Beacons, annual arts and music festival cushioned in hills, sheep and more hills, this year proved its greatness with festival goers enduring the remains of a hurricane and still managing to make it a huge success.

Nestled in the Yorkshire Dales just like Emmerdale, the site is a quick taxi ride from Skipton station and surrounded by postcard views. Everyone is smiling and despite the looming grey clouds there are overwhelming feelings of excitement, involvement and fun. Walking past ‘Campling Plus’ I cast an envious gaze over the luxurious ‘glamping’ style tipis, particularly as it starts to spit, but as I get closer to the general camping the buzz starts to reach me and I pitch up next to some rowdy guys playing unknown but alluring beats through some dodgy speakers and head out to see my first act of the weekend, Sheffield two piece Nai Harvest.

Welcomed with the warmth of bodies to the well packed Noisey tent, they play through a stream of their best songs including ‘Buttercups’, ‘Rush’ and ‘Hold Open My Head’, kicking the festival off with their bouncy and melodic guitar. For the last song a topless happy man joins the duo onstage to sing a line and have a quick, well received dance before he is ushered away by security and Nai Harvest leave the stage to enjoy the rest of the festival. 

I spotted the Churros Van a mile off and despite the fantastic range of food vendors which included the amazing Bundobust, Red’s True BBQ and Dough Boys Pizza, my first stop is at Senor Churros for a fix of piped donut goodness. Despite better judgement regarding the waist line, I head to another food stall, this time, I go for Haloumi Bites and I am punished with a Wasp sting that burns as much as the molten, freshly fried cheese. Itchy and painful leg, there is only one thing I can think of to cure it before I head off to catch DZ Deathrays…A milkshake, and guess what, Beacons can provide.

The Australian thrash pop power duo bash out an impressive set of rain inducing, thunderous riffs including those of catchy favourite, ’Gina works at Hearts’ to an upbeat crowd of hardy Beaconers as the showers turn into downpours. I dash back to the campsite to grab a jumper and my tent is home to a puddle, a big tent sized puddle. Everything is soaked, and I am now ‘that person’ who's pretty, pop-up tent is not up to scratch. Sadly this was the end of my Weekend at Beacons as I had to retreat home to sleep, left my purse somewhere along the way and was inflicted with a terrible cold, but the rest of the festival went on, powering through the storms with barely a hiccup.

Congratulations to all those who survived the mighty Beacons, as sadly I did not and will have to try again next year just like a sorry X-factor contestant.

Owl John stuns a packed crowd of devoted fans with a career-spanning show at Oslo in Hackney.

Following a busy schedule which included a tour of California and the release of debut self-titled album, Scott Hutchison of Frightened Rabbit is relaxed as he enters the stage. It’s immediately clear that this isn’t a usual gig, but instead Hutchison is at ease and happy to be playing solo. In a jovial mood, he chats his way through an unplanned but hit-laden set which delights the crowd from start to finish.

After kicking off with debut Owl John single ‘Hate Music’, Hutchison announces that the plan for the evening is to take joint responsibility in deciding what is played. Suggestions of songs are encouraged, and given special attention if they come with a drink. He giggles, “Of course I’ll play ‘The Wrestle’ for a whiskey.”

What follows is a run through much-loved tracks such as 'State Hospital', 'The Woodpile', 'Modern Leper' and 'Poke'.

Suddenly the queue at the bar is bigger than ever because we’re told that the price would be greater for ‘Snake’, the tongue in cheek fan favourite from Frightened Rabbit’s debut album. Notoriously hating the track, Hutchison says he’s going to have to be drunk to play it. It’s not long until his first Jägerbomb arrives from the crowd. An hour and many drinks later ‘Snake’ is played. Mission accomplished.

Playing for nearly two hours without a setlist, it’s hard to not feel stirred as the crowd shout their favourite Frightened Rabbit songs in hope. This is what musicians of Hutchison’s ilk should aspire to. The fact that his distinctively troubled voice and delicate use of a single electric guitar sound magnificent is essentially a bonus of what is a brilliantly entertaining show anyway.

The only drawback is when the familiarities between performer and audience leads to over-excitement, with some in the crowd incessantly shouting during songs. Hutchison, as cool as you like, reacts perfectly. Turning to them, he says that he originally sought to start a band for “depressed beardy guys, but then having been in the charts, it’s unavoidable that the lads come out.” He concludes, “Basically I’m telling you to shut up.” The crowd cheers then falls deadly silent as he fulfils the wish of an early Frightened Rabbit fan in playing ‘Square 9’.

