GOOD looking smiley people, nice food, good beer and tons of great music.

For one last day it seemed like summer had never gone away, and we were all back at our favourite festival – but without the mud, the collapsing tent and the scrumpy-stained sleeping bag.

Yes, Saturday saw the city’s first Ox4 festival. And what a long strange few hours it turned out to be.

The entire city owes an eternal debt to brothers Joe and Robin Bennett for having the sheer brass-necked bravado to stage such an audacious event.

As an addition to their portfolio of Truck spin-offs, it was a winner – striking a popular chord and selling out early in this, its first year.

Was it because of the bands? Well that helped. Could it be the choice of venues? Hmmm…less likely. No, it’s mainly because it allowed lazy music lovers to dip into an all-you-can-eat buffet of live bands, without leaving our natural habitat – the bars and kebab shops of Cowley Road.

It was festival-going without the pain; easy in, easy out, and with nothing more arduous than a wobbly amble between stages.

The only downside was that, like all good festivals, there was that tantalising problem of where to go next. And there were some spectacular clashes.

Thankfully, the crack crew from Guide Towers were out in force, staking out each of the venues.

Sadly, few could remember much the next day, and when quizzed, over espresso and Nurofen, had nothing more constructive to say than ‘err... yeah... awesome’. Which, if I was putting on a festival, would be the only endorsement I’d need anyway.

But, for the record, it was a night of predictable fun from a handful of reliable old hands – with some mighty surprises thrown in for measure.

So who rocked? Well, everyone you’d expect to. So Jonquil were their usual sublime selves, and the sharp-suited Original Rabbit Foot Spasm Band were bang at the top of their high-octane jazzy game.

The Big Pink were shimmering, dreamlike and psychedelic; rotund rapper Dalek was cool and trippy; Dial F for Frankenstein were a supertight ball of raw, punchy energy; singer-songwriter Richard Walters, one of Oxford’s greatest unsung treasures, won yet more admirers; while Goldrush reincarnation Dusty & the Dreaming Spires played lovely Bryrds-like alt country – proving a suitable prelude to another Danny & The Champions love-in later on.

A triumph then. And the good news is, a little bird tells us, that not only will it be back next year – but, with luck, it could go on for two whole days. Autumn is the new summer!

OX4 IN PICTURES: Click on the link above to view our gallery of pictures by rock photographer Guy Henstock