It’s this feeling – well known to regular attendees of Meredith and its sister event in March known as Golden Plains – that keeps the punters rolling back in every year.

While other festivals suffer, struggle and collapse, Meredith thrives. This year, organisers cut 500 tickets from its usual capacity to make it comfier for the ticket purchasers. This speaks volumes about the festival, which has long foregone corporate sponsorships, sells out before the full line-up is even announced, has a ‘no dickheads’ policy, still allows punters to bring their own alcohol, and concludes with a nude foot race.

Simply put, Meredith isn’t like any other festival. Yet in the increasingly crowded festival calendar, it is the only one that would be game to sell fewer tickets deliberately so everyone can have a better time.

Warped kicked off proceedings this year, with the Geelong veterans pulling no punches with their grungy stoner riffs. They proved to be the perfect warm-up for Stonefield, who smashed out a warmly received and impressive set of '70s-inspired rock.

The late withdrawal of Vance Joy would have disappointed those keen to hear his hit Riptide and whatever other songs he has, but late replacement DD Dumbo was a beguiling presence and a welcome fill-in with his one-man loop pedal show.

Then it was on to indie darlings Deerhunter followed by a masterclass in awesome from godfathers of grunge Melvins, who delivered a breakneck assault of killer sludgy riffs and dual drumming fury.

As darkness descended on the Supernatural Amphitheatre, there were plenty of people more than ready for the party to really start. Enter World's End Press, who had the crowd dancing with their acclaimed synth pop.

Brian Jonestown Massacre switched the dial to psychedelic, washing over the crowd with a surprisingly incident-free set (given their reputation). Anton Newcombe, looking haggard on the far left of the stage, led his band of four guitars, bass, drums, keys and the tambourinist through a hazy selection of songs that wasn’t totally out of place for that time of the night.

Clairy Browne & The Bangin' Rackettes ushered in midnight with a classy set before the DJs took over, but the real highlights were to be found around 1am in the festival's weird and wonderful open-air cinema, where a mindboggling mashup of some of the worst and cheesiest rap songs (drawn from ads, promos, training videos and everywhere you can think of) drew enthusiastic applause from those lucky enough to witness the hilarity.

Similarly, on the Saturday night, the cinema picks included the Turkish version of Star Wars and an award-winning film called Las Palmas involving a baby trashing a bar filled with puppets. It's strange discoveries like these that help separate Meredith from the rest and make it about more than just the music.

Saturday morning in the Supernatural Amphitheatre and it was Courtney Barnett who was the first of a string of musical highs. She won a new army of fans from her morning set which kicked off day two after the traditional appearance by the Ballarat Brass Band.

Mac DeMarco followed and received the festival’s first “boot” – a sign of admiration demonstrated by crowd members holding one shoe aloft. It’s a tradition that has crept over from Golden Plains and it is the highest accolade to be bestowed upon an act.

And so there were sporadic boots for Mac DeMarco’s energetic set (which included a well received cover of BTO’s Taking Care Of Business), but there were even more boots and more energy for Melbourne punks The Smith Street Band, whose set peaked with their underground hit Young Drunk and some crowdsurfing amid a sea of footwear held aloft.

The sun was well and truly shining by the time Dick Diver took the stage, belying predictions of a cold weekend. In fact, it was proving to be a surprisingly pleasant bout of weather for the amphitheatre, which in recent years has been hit by 40-degree heatwaves, one-in-100-year storms, 48-hour stretches of rain, and last year's cyclonic winds that sent tents flying and left a path of destruction through the camp grounds.

Brooklyn rapper Joey Bada$$ was the lone voice of hip-hop for the weekend and he was a hit for some, but it was Aussie funk outfit The Bamboos that got the crowd moving on Saturday afternoon and were a highlight of the festival.

The crowd thinned considerably for Helmet, who played a hard-hitting, near-non-stop onslaught of ‘90s metal riffage that was impressive and head-nod inducing.

The only thing that has let down Meredith and Golden Plains in recent years has been the sound, and again it was an issue. Maybe it’s my ageing ears, maybe I was standing in the wrong place (although I did move around to test this theory), but it seemed some of the potential highlight acts suffered due to sound issues.

Spencer P Jones may be an Aussie guitar god, but his too-loud, too-much-feedback guitar almost ruined Beasts Of Bourbon’s set for many. Ditto for Spiderbait, who could have ruled this year’s Meredith if not for Janet’s bass being indecipherable in the mix (and if they hadn’t played so many songs from the new album or turned each of their classic hits into a six-minute-long epic).

Spiderbait were still great, but it felt like a missed opportunity. Not so the returning Chic, led by guitar hero Nile Rodgers. Having defeated cancer and seen his career soar to new heights courtesy of Daft Punk, Rodgers doesn’t want to waste a minute of it, and his near-endless stream of hits, spread over 90 minutes, was a celebration of life and music.

The DJs and lasers entertained the still-strong crowd until beyond sunrise, with only the hardy few returning to the amphitheatre on Sunday morning to catch Baptism Of Uzi or Oliver Tank.

Then it was onto the nude Meredith Gift – not called the “world’s stupidest footrace” for no reason – and the long and weary trek home.

Many of us will be back in March for Golden Plains to see Public Enemy, You Am I, Yo La Tengo and heaps more. It can’t come soon enough - as one punter posted on Facebook, “Post-Meredith blues. Only 80 days until (Golden Plains)”.