Winding ourselves way back by a good seven and a half hours and we’re in the half-full Gaukurinn – scene of last night’s triumphant Minus set – to see Icelandic ‘mo band Days Of Our Lives. Their competent, if not enthralling, set is hampered by poor sound, with symptomatic tinny guitars, but they serve up a warming enough dish of thudding bass and scorching guitars. Towards the end of a short set halted abruptly by a strict curfew, they have a guest screamo vocalist – who, we know not. He can certainly wail but fails to change our mind that that there’s more to be had from the Airwaves festival than reheated hardcore.

That more-to-be-had is presented in no uncertain manner by Reykjavik! at Grand Rokk. The five piece may present obvious hardcore stylings in their armoury, but they have a heck of a lot more. Furious grinding guitars and a propulsive rythmn section are complemented by a front man who looks not unlike a young Zach de la Rocha throwing himself about the stage and beyond with great aplomb. Really rather fabulous.

A quick spot of dinner at Pasta Basta (a great name indeed) with DiS’ second correspondent (who relates that Leaves are as dull and generically indie as they have ever been,) is curtailed by our desire to head over see Singapore Sling at the Gaukurinn. They present a fuzzed-up drone rock not dissimilar to the likes of BRMC and the Warlocks. Certainly they’re the first band we see on stage still in their winter wear and donning black shades. Unnecessary, but kinda cool. Half of the Sling’s set washes by us in waves of hazy riffing, but the other half is both as engaging and as classically rock 'n' roll as you’re going to get.

We ignore the high pitched warblings of Keane that sail along outside the venue, to hang about for The Stills, and Canada’s finest doom exports are nothing short of a revelation. Gone is the stock-still delivery and stationary performance, and in, is the sort of pounding, intense rock 'n' roll set that takes a band like them to the upper echelons of indie. ‘Changes Are No Good’, ‘Lola Stars and Stripes’ and particularly ‘Love and Death’ are enthused with a kinetic energy that sees the packed crowd momentarily leave their feet in a wave of passion. It really was that good.

Ducking out of the last song or so of the Stills’ set, we troop over to NASA to check out the hot young(-ish) things of New York’s The Bravery. Naturally, they come on a good 45 minutes late, leaving this reviewer with a stony expression and they a critical mountain to climb. Despite looking like they came pre-packed out of the cool factory, it’s hard to knock their performance. Opening with ‘Honest Mistake’, one of the three tracks made available on their website for some time now, they immediately engage the crowd with a winning show of heady keyboards and Sticky Finger-lickin’ guitar riffs. Certainly they will face a tough time in the next few months from those with their radar on ‘too cool’ alert, but they will have their time in the sun, and by the end of ‘No Brakes’ with its massive Cure keyboard riffs they persuade DiS that they just about deserve it.

Having imbibed enough materials to match the natural energy output of the Reykjavikers, we spend our time waiting for Gus Gus by watching local heroes Trabant. To say that we weren’t expecting the 45 minutes that we got is an understatement. Think Spinal Tap sparring with Bono’s Mephisto and Super Furry Animals but with the funtime turned up to eleven. There are moments in the set where they transcend such frivolities, such as one lush, ambient Air-esque pop tune with a longing refrain that I can’t even remember. But it was great. Of course the momentary gentle marvel was shattered by a filthy electro-pop encore wherein the male singer re-appears in devil horns and a peephole bra, singing “I am just a dirty boy / I am just a filthy toy”. Marvellous!

We finish off the night with the anthemic pumping house of Gus Gus and as we head into the brisk evening, we realise that the adage is true; when you come to Reykjavik, you stay partied.

See you next year, friends.