Hutchison cherry-picks some Owl John tracks such as ‘A Good Reason To Grow Old’ and ‘Los Angeles Be Kind’, underlining the strength of his debut release as they fit seamlessly with his more established back catalogue.

As a venue Oslo is massively welcoming; with acoustics perfectly complimenting Hutchison’s distinct voice. The highlight of the performance is ‘Old Old Fashioned’ which is a textbook sing-along for the animated crowd, who, having acted as backing singers throughout the set, could finally take their turn in sharing lead vocals.

As Hutchison staggers off the stage (he had been convinced to play Snake after all), and the crowd disperses, there is not a person leaving who’d not felt a pang of sentiment at one of Hutchison’s beautifully morose tracks. The performance was an absolute delight, and other artists should take heed. It’s a brave move to break down that barrier at the end of the stage, especially with an album to flog, but Scott Hutchison is Owl John because he needed to go back to his roots and clear his head away from Frightened Rabbit. If he has to endure several free drinks along the way then so be it.

It is usually the case that, as Rebellion weekend rolls around, the Underworld in Camden commiserates those southerners who couldn’t afford the trip to Blackpool with a solid few nights of punk gigs in their dingy underground rock music haven. For some reason that didn’t materialise this year, but Wednesday night’s line up still took the edge off of not spending my weekend working out creative ways to sneak booze in to the Winter Gardens. Boston street punk mainstays the Street Dogs and East Coast hardcore punk originators Reagan Youth were the established half of the bill, while upstart Oi! was provided by Vancouver’s Bishops Green and London’s East End Riot. Unfortunately missing East End Riot, we do get to admire their ‘Hipsters Suck Dick’ stickers which adorn more than one surface by the time we get inside to find Bishops Green launching all guns blazing into a set of raucous but tight-as-fuck street punk. This is punk music that’s aware of its roots, taking influence as it does from bands like The Business and the Cockney Rejects, but injecting that with a healthy dose of 80s style hardcore for extra speed and power. They have no problems getting people moving down the front here with their brand of fun, no frills punk rock, I’m fully backing them as ones to watch!

The numbers thin out and become more subdued after this, which is a shame as Reagan Youth give it their all but can’t seem to whip up the crowd. Guitarist Paul Cripple is clearly in charge, guiding his band through song changes with forceful hand gestures like some kind of punk rock composer. They are clearly enjoying themselves on stage with no fucks given about whether the crowd is apathetic or not, throwing mock rock star poses for the cameras and grinning their way through a set which encompasses both previous releases as well as a couple of songs from their upcoming and apparently final album. Personally, I’m stoked to hear songs like ‘Any Town’, ‘Degenerated’ and ‘I Hate Hate’ in a live setting. We head outside for some fresh air and street beers and by the time we get back inside the crowd has grown substantially in preparation for headliners the Street Dogs. Strains of The Pogues’ ‘A Pistol for Paddy Garcia’ waft through the air as the group take to the stage and immediately grab audience attention with ‘Not Without a Purpose’. Covering a good portion of their back catalogue all the way back to 2003’s Savin Hill, the miles under their belts are apparent in the size of their stage presence. Fists are pumping and voices are raised to shout along with every word being wrenched from Mike McColgan’s vocal chords. I won’t give a song by song account, but ‘Savin Hill’, ‘You Alone’, ‘Sell Your Lies’ and their cover of Steve Earle’s ‘Johnny Come Lately’ were highlights. Currently part of the line-up is Lenny Lashley of Darkbuster on guitar, and a cover during the encore of their song ‘Skinhead’ manages to raise the already frenzied level of crowd participation. Covered in a thin but noticeable layer of dirt, sweat and beer, I grab a can for the tube and head home happy. Nights like this definitely make up for a festival free summer!

Waking up on the final day of the festival, yesterday's weather is long forgotten, the skies are blue and the sounds of Mr Frank Turner sound-checking on the Main Stage are a welcome diversion from the bloke who looks like he's in a metal band loudly vomiting a few metres away. Whether his sudden expulsion was from hearing Frank, or whether it was last night's overindulgences we never find out, as we decide to hit the arena in time for the first band, Pontefract's Glass Caves.

Having stumbled upon the band busking acoustically in York several months back, we're intrigued to see what they sound like plugged in. The answer to that is simple. Loud. Drawing a not unreasonable size crowd for the first band of the day, anyone would think the band were trying to deafen their audience's hangovers in to submission. And whilst their sound is fairly generic, it's easy to see the band going places given the right support.

