Before the festival kicked off I was sitting in a nearby café stressing and circling over the severity of Visions’ set clashes, when the sky quaked with the rasp of thunder. It proved to be – wait for it… – only the first electric atmosphere that day. Ahem. After the heart-warming dog show, which featured everything from dachshunds in denim jackets to pugs in Twin Peaks-inspired cherry pie get-ups to the teensiest cloud on legs traipsing in merriment, I situated myself with the layout. Spread across London Fields, the venues used were welcomely diverse. Beside the industrial clamour of Oval Space, we were subject to the foggily atmospheric London Fields Brewhouse, and the low-ceiling, oldschool bar vibes of Mangle, among others.

After my meticulous survey, first up was an artist I knew little about but whose press and brief Spotify research yielded promise. Baba Ali’s meeting of electro arrangements with R&B intonation was musically impressive and emotionally stirring, the furrows of the melodies and the poise of his voice only overshadowed by how mesmerisingly ace his dancing was. I managed to catch the start of Denzel Himself, whose moody, brash, weirdly soulful introspectiveness rebalanced the upbeat; before I skipped over to Oval Space for Noga Erez. She was thrilling. Her sound – in simplified terms, think MIA crossed by Purity Ring – pulsated through the venue’s bellowing sound system, with restive synth twinkles prancing around muddied beats. Her choreography and stage presence was incredible, appearing lost in the intensity of her own music, perfectly attuned to its ebbs and flows. She’s one of the most charismatic performers I’ve seen in a long time.

I took a break from my electro-centric agenda to see The Men in the burrow of Mangle, their propulsive, heterogeneous punk at home in its dusky denizens; especially when they surfaced a saxophone to gallop us forth on the final stretch. Saxophones improve everything, after all.

Next up was London-based, J-Pop inspired Kero Kero Bonito. It was obscenely fun. Their feel-good anthems purport winning hooks while concealing a jaded quarter-life crisis in perpetual conflict with their unshakeable positivity. Singer Sarah Midori Perry adorned the appropriate robes (and hat!) for their hit ‘Graduation’, and produced a cuddly flamingo for, well, ‘Flamingo’. Things just got weirder as the set flew by; and it was the happiest, most adoring crowd I saw all day. Their unabashed quirkiness will inevitably become polarising as they continue (presumably) to blow up, but I had just the best time.

As the light of day dwindled I sought out the warren of Mangle once more for one of the best gigs I’ve attended this year in Blanck Mass. Assumedly deliberately, Benjamin John Power began with the most intensive, highest BPM tracks off this year’s World Eater and pulverised us for thirty minutes before incrementally slowing things down ahead of celebrated cut ‘Please’, which hailed us home. Drone music, techno metal, or branch of post rock; however you define this tsunami of noise, it’s genuinely overwhelming and transcendental to experience live. The audience didn’t know whether to mosh until breathless or stand breathlessly still.

Last up was that most distressing of clashes; SOPHIE or Liars? I opted for the former, with Oval Space as the setting overruling as the decisive factor. In an act of immaculate timing, as Samuel Long strode on-stage immersed in Oval Space’s distinctive ocean of dry ice, the smoke alarm started blaring; whether deliberate showmanship or not, it worked a treat into whipping up the crowd’s anticipation of sensory overload. Considering his studio releases are celebrated for their spontaneity and eclecticism, the set was surprisingly mild. Aside from Vince Staples’s ‘Yeah Right’ and Charli XCX’s ‘Lipgloss’, on both of which he holds production credits, he largely refrained from The Hits or meandering into esoteric sensation, bringing to play an explosive if conventional hour of techno. The beats were vast, and the periodic BPM levity mystical as it drowned in gleaming lights and impenetrable fog, but it never quite peaked.

Every act I saw at Visions killed. It could be blind luck, it could be my unconsciously impeccable taste, but it’s probably that the calibre of curation was just consistently excellent. Highly recommended on the music alone, but with early-release prices at lower than £30 it’s an absolute bargain.