Indietracks

Located in the sprawling Midlands Railway Centre, with steam trains and bars staffed by local volunteers and with the festival itself organised and run in their spare time by DIY enthusiasts of the indiepop scene, you won't find stages sponsored by fizzy lagers or mobile phone providers here. Instead, you can meet the bands and watch them perform in the merchandise tent.

The festival starts with the upbeat goth-pop of Veronica Falls, followed by Allo Darlin', who have spent the time since the release of their debut album rapidly evolving into everyone's favourite indiepop band.

"Everyone I've ever met is here," marvels singer Elizabeth, gazing down upon the large crowd, which partly disperses in confusion during headliners Everybody Was In The French Resistance ... Now!, Eddie Argos's high-concept art-pop side-project.

Those who stay are rewarded with jokes, both good and bad, and more in-jokes than you could throw a pooh-stick at.

Part of the charm of Indietracks is getting to see bands perform on a moving steam train, and to my shame I only saw one this year - the twee playschool melodies of Paisley & Charlie, who handed out bubbles to the audience and played their set on the wrong service, only to start it all over again when the rest of the audience scrambled aboard.

Their sound juxtaposed nicely with the abrasive Scottish kitchen-sink folk balladry of The Just Joans, who sound like a long hungover morning spent yearning for a dead ex-girlfriend. Yes, that good.

Later, hardy windswept perennials Ballboy charm the main stage in the gloaming with their charming and sometimes brutal brand of doomed romanticism.

They're one of those bands who could win fans on the strength of their song titles alone. At one point, the singer sweetly dedicates a song to a man in the crowd celebrating his 60th birthday. A pause.

Then: "It's called I Don't Have Time To Stand Here Arguing With You About The Size Of My Dick."

Come Sunday, everyone is hungover, particularly MJ Hibbett & The Validators, who open the main stage with this: "Welcome to the legends slot at Indietracks. Will it be Rolf Harris or will it be Tony Bennett?"

It's even better - no didgeridoos or crooning, admittedly, but plenty of songs-as-optimistic-life-philosophy wisdom (Billy Jones Is Dead, a tale of thwarted schoolyard ambition, is possibly the most affecting song of the weekend), with a side-serving of nuggets from Hibbett's forthcoming rock-opera Dinosaur Planet. They should headline next year.

Sunday afternoon corners the market in up-and-coming female-fronted indiepop. First up are the brilliant Standard Fare, with their Belle & Sebastian meets Fleetwood Mac pop songs of young heartbreak.

Singer Emma has a brilliant, uncompromising voice and when she sings: "I'm only 22, I still don't know what it is I'm supposed to do," you know what she means.

You also know the answer is to keep singing.

Then Shrag come along and demand adoration. Frontwoman Helen sings like she's making desperate entreaties at a doomed relationship at four in the morning.

This clashes nicely with her sardonic and self-knowing stage banter. Electro-guitar-shouting you can dance to.

Sunday headliners The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart are winningly humble but ear-wrenchingly out of tune - but no matter.

There are trains to drink on, indie discos to dance at, new friends to meet ... Indietracks is like being a member of the best social club you'll ever find. And yes, there are badges.