 days of his life. Before her final song she encouraged the audience to link hands and form a huge circle. When she finished singing she left the stage, came to the middle of this ring, took the hand of one link in the chain, and started turning round on the spot to spiral the circle inwards and effect a mass hug.

I'd not seen Shellac before, but now I know what all the fuss is about. They are refreshingly nuts and they totally draw you in. They played on both Saturday and Sunday, the highlight of their Sunday set being the end: Steve and Bob dismantled Todd's drum kit bit by bit while he played it, then carried him off when there was nothing else left.

tUnE-YaRdS took to the stage late on Sunday night armed with her ukulele, drumsticks, a few things to hit, and a looping pedal. Her set was entertaining, and her multi-layered vocal wails at times reminding me of traditional Maori singing. I was keen to end the weekend by seeing Madlib and J.Rocc, but I left rather disappointed. J. Rocc came on alone to "warm up" the crowd for Madlib, and did draw people onto the dance floor, but when Madlib arrived I felt somewhat let down. I wasn't expecting a hip-hop Chomsky, but I was keen to hear what makes Madlib's tick. However, the angle of his first number was "I'm cool. Evidence: I smoke weed". Sorry, but I was hoping for something a little more insightful than that.

There were of course things that I missed, both of the musical type and extra curricular. I would have been very interested to attend Kelley Deal's knitting session, and Scarlett Thomas reading from her book The End Of Y. I would have liked to see the films at the on site cinema, and to see more of the chalet TV schedule that The Breeders had chosen. One of the programmes I did see was a documentary about Mark Everett of Eels investigating his father's work as the physicist who developed the many-worlds theory. The long and short of the theory is that everything that could possibly happen actually does, if not in our universe then another. I wish I could have applied that theory to myself this weekend.