"Hello Wembley" joke Gnarwolves as they open the festival, the biggest ever venue they have performed in to the least amount of people they have ever played in front of. There are literally ten people present to enjoy their fast punk with edgy vocals both sung and shouted. That is until a wonderful moment in their second song, featuring guest vocals from the singer of Goodtime Boys, when the public suddenly runs in from the late-to-open gates with their arms aloft, jumping and pumping their fists in the air. The size of the audience swells as a throng of people amasses at the front. A mid set slow song that prompts a sing-along shows they some dedicated fans that have arrived here. Gnarwolves will pick up some new fans due to the complimentary voices of the bassist and guitarist. This is most pronounced in Chlorine In The Jean Pule's chorus; "they took our souls away". The guest vocals on final song from one of the Dead Swans proves their growing popularity in the scene. (9/13)

The Bots are two brothers with a penchant for catchy hooks, four word choruses and playful riffs. Guitarist Mikaiah jives about the stage between four different vocal mics he plays around with. For War, which they have been playing for three years now, Mikaiah jumps atop the drum riser and smashes his foot down beside a mic'd up tambourine keeping time, this is not however the only striking piece of percussion in The Bots set up as drummer Anaiah utilises a china cymbal and piccolo snare which have stand out effects along with his cow bell.Northern Lights has galloping riffs, and a wonderfully simple descending riff during which they play around with the tempo. The downside in there being just the two of them is that their slip ups are noticeable, you wouldn't expect this from a band with over three years of touring experience. The fun and fast nature of their music, especially the lightning speed instrumental number they finish on, might perhaps help the audience excuse them for their mistakes, but they will have to step up their game for their support slots with Refused later this month. (8/13)

Desolated are a growling five piece metal band who play to a half full tent as the stage gathers smoke. With the constant chugging from their guitars they succeed in getting the festival's first pit to open up, and they energetically jump around on stage no doubt powered by the clean energy generated by all the windmills that have appeared all around me. I choose to retreat, and discover that Desolated strangely sound heavier from the inside of a portaloo. (3/13)

Next it is over to the sidestage which is to be opened up by Essex boys Never Means Maybe. They walk on to dramatic intro music and it is immediately affecting to hear singer Renz Byrne's opening line "say what you mean" positively screamed. This somewhat typifies what is to follow with their hearts-on-sleeves approach to playing live. Matt Steane gees up a young crowd by clapping along to the backing track that starts what is perhaps their best known song Inhale The Chaos. It seems Tom McCarthy and his guitar have comically coordinated with each other for the occasion with the coils of the strings complimenting the rings in his curly hair. New single The Tide shows a poppy-er side to the band, but they save the best for last in Ziva Killed Houdini which surges into a tirade of fingertapping. They promise to break the walls down on tour with Chris Jerico's Fozzy this year, an event you would expect a lot of today's audience to attend. (10/13)

Blacklisters are a discordant, disconcerting, noisy mess. This is intentional: it comes from their not-giving-a-fuck style. Their menacing frontman Billy stands still at the edge of the stage casting an uncomfortable stare and making faltering but controlled alien like screams. He then deems it appropriate to talk about an accidental murdering man with swords for arms between songs. Things are getting weird. With OK 47, which includes broken riffs, he sounds more like a cross between a delinquent young child and a fish. The whining vocals and intimidating stage presence is akin to Alexis S.F. Marshall from Daughters. He sways about the stage, with string for a belt, looking absolutely fucked. I catch both the bassist and the guitarist licking their lips like they are looking forward to devouring the audience in a bout of cannibalism. Perhaps the technician in charge of the smoke machine has noticed this as they elect to cover the stage in dense smoke. This however inspires Billy to emerge from the smoke like he has been transformed, a la stars in their eyes, into a beach boy to moderate applause. To make things even more surreal a moshing elephant-girl accompanied by a pink mouse enter the crowd and then take off their wellies and strip down to their bikini's and bra's. Announcing the next song, Club Foot by Kasabian, off mic would under normal circumstances confuse proceedings but in this case Blacklisters become more coherent. Brooding bass has wailing guitar forced over it in the menacing Ask yourself a question and the answer is go fuck yourself. Final track Trick Fuck is declared to a few gleeful yelps from fans and described as being about incredibly handsome men going around being sex pests, before the singer unnervingly invites people to have a cuddle with him after. (10/13)

