The sun is still blistering as Dam-Funk brings in da funk, brings in da noise. There’s a two tier set-up, one with the decks, another one with a small synth and a set of mics, and he alternately plays some records and plays some music. A constant there, they all are funky as heck, some on the disco side, others going all out house music. So we get the Detroit, the Chicago, the NY (Dam-Funk helpfully guides us through all that), and he’s sure not to forget to honour the late Prince, doing a couple of his songs.

So, in the sweltering heat, we are dancing. It’s real disco and real house, so it might be too slow for some who like dance music, but it’s my sweet spot, and evidently that of the people behind me as well. So at the front the people are swinging, singing, movin’ and grooving to the house beats and the disco divas. And to Dam-Funk, who, when he takes the reins, shows us the prowess of his own vocals, and who brings the wobbly with his synthesizer as well. A little bit of that Warehouse and Studio 54 in bright sunlight, but in the end, it’s the music that makes the dancing, and this set/show certainly delivers right there.

On that very same Pitchfork stage, just a little bit later, it’s Jenny Hval who does right what Holly Herndon, in my opinion, didn’t succeed at. Yes, it’s experimental, and it is perhaps closer to performance art than it is to music, until you hear the singing and the music, and then it’s a combination between both that downright works. She and her two companions all don wigs with long, blonde hair, and throughout the show they cut in it, use some of it as pubic hair, and rub it all over their arms before finally, for the last two songs, discarding them completely to unveil, for the first time, Hval without mask. Just to, for the last song, quickly throw on a cape for some dancing in unison with one of her partners on stage.

It’s not only that, clearly, she has something to say and, clearly, she isn’t afraid to get in there and get messy in order to convey her message. It’s also that her voice is absolutely beautiful, both in spoken word and singing, and that near the end she even goes for all out party with a nice, catchy beat and the aforementioned prolonged dance routine. And, when she takes off the grotesque mask that she’s been wearing all day, what she unveils is the beauty of womanhood underneath. Which, surely, can be decoded as some sort of symbolism in a performance that’s full of it.

Chairlift gives it the good ol’ dancing try with their set, mixing some of the older, more dreamier work with some of the new, more punchier singles. Personally, the dreamier work does it for me, and you can do a little dancing with your eyes closed on those ones (though at the risk of missing the entertaining and energetic lead singer). The audience, though, goes berserk especially for their single ‘Ch-ching’, which they save as last and which, for most out there, seems to be the right choice.

To end the festival we take a seat at the Ray Bans stage to see Julia Holter and band doing their thing. Her voice sounds good, and you can see these are the pros at work there, with the whole performance oozing with professionalism. Holter is just the latest strong female performer that performed at the festival this year, and she, too, gives the gathered crowd a reason for why they might join her in her European tour later on this summer.

After this seated show we take one more look at all of it all from the top end of the festival site. One more time, the city lights, one more time the throng of people, even though at that point we are seemingly by ourselves in the room upstairs. As the city is prone to do, we become voyeurs, witnesses to life or some sordid thing like it, disconnected yet surrounded by those that at least come close to being similar. Combine this mood with the perfectly eclectic soundtrack throughout all the three days, and it’s just the right darn place to be.

With the November weather attempting to do its worst our third time at Le Guess Who? began in a low key fashion tonight. A return to the fantastic Jenskerk, to see the festival's opening act Hildur Gudnadottir perform her mix of cello and experimental pop, was the first stop. A fitting location for the ethereality of the music and one that pulled in a full-sized crowd.

Making use of a bike this year proved to be the wise move its always been touted as (although it does help to read your map correctly) so the trip to see Eric Chenaux in the Tivoli Vredenburg's Pandora hall took no time at all. Bringing to mind the work of Robert Wyatt with his warbling falsetto his was an interesting and warm start to the Constellation Records curated element of this year's festival.

Back to the Jenskerk for another packed-out show next. Last week's Paris horrors will obviously be in people's minds throughout this weekend (Eric Cheanaux had already mentioned the festival as providing a break from the tension there) and for this, the last night of her tour, Julia Holter's response was to put music to a poem by Karen Dalton. You could have heard a pin drop in the hush that marked its playing. 

Squeezing back out through the crowd and past the queue at the door it was back up the road to the Groete Zaal of the Tivoli for the first of tonight's major German acts. The Notwist have somehow missed out on major success in the UK (not that I expect they lose sleep over that) but it's bewildering why that is the case. Given their ability to write indie gems worthy of the likes of a rockier Teenage Fanclub as well as a raft of material that recalls (or even pre-dates) Wilco at the more experimental end of their own scale they should by rights have swept all before them. With their binary lights and pounding performance they'll just have to remain a favourite of those in the know for the time being.

Saltland were next on the list for us but upon climbing the stairs to Pandora we were met by the crowd streaming out some 12 minutes early by our reckoning. A quick look at the programme showed there was time to fit in the unknown The Homesick, part of the the Subbacultcha Presents slice of the festival, over at Ekko. They were tonight's revelatory act. Laddish post-punk from a Dutch trio clearly very at home in the live setting and going down a storm with the home crowd. Bags of energy and talent aplenty on display.

Majical Cloudz were the final act at the Jenskerk tonight. Whilst rather bizarrely not drawing in the same keen crowd as the earlier performers they managed to make far better use of the excellent acoustic properies of the ex-church than for whatever reason Julia Holter had been able to. Having it seemed arrived from Canada during the day Devon Welsh (bearing very fair comparison to David Byrne) apologised a number of times for having little in the way of chat but whether jetlagged or due to having other concerns on his mind his and Matthew Otto's performance was flawless. 'Are You Alone?', 'Heavy' and 'Childhood's End' all featured in the set and it's hard to think of a place where they could have come over any better.

Reconstituted krautrock pioneers Faust were next on the agenda. True to their roots there was a theatrical element in the shape of three knitting girls at the front of the stage. Beginning with a tribute to the victims in Paris and beyond theirs was a thunderous performance of a far more industrial nature than expected but one ideally suited to the cavernous space of the Groete Zaal. Managing to make a hurdy gurdy sound like an air raid siren & harbinger of doom was a particularly evocative part of their dramatic show.

A quick train ride up to the far flung DB's brought the first hiccup of the night as, due to timings seemingly being close to an hour out of kilter, The Great Communicators were not that far into their set rather than The Mysterons just getting ready to take to the stage. Vigorous and sweet-voiced indie from the Amsterdam/Hague quintet was a pleasure to take in nevertheless and they're undoubtedly not the only band appearing over the weekend who, if things go well, can enjoy wide appeal outwith Holland.

Given the train times the only option was to finish the night back in Pandora for a final dollop of Canadian entertainment in the shape of Ought. Live it turns out that frontman Tim Darcy's performance is a curious mix of Jarvis Cocker's sinuousness married to Mark E. Smith's vocal mannerisms, a combination that makes it hard to take your eyes off him. The floor of the hall was packed so they were keenly received by the vast majority of the crowd but for me there was something lacking in terms of the transition of the material from Sun Comes Down and its predecessors from recording to live. Maybe the balcony wasn't the best place to appreciate them from. Nevertheless it was well past the witching hour & so time to head off.