After a brief breakfast, we hit the Main Stage again to catch Leeds' Menace Beach, referred to as an “indie super-group” the band and its revolving cast of members uphold a distinctly grungey/slacker vibe. Unfortunately, the first couple of tracks are marred by muddy sound levels, though is seemingly sorted out by the third number and the band proceed to put on one of the best sets we've seen this early over the weekend.

Next up are Natives, who for us sound a little too You Me At Six for us to get excited by. Understandably however there are pockets of the audience to which they go down particularly well - proof of the popularity of the genre as much the band themselves. They do have an excellent rapport with the crowd though, which has notably doubled during their set.

A welcome yet unusual inclusion for a Main Stage band now, in the form of King Pleasure & the Biscuit Boys who are something of a Y-Not institution. The band's funk/blues/soul spectacle is enough to get anyone dancing, especially when they drop a cover of classic 'Tequila'. Having supported the likes of Ray Charles before, they've certainly got something about them, and though it's a fairly niche appeal the band hold, when you play to a field full of drunk people anything they can dance to will go down fantastically, as evidenced today.

Keeping in tradition with the weekend's '00s indie bands, The Sunshine Underground entertain an impressively large crowd, recounting the time they played the first ever Y-Not and had to be dragged in on a tractor. Due to time restraints, the band are cut short after only 5 songs, which could explain the lack of 'Borders'.

Despite Palma Violets popularity last year, the band have been strangely quiet of late, and it feels somewhat odd seeing them so high up the bill. All becomes apparent when the band take to the stage however. The crowd surges forward and singer Sam Fryer slurs his vocals like a drunk Iggy Pop. Having been disappointed with Palma Violets' debut 180, we'd written them off somewhat prematurely; seeing those songs live is a different matter entirely and tracks such as 'Step Up for the Cool Cats' and 'Best of Friends' have always been impressive, the latter of which whips the crowd in to a frenzy, every word screamed back at the band. “Yorkshire, Yorkshire,” chants Fryer cheekily prior to their last track, causing more of a furore in front of him. As the band finish, a rainbow appears above the Main Stage, and De La Soul can be spotted behind the stage, smoking last minute cigarettes. Both go unbeknownst to the crowd below.

Whilst we were obviously aware of De La Soul's legacy and knew that we would regret not seeing them live, we'd never really given them more than cursory listen. As far as live rappers go, we've seen a fair few too, but not enough to be any kind of an expert. Tonight however, the crowd's reaction says it all, more than a few people knowing each track word for word. They play a set that spans a whole career, ending with party track 'Ring, Ring, Ring', which has been in our heads ever since.

Next however, is the set we've been waiting for all weekend, and judging by the swelling numbers around us, so too has the rest of the festival. Frank Turner might well be one of those people who constantly divides opinion, but lately it seems more and more people really are behind him, and not even the kind of people you would expect. As an old English poem begins to emit from the stage, a lady in front of us takes her hair out of its bobble, shivers slightly and lifts her arms in to the air. It's the kind of sight you would expect at Glastonbury, but then again the lady in question looks like the kind of person who would read poems at the Stone Circle at Glastonbury so it sort of makes sense.

All thoughts are interrupted by the opening notes of 'Photosynthesis', and we realise once again why it is we keep coming back to see Frank Turner. His energy is second to none, bouncing back and forth between guitarist Ben Lloyd andbassist Tarrant Anderson with all the energy of a punk show. The crowd lap up every minute; newer material going down just as well as older songs. Given how extensive his back catalogue is, and his hours allotted stage time, not everyone is going to get to hear their favourite song, but with the likes of 'The Road', 'Try This At Home' and 'Long Live the Queen' no-one is likely to complain. Of course more recent tracks such as 'The Way I Tend To Be' and closing track 'Four Simple Words' lack the rawness of others, but they more than make up for it in resonance. Turner's ability to put together a set that feels like one big party, despite the poignancy of some of the tracks is a testament to him as a front-man, and though his set feels over all too soon, we go away safe in the knowledge that it won't be long before we get to see him again.

With heavy eyes, we decide to make a break for the car, heading home as soon as we can so as to avoid the following morning's traffic. And though we might have missed one night of partying, Twitter and Instagram on Monday prove we've made the right decision. Having never been to Y-Not before, we didn't know what to expect, but as it happens it's a fantastic festival right on our doorstep. There's a definite family-friendly vibe that runs throughout, but for those who want their weekend a little more reckless there's plenty of opportunity for that as well. All in all we've seen some great bands, some average bands, and a few bloody brilliant ones and we can't wait to hit it up next year.