Being buried in the North Yorkshire Dales would traditionally be a terrifying experience, but for three days last week, the shallow musical grave that was Heslaker farm was brimming with the sounds of the zeitgeist.

Beacons has become a very slick operation since it took over the rains of the Moor Music Festival three years ago, but it has managed to maintain the bohemian spirit bequeathed to it by the previous potato sack clad custodians.

This year saw super cool Vice magazine get involved, Resident Adviser had a entire stage, and Red Bull had a kind of Notting Hill Carnival-esque sound system hanging out of what resembled an ice cream van.

But that Ice Cream van was pumping all weekend, and not 99’s but 45’s, and being situated in the middle of the site, when times were a bit low, the masses flocked to it. But not when it rained, obvs. Urban Outfitters must have been gutted to see its neighbouring stall doing a roaring trade, while it, despite its strong brand, did not appear particularly busy.

When it did rain, which it did intermittently, but not enough to dampen spirits, they headed for the relative safety of the giant big top tent.

"Is this it?!" Asked several bemused revellers, "the whole festival is here? In this one field?!"

Life is made easy for people in skipton, everything under one hoof.

Vondelpark played to relatively sparse crowd in the main tent on Friday, and that mainly because the sun was shining.

It’s all very dreamy and very now, sparse, melancholic with a thumping bass line, which the kids love. The band are kids themselves, with a combined age of 60 between all three of them. Given a later slot when it got dark, it would have gone down a storm.

Eegulls are making a bit of a name for themselves after shaking off the shackles of simply being another buzz band. They've reached a level of maturity now, meaning the singer is no longer trying to start a fight with the crowd, but attempting to entertain them. It’s still a PIL overdose, but more refined.

The big top was close to bursting when bonobo took the stage. The heavens had opened and so the crowds from the ice cream van had spilled into the main tent, causing an almighty squeeze as he kicked into Sirrus. Every chime was met with screams of appreciation, but nobody was far enough away from each other to actually dance.

Although probably one of the best sets of the weekend, with the deep chills of Black Sands providing a perfect compliment to the relaxed vibe of the whole weekend, the sound was not brilliant. It sounded muffled and unclean, unable to cope and didn't seem to be able to cope under the strain.

Local favourites spectrals, a band notoriously hard to get hold of as up until last year only had one phone between them, didn't do much to pull anyone into the main tent on day two.

People were sound asleep from a heavy Friday, but would not have been woken by the mouse quiet set of the three, normally five-piece. He's never going to incite a riot with his soothing Alex turner esque vocals, accompanied by soulful beach boys, early 60s r’n’b guitars, but an apparent disinterest assimilated into the crowd.

Melody’s Echo Chamber, fresh from an outstanding set at Primavera, once again showed why they are so sought after. Lazy reverb laced guitars with stunning Kate Bush and Carly Simon -esque vocals. After half an hour it got a bit tiresome mind you. It become dreary after a dreamy opening couple of tracks "I follow you" and "Crystallized" although hints of Tame Impala kept people interested to the end.

Galaxians were a real surprise package. Two music nerds from Leeds in both appearance and musical technicality, but one of the coolest bands of the weekend. Preconceptions had to be left by the guy ropes for these musical whizz kids. The You Need to Hear This tent was packed out for an hour of disco funk which had everyone getting down with their bad and downright inhebriated selves.

Mikal Cronin, a kind of rent a guitarist for all the super cool san Franciscan bands like Ty Segall and White Fence, actually makes rather wonderful lo-fi garage rock for himself. Reams of uncontrollable hair filled the tent as he delivered ‘Shout it Out", a true garage pop classic, a la Weezer, which had teens bopping a long with ageing rockers *ahem* throughout.

The much talked about Local natives brought Saturday to a close, and although the set on the whole did not do much to set the night alight, especially with Ben UFO attempting to bring down the Resident Advisor tent, felt a bit of a damp squib, but the three-way harmonies were particularly impressive.

Sunday started well with The Wytches - a dark, trippy, Chocolate Watchband-like bunch of upstarts from Brighton. At 2pm, it was a real wake up for most, especially after two days of partying hard.

If people were not awake then, an ear bleeding set from Leeds favourites and 6 music darlings Hookworms must have been a shot in the arm.

Compared to the same slot the day before occupied by the somewhat timid Spectrals, the psychedelic five piece produced the noisiest set of the weekend. And it was beautiful if not relatively low key. People wanted to get dancing early in preparation for the five hours marathon set of Theo Parrish and Andres, and so the Resident Advisor tent begun to fill for Floating Points and Moon Duo appeared to be largely ignored.

Despite the best efforts of the elasticated synth/keyboard player, the performance was not their finest. In a small venue , the light show and guitars are bamboozling, which adds the acidic mystery of the two peice, but here it was slightly lost on the main stage.

Even the more market driven new album "Circles" - a definite move away from the in-your-face ambience of "Mazes", struggled to get the by now exhausted crowd, moving.

Hip hop hipster Danny Brown - a close friend of Harlem rap superstar ASAP Rocky, was a notable late afternoon performance, as were Hackney lo-fi slackers Splassh, but the final night belonged to SBTRKT and James Holden, with Wet Nuns getting an honourable mention.

Like the Nolans were back in 79’, folk were in the mood for dancing on the final night, and James Holden fuelled that mood. Despite overwhelming fears about the next day’s return to the bustling metropolis’, the people got down deep into the early hours of Monday morning, and for people to forget about their imminent gloom, is praise be for a festival which continues to impress.