DiS approach Cooper's Field, Cardiff as Dizzee Rascal and his boys are well into skanking and bassing. As we make our way from the bustling streets and into the city's public arboretum, the leaves on the trees quake with respect for Dizzee's deep and pounding urbanism. Having spent too much time convincing the box office that we are who we are, we eventually get into the gig field just as he is taking his final bow. Oh well.

The organisers didn't think attendant press types needed a running order sheet either, so a voyage of discoveries and close misses awaits. Hey, there's a guy with a mighty bush for hair playing drums for the band in a tent. I spy Stuart Cable, so by deduction, this must be his post-Stereophonics new band Killing For Company. They're putting their heart and soul into this stadium-rock-in-a-tent. They're flirting with emo, but the vocalist's facial contortions help secure their feet in good ol' Valleys pub rock.

On the main stage, and easily recognisable, The Automatic soon make their presence felt. Although he must have bust the same moves a thousand times before, Pennie looks as convincingly deranged as when I first saw them several years ago. He throws his mic stand around in a way that might actually hurt him on landing and gobs at a gull for luck with as much abandon as a rifle-toting celebrator in the Middle East. The singles get raucous airings and, in the anthem world, only the Kaisers in recent times have been able to do what 'Monster' does to a sunny field full of people. 'This Is The End Of The World' jumps up from the past, and their running away song, 'Keep Your Eyes Peeled', keeps us on our toes before Super Furry Animals do their ethereal rock-based magic and mysticism. (Confession: SFA sounded totally great from a few yards behind the stage. DiS got chatting in the hospitality area and, um, missed their set.)

For this, their first Welsh gig ever, The Streets are playing a good mix from all three albums, but it's fair to say the crowd are more involved during the picks from earlier times. An unexpected addition is an excitable cover of The Prodigy's 'Outta Space', which comes early. 'Fit But You Know It' and 'Don't Mug Yourself' are, as we know, wicked sing-along tunes, but the live band arrangements are a bit disjointed. Despite everyone willing them on, it sounds out of focus. There are seven people on stage, including a hard-hitting drummer and female backing vocalist, with Mike Skinner cavorting tirelessly from one end of the stage to the other. The main man's all chat and guileless charm live, just the same as on record - a real geezer with a heart of gold. He's a bit of a holiday camp Red Coat on the side, too. During 'Never Went To Church', he's directing all in the field to "Go down low", either on haunches, heels or arses. He counts down from five. At "Two": we must turn to someone we don't know and say - I love you - then at "One" it's time to jump up and go mental. Corny, yeah, but just the kind of exuberant, silly fun that's the biz at the end of an all-dayer. As encore, a guest crusty sits cross legged and barefoot on a chair, taking the part of Tim for 'Irony Of It All' with Skinner doing the Terry bit. The duet works brilliantly and to finish it with a bang a prearranged bald and burly bouncer carries Skinner off under his arm. A witty and entertaining end to a hit and miss day.

Photograph: Stefan Hinc