ATP curated by Animal Collective 2011: Lee Scratch Perry (Photo: Sam Shepherd) ATP curated by Animal Collective 2011: Part 1 | Part 2

And so Springtime will never quite be the same again for a certain kind of music fan. The announcement that this would be the final ATP Festival to take place in May "for the foreseeable future" has disappointed a fair few of the festival's ardent supporters. The general feeling is that if this is to be the last of the festivals to enjoy reasonable weather, then it should bow out with a bang (from now on it'll be December weekends only).

With no Pavillion Stage this time around, it's not long before the weekend takes on a woozy zig-zagging motif as the audience pours back and forth between the festival's 2 main stages. The journey has to start somewhere of course, and so it's down to Highlife to kick things off. Rather than the bang that's perhaps required, Highlife's (or Doug Shaw to his mum) muted songs are mysterious and occasionally cavernous. As the audience slowly starts to swell, so his songs begin to take hold. It's not unlike being welcomed to Twin Peaks by Bob.

If Highlife was a muted introduction to the festival, then Black Dice are in no doubt about which way to take the mood. Utterly aggressive from the first note to the last their mashed up take on the Suicide blueprint is a breath of stagnant, but oddly exhilarating air. At times the noise they make is unbearable – the shuddering bass frequencies thunder through the bones with terrifying menace as the band soundtracks catastrophic technological meltdown on stage. Today, they're simply unstoppable.

After the sweet diversion of Dent May's charmingly lo-fi songs, that somehow bridge the gap between Beach Boys and The Smiths, it's up to Lee Scratch Perry to step forward and stake a claim as one of the acts of the weekend. A bonefide legend in every sense of the word, it's a pleasure to see the man himself run through a terrifically tight set with his Upsetters. He leads the Centre Stage a merry dance right from the first note, pacing back and forth like a panther and hitting his notes with ease. It's not bad for a pensioner; particularly one with a bright red beard, a gigantic magnifying glass hanging from his neck and more buttons on his outfit than the average pearly king.

If Scratch Perry sets the audience up for a party, then it's Big Boi who's bought the booze and the good times. Hip Hop tends to go over perfectly at ATP (De La Soul in particular are a dab hand at getting the party started here), and Big Boi is no exception. Masterfully working the crowd into frenzy, he's simply on fire tonight. His set concludes with just about every woman in the venue on the stage dancing with him. Clearly he's doing something right.

Minimalist composer Terry Riley inspires an entirely different form of devotion. This is hardly surprising, Riley is after all one of the most significant and influential figures in contemporary classical music. As Riley takes to the stage and sits down to his grand piano, a young man in the front row pukes on the floor and is chastised and encouraged to leave the venue by those around him. Rather than give the river of puke a wide berth, the audience merely marches through it in order to get a clearer view. What follows is an impressive set of minimalist treasures, but not one that any rational person would stand in a puddle of vomit for.

Floating in a pool (of water admittedly) is worth the effort where Wet Sounds is concerned. Two events are scheduled at the swimming pool over the weekend, and it promises to be a unique listening experience. With different experimental loops being played above and below the water, what transpires is an immersive world of sound where the music itself is directionless – it appears in the centre of your mind seemingly bypassing the need for ears. When it works. Saturday's event was something of a damp squib, Sunday's version however hit the mark perfectly with one writer of this parish describing the sound collages as other worldly and revelatory.

1. ATP curated by Animal Collective 2011:
   Part 1 | Part 2

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