Almost as soon as punters started arriving at Field Day, monsoon-like rainfall ensued, turning Victoria Park into a mud pit. More prepared attendees donned their waterproofs with a wry smile; the majority tried to grin as their New Balances and floral flares became completely saturated. All stoically went on in, compelled by the excellent line-up.

The Resident Advisor tent was a sensible refuge, and DJ Koze’s set helped people to shake themselves dry, pulling together colourful tech-house, disco and leftfield pop, buoyed by his unshakable sense of fun. You could have been fooled into thinking it was summer. Skepta got people to trudge across the site, drawing a massive crowd to the mainstage swamp. His fan base has swelled in the past year, and he delivers a career-spanning set for his new devotees. Later on, Kelela dominates, standing alone onstage as she captivates with her powerful voice and retro-futuristic R&B.

If Floating Points’ DJ sets are transportive, then his live show is positively interstellar. Performing with a full band, Sam Shepherd plays keys and synths in a set that collides electronic music with spiritual jazz. At times, it sounds almost like Weather Report or John McLaughlin, stopping short of sounding completely outrageous.

Holly Herndon exploded many minds with her laptop and A/V set, which she dedicated to Chelsea Manning. Another artist exploring the the conflict between pop music and (for lack of a better term) the avant-garde, Dean Blunt, performed selections from his Babyfather project. Starting off focusing on dubby grime, Blunt had the crowd dancing along as one of his associates waved an enormous Union Jack. Later on, he delivered fifteen minutes of power electronics-style noise, intoning ‘fuck MI5, fuck MI6, fuck Trident’ over the top, halving a crowd not sure whether it was scary, hysterical or brilliant – of course, it was all three.

Headlining day one is something of a homecoming set for James Blake. In the matter of only a few years, Blake has shaped the sound of modern electronic pop, and has collaborated with Beyonce, Frank Ocean and Kanye West – his is the voice of experience. But it’s a voice that’s no less vulnerable, bringing a moving and bittersweet end to a soggy Saturday night.

On Sunday, Cass McCombs kept things gentle to begin with, his lilting Americana leaving plenty of room for bass and keyboard workouts. Elsewhere, The Thurston Moore Band were chugging and charming, if not slightly too reminiscent of Moore’s old band Sonic Youth.

Mbongwana Star cemented their status as one of the best bands to emerge over the past year, with spaceship synthesizers, frenetic percussion and generally jagged sonics creating an irresistible set. Sweden’s GOAT are scarier, performing in masks and gowns, recalling the intergalactic outfits of Sun Ra. Theirs is a twisted take on psychedelic funk, centred around repetitive effect-laden riffs and chanting vocals; it’s as disturbing as it is danceable.

The return of The Avalanches has caused considerable excitement this year, though their rather understated DJ set gave little insight into what we can look forward to from their new album. Later on, Beach House play an enlivening set, featuring eerily perfect renditions of their two albums from last year.

A thud of drums and swell of woodwind signal the beginning of PJ Harvey’s set, Harvey and her band stepping on stage in military style. Harvey herself doesn’t so much as touch a guitar, leaving the instrument that defined so much of her career in favour of a saxophone. Songs from her new album, the almost journalistic Hope Six Demolition Project, make up the bulk of the set. Old material is injected with new life, as ‘50ft Queenie’ and ‘Working for the Man’ are filtered through the sonics of her most recent project.

The clouds seemed to be abated as the festival draws to a close, the gods of mud and music satisfied. Harvey finished her set singing “it’s a perfect day” – but she always has had a great sense of irony.