Last Witness open to the sound of a heart monitor before plunging into heavy as fuck hardcore likely to induce heart palpitations. They receive the first tremendous response of Hevy Music Festival 2012 and an all engulfing pit is birthed. The tireless double bass pedals seem to fire pint sized frontman Theo Kindynis' leaps all over the stage. Animated Adrian Cecil seems to use not just his hands but his whole arms to play the bass as he too jumps about the stage like a man possessed. The pit action intensifies in response to "open this fucking pit up" and as they rip through songs from highly acclaimed Morning After the crowd matches the energy onstage. The beach balls and inflatable bananas are a nice touch, as lets face it - who doesn't like to be repeatedly bashed over the head with a giant inflatable banana? They suffer technical difficulties but this cannot hold Last Witness back as they continue with fury and pace. Dreamland Welcomes You from 2010's Give Up is a set highlight and sees some truly wild swinging of arms. A triumph for UK hardcore. (11/13)

Acoda Announce their arrival on the small stage with some heavy riffage and From Autumn to Ashes dualistic vocal delivery style. The clean Vocals are very strong especially when doubled up like on their second song and debut single, Finding Your Feet, where the double bass pedals that the drummer employs sound like thunder. Equally hard hitting is the moment when all four members scream "no rest for the working men" repeatedly. They are gifted with the best sound of the weekend, which overall it has to be said is poor. Their clear sound means that every cymbal, kick and snare sound pronounced. V for Ventriloquist includes this heavy, but clear, style of drumming typical of Acoda. Also typical of Acoda is their passionate delivery which is most pronounced in a three way/ three part screamed ending to a song, during which I am witness to a wheelbarrow windmill, which looks about as daft as it sounds. The best Screams of the set however come from the mouth of their bassist during The Ludovico technique to which the crowd head-bangs along in appreciation. (10/13)

The James Cleaver Quintet, who now are actually a quintet come out fiery but only one guitar and drums are audible, so before they can treat us to Chicken Shit (for the soul) there is a long gap in which the singer instigates some weak arm waving, before asking if anyone knows any jokes, explaining that he sadly does not. To which the guitarist says "what happens when you don't let a band soundcheck at a festival?" When they can finally launch into the song, despite their gusto it falls flat. Third song Think or swim, despite atrocious sound out front, goes down well with a circle pit and a creepy ending that sounds like a circus theme. They put their all into the performance in defiance of the sound quality; the singer surfs; the guitarist finger taps, rolls around on the floor and even joins the circle pit for one round. This interaction certainly works in their favour, the angular nature of their songs however makes it hard for the newcomers to follow their music, so perhaps this sense of spectacle is needed. Indeed I look to the floor, to garner the general response to a screwy band who sound somewhat like a haunted cuckoo clock, for ten seconds and woah! How one earth did the cousin it lookalike bassist get up on the lighting rig? Although not today, James Cleaver Quintet's day will come. (5/13)

In stark contrast to JCQ comes the most indie band on the bill: Sharks. They are a smartly dressed bunch of blokes from Birmingham who's songs casually jog along, with "woahs" and "oh oh ohs" as backing vocals. Looking like a cross between Dennis Lyxzen and Jarvis Cocker lead vocalist and guitarist James Mattock swaggers about, flirting with the mic stand as if dancing up to it in a gay bar. His vocal melody matches a cheesy but catchy solo well pulled off by guitarist Andrew Bayliss. There are small pockets of people singing along but as the lightest band so far most punters are uninterested. Whilst it is unlikely that Hevy was the best place for Sharks to make new fans they are rewarded by a loyal following that screams for the come the end of their set. (6/13)

