For me, one thing that pits SWN festival above it’s contemporaries like London’s Camden Crawl, Liverpools’ Sound City and Manchester’s In the City Festival is it’s location, I mean, of course it’s wonderful to have all this great music in one place, but one thing you get with the Welsh people that you don’t with say, Londoners or Scousers, is a very down to earth and friendly vibe. No one’s got an attitude, and everyone’s up for a dance. No one’s stand offish, yet no one’s blind drunk, and it’s a really nice balance. (Although on the Saturday night in the more commercial, city centre I did witness a bloke trying to push a girl into oncoming traffic before he punched her to the floor… and this is why we can’t have nice things.) But non-festival related unplesantries aside, the atmosphere at SWN really couldn’t have been much nicer.

In a dark venue, an all encompassing fuzz takes hold of proceedings, as a grungy bunch of slacker types stand onstage, eyes covered by a thick mesh of hair, adorned in shirts 2 sizes too big. Gross Magic, the causers of this organised rabble may not look like they care one bit, but their lo-fi sound is carefully honed to press all the right buttons. They blast through the tracks off their ‘Teen Jamz’ EP in spectacular fashion and although they might sound more Seattle than Brighton, when it’s this good, who cares about geography anyway?

Across town in the Cardiff Arts Institute, Danish 5 piece, Battlekat, blast out a mesmerizing Sunday day time set, and whilst hearing the maddeningly hypnotizing electronic drum beats pound underneath an impressive array of synths, might not seem quite right whilst natural light permeates the room. The almost Bjork like vocal squeals and croons of their captivating female lead singer are simply too perfect. Fans of The Knife or Glasser, can make a sure bet that they’ll soon fall in love these guys.

Three Trapped Tigers bring a typically intense set to the welsh capital, the tunes off new album, route one or die working fantastically well live, and the crowd’s reaction on the night showed testament to this. An overwhelming sense of admiration was shared by the fortunate onlookers who’d managed to pack themselves into the room, and rightly so! The breakneck guitar work was truly virtuosic, justifying the sea of applause and appreciative whoops present after each song. However, at this festival, it was the Welshmen, Gallops who just about managed to pip TTT to the post on the whole “we play the most adrenaline fueled, powerful math-rock” front. Performing on their own turf, the four piece were given two slots across the festival. The first of which was played to a significantly under filled room (something that was the fault of the bouncer who had been told that 100 people was the maximum number of people allowed in the venue, when it was clear that it could accommodate more). Yet despite this, their set ticked all the boxes. The unadulterated distortion, marauding synth lines and intricate drums were proof that Gallops can take a sound and make it their own to devastating effect. But perhaps the fact that this show was under filled was a blessing in disguise, it gave the band a chance to oil the cogs and warm up for an almighty return show. Again everything was there, but this time round it felt as though there was an added edge of aggression, an emotion that bands like Gallops thrive on. As their set closer noisily lingered in the room somewhere around the 10 minute mark, it brought to end a wonderfully stimulating performance from a group I’d happily brand, the best band in Wales right now.

More math rock infused goodness came from Olympians, whobrought to the festival their very own brand of seemingly midwest emo inspired indie rock. Perhaps comparable to American football or fun. A far cry from the maddening noise of Gallops, this particular 4 piece were well suited to their Sunday afternoon slot, the lyrical sharpness and well crafted tunes earning them deserved reverence from all present. Showcasing a set bolstered by well coordinated playing and love ‘em or hate ‘em vocals, I don’t think it’ll be long before we start to see Olympians gaining popularity fast. What’s more, Olympians were the first band I saw at this years SWN festival who made a point of making their pleasant and witty personalities part of their set. With playful lines like, “My dad’s got loads of CD’s, probably more than you and your dad put together”. You’d have to have had a heart of stone to come away from this particular gig with any negative feelings towards these guys.

On the more hardcore side of things, Leeds based noise sculptors, Eagulls had a lot of buzz around them before the festival, and based on their performance, it was made clear to all that this isn’t just ill placed hype. The 4 piece’s jagged and exceptionally loud set was reminiscent of a Danananaykroyd gig, only with less pop and more skull pounding noise. (Don’t worry, this is in no way a bad thing.) Together, the band have concocted a glorious potion that lends itself to both fans of hardcore and of indie. It’s a fine line that takes skilled hands to blur effectively, but Eagulls seem to really have hit the nail on the head here. Expect big things!

Upstairs in Clwb Ifor Bach, Clock Opera pieced together a seamless set, which sounded perhaps at first a little subdued if anything. Kind of like they were holding something back. If that was indeed their game plan, to start slow and then blow everyone away, then I’d be inclined to say it’s strategy that’s worked wholly to their advantage, as around midway through their set they just seemed to explode. The ecstatic moment felt as though someone had lifted a giant weight off them and now they were stretching their musical muscles as far as they could reach, showing off their prowess and exuding confidence. This is what pop music should sound like. Also, congratulations are in order to Guy Connelly, lead singer, who wins Beardrock’s Beard of the Festival award for this sterling facial mane.

One of the few purely electronic artists at the festival, James Welch, AKA: Seams, coaxed out a melee of rich polyrhythms and thundering bass pulses from behind his laptop, in a late night set that felt perfect for the mood of the room. Like a more dancefloor orientated Gold Panda, seams’ transparent live show felt spontaneous and fun, but sadly, it seemed as though it ended all too soon. A longer set would have been preferable, but at least Welch knows how to leave a crowd hungering for more.

Overall, it would be no exaggeration at all to say that SWN 2011 has held in its hands, some of the finest emerging talent that the UK has to offer. Every lo-fi band worth their salt was present (special mention to The History of Apple Pie and Big Deal, both of whom were fully adequate at kicking up the wonderful fuzz of a Dyson test room). Some of the finest math rock was also here to be showcased, and sandwiched between all of this, more established bands like The Fall, And so I watch you from afar and The Joy Formidable were there to be relished. However there was in my mind, one performance this year, which dwarfed all others. A set that was more of an overall experience than just a gig. Manchester locale, Stay+ are a band who either want you to love them, or utterly detest them. Everything about them is screaming at you in an attempt to make you feel uncomfortable, even their old name ‘Christian AIDS’ was there to rile some whilst amuse others. (They had to change it because the charity threatened to sue them over it. Not a particularly charitable gesture I might add.) Their show was as ‘in your face as’ it could possibly be. Two blokes wearing black T-shirts with + symbols on lurked behind laptops side of stage, blasting out tremendously euphoric, yet deliciously evil sounding electronica that’s incredibly hard to describe without resorting to using silly blog-powered genre words like ‘witch house’ or ‘drag’. But as if the music alone wasn’t enough to mess with your head, on stage, a bloke with crutches and his leg in a cast removes his shirt, displaying a crudely drawn black crucifix on his torso. He then proceeds to diverge into the crowd and writhe around relentlessly. People step back, others just leave. In the background projections of warped and chopped up compensation company adverts dance to the music as a ghostly female singer blurts out otherworldly utterances into the microphone. It’s disturbing, it’s noisy, and it’s fucking fantastic. Those present will struggle to forget this one in a hurry.