From the intial "1,2,3,4" everyone is jumping to Trapped Under Ice. Justice Tripp and his guitar player Sam Trapkin both topless, absolutely ripped, and wearing backwards baseball caps. Singer Justice gets in among the fans whipping them up with their hands raised, screaming along to this aggressive hardcore hotly tipped by Last Witness. When I see a bloody nose and another individual carried away from the pit completely dazed I decide its time to make a retreat and see another band. Violence should not be mistaken for a good crowd reaction in this writers opinion. (1/13)

That other band would be Napoleon a four piece hardcore act from Exeter. The tent is buzzing before they start and the singer Christopher Adams gets in your face, gifting the mic to the initiated to scream down. It is here between the stage and the barrier amongst the photographers where he spends most of the set prowling, up close and personal with the followers. He dedicates their set to their merch man who had just boasted to him that he was once the owner of the fastest moped in the South West! They have a forceful delivery coupled with a sense of fun; Adams squirting bassist Joseph Godfree with water to his enjoyment; lashing the mic cord around; and continuing valiantly despite going down amongst the crowd when there was not enough beneath to support his surfing. He even decides to make the security work for their money by enticing a large number of crowd surfers for their last song. (10/13)

From the moment Mike Duce commands everybody to "jump up and down like it's a Nigerian pogo competition" it's pogo a go-go, and Lower Than Atlantis are in control. Hands are in the air and voices raised as they steam through singles (Motor) Way Of Life and Beech Like The Tree. Their song transitions are seamless, the chat full of (admitted) cliched lines apart from when they share with us that their performance at Hevy 2010 was the first show where they had people there who cared about the band and sung along. They undoubtedly have the biggest crowd of Hevy 2012 so far. Judging from the high profile support slot with Blink 182 and from their performance tonight, which includes a song or two from the forthcoming album Changing Tune, it is apparent that LTA are now the finished, polished artefact. It is still however frustrating for those who have seen them recently hearing the same lines and requests for crowd participation matched with the same songs. However slick their live show might be there should always be room for a bit of spontaneity that gives live music it's danger. The closest LTA come to this is with Far Q which energises the fans and allows the band to leave sections up to the crowd to sing. Another Sad Song induces another sing-along atop of shoulders and closer Deadliest Catch sees that everyone leaves in high spirits. (9/13)

Before they even hit the stage Deez Nuts name is being chanted. Bar Last Witness' inflatable palm trees they are the first band to dress the stage, even if it is just a gauze with their name printed on it. The audience has shrunk in size, but not by too much as the big top is still at about half capacity, and not in voice either. Group shouts are a big part of their music and the audience gets in on these simple chants boosting their power, indeed these 'backing' vocals hold more power than the lead vocalist. He later apologises for his voice stating it is diminished as a result of six weeks of touring. Highlights include a ten second song played especially for a circle pit and the premier of a new song which is welcomed by not one but two pits. With their mixture of punk rock, rap and hardcore they are hands down the coolest band on the bill. This is compounded when during the second to last song an all female pit is founded followed by the first truly mahoosive pit. When they finish a core of fans remains and their chanting earns them an encore of I Hustle Everyday which they play with just as much energy and bounce as the rest of their set. (9/13)

Unfortunately for Deaf Havana as singer James Veck-Gilodi notes a lot of people don't seem to be awake, and his admission that he would normally be in bed by now only serves to dampen the mood further. Still this doesn't deter the bassist from jolting about the stage to their well crafted rock/pop/punk songs which all have clean vocals now as they seem to have mellowed out somewhat. The backing vocal harmonies come across beautifully alongside U2's Edge-like guitar effects from the second guitarist. They say that it is a bit daunting being the only non-heavy band on the line up as Veck-Gilodi brings out his acoustic guitar. Those who have stuck around are rewarded with songs from recent album Fools and Worthless Liars which seem meaningful and emotive. It is clear that Deaf Havana are sincere in their gratitude for those still out of bed. They close with the country tinged The Past Six Years which we are told is about "how much I hated my life two years ago, (pause), how much I hate my life". Way to put a downer on the night James! Luckily they get an encore and a solo rendition of Friends Like These is played on the acoustic which, with its huge chorus sung along by all those in attendance, is warming and a far more uplifting and befitting end to the Friday night. (8/13)