The gates have only been open a half-hour but there’s already a few hula-hoopers at the gazebo in the middle of Catani Gardens. Give it an hour and there’ll be about 50 rings laid out with some pro supervision so people can master all the moves - the pizza toss, the tornado, the scorpion, the oopsie-doodle.

Along the seaward fence, a market has sprung up with bumper cars and a ferris wheel at one end, and little chillout zones pepper the grounds, including an open-air lounge room with a pink-and-white colour scheme complete with flamingo-hued bookshelf.

There's even a few people reclining in a little daybed garden, but most early-comers are at Aurora Stage witnessing the power of Black Magic Master. The track opens Baker Boy’s set and it's a strong introduction. Like Baker Boy (aka Danzel Baker), says, “Either you do or don’t have it,” and watching him sling sharp English and Yolngu Matha bars it’s clear he’s in the first group.

The “proud black Yolngu boy with the killer flow” doesn’t like to let things stagnate and a two-man dance crew join him on stage to throw some shapes to a sample from MOP’s Ante Up (“Get ‘em (get ‘em) get ‘em/Hit ‘em (hit ‘em) hit ‘em”). They switch straight out again and Cloud 9 collaborator Kian taps in for a remix of Treaty, Baker introducing the Yothu Yindi classic with a call for unity: “Black, white, orange, purple, rainbow - we need to come together as one.” After a killer yidaki solo, Baker brings the dancers back to show off some traditional Arnhem Land steps, and then some not so traditional steps for Marryuna. “With that sexy double Rrrrrr,” the track’s a definite highlight. It translates roughly to ‘dance with no shame’ and plenty of people take the advice.

As the fresh new prince’s set wraps, some ‘birds of paradise’ peck and bop through the crowd with trays full of fresh fruit. They look amazing in their mishmash of bright knitted dresses and shirts, fluoro bike shorts, and glittering face paint and feathers. One even sports a flowering-hedge headpiece with the same dimensions as Marge Simpson’s ‘do. We take a piece of pineapple and the bird-person chirps enthusiastically in response. It’s kind of a weird moment, so we get out of there, falling in step behind a couple of punters in eggplant costumes. Fun fact: eggplants are actually a type of berry, because all vegetables are just fruit in disguise. The vegefables lead us down to Bass Stage where Chant Down Sound are putting out some very chill “Rasta party” vibes. The stage is actually a little palm-frond shack with a crowned heart for front wall and massive camo green-and-black speaker stacks wub-wub-wubbing away on either side. A handful of people bop along sedately while others sink into armchairs in another open-air living room nearby (this one’s orange), absorbing reggae roots by osmosis.

The sound of L-Fresh The Lion setting up draws us back to Aurora, along with a good chunk of the Pleasure Garden population. L-Fresh's band play him an intro that could happily be a Bond theme. They're groovy AF, which goes double for core crew member Mirrah, who fills Tre Samuels' lines on opener Pray For Me. The snarl coming out of Duane Critcher's guitar as L-Fresh rolls into One doesn't sound very hip hop at all. It's still got the record's reggae-ish 'boom-chick-boom-chick' rhythm, but Critcher lays it on thick live and it works a treat. We notice a couple using clumsy acro-yoga as a form of dance, bless 'em, and have never seen space open up in a crowd faster. Cops should adopt it for a non-violent crowd dispersal technique. Takeover takes us to a new dimension, Mirrah demanding we "bounce with it" and leading by example.

L-Fresh warns we're heading "into some deep shit" so we can look at the world and appreciate "the beauty in it, the good vibes in it". Raci$t/Our World brought some serious fuckwits out of the woodwork when the video dropped on Creators For Change's YouTube channel back in September, something the Sikh rapper predicted in the track's lyrics. L-Fresh's message might be endlessly positive, but it's made of steel and he whips his hand through the air each time he sings, "It cannot be taken from me," for emphasis. We spy Baker Boy and co in the crowd for Hold Up - L-Fresh's bouncy sermon on casual, clueless racism and respect for personal space - and Mirrah adds in a verse warning people to keep their mitts out of her hair ("Aaaaaah hell no, man"). A spoken-word section leads into standout track The Heart, The Pen, Mirrah moving to the drum riser and throwing a fist in the air. Get Mine closes the set with some joyous Bhangra moves from L-Fresh and Mirrah.

The Conservatory looks like an abandoned five-star hotel slowly being reclaimed by the jungle, with a two-storey wing either side of the stage covered in vines and peeling paint. In the middle, Come Down's moody keys give way to glitchy Space Invader noises. It happens quite a bit, Crooked Colours keyboardist Leon De Baughn's drops all seem to have a bit of arcade noise in them (no complaints here). Phil Slabber's wistful warble hits peak melancholy on Come Back To You, the crisp clap-track echoed back by the grooving crowd. As the synths fade out, we overhear a guy with wolves howling at the moon on his shirt struggling to explain 2C-B to a dude in jellyfish print. "Look, do you want to know what it is or do you wanna do it?" This seems to convince Jellyfish. "You wanna take too much and deal with it, you don't wanna take too little and think about it," explains Wolf Shirt. "I definitely took a lot, though." Older track Capricious brings a more menacing edge to Crooked Colours' set, sharp synths stabbing through the relentless bass thrum, before Ivan Ooze collab I Hope You Get It puts hands in the air.

Back at Aurora there's a party going on and the energy's a bit more rambunctious for REMI. Main man Remi Kolawole's got the whole crew on stage, from Sensible J to N'fa Jones, and people are packed in for Raw X Infinity cut Livin and Forsaken Man. Kolawole picks up the message L-Fresh and Baker Boy were both carrying earlier, saying it's great to see people out "enjoying black culture" but to remember the things "that depress us, discriminate against us" before calling them out in Lose Sleep and Ode To Ignorance, the latter transitioning into Dr Dre's What's The Difference. Jones and Kolawole then post up front and centre to show us how to 2 Step before Jones takes the lead on a verse about House Of Beige collective Cool Out Sun. The pair have bags of charisma together and it's a joy to watch them jump around and kick tracks back and forth. Substance Therapy goes out to anybody struggling alone ("talk to your people, take care of each other"), and the track's anxious synths seem to lighten and dissipate out in the sun. They wrap up with a banging rendition of XTC Party, the bass pumping out at disorienting levels.

At The Conservatory, the balconies on the 'hotel' wings have filled with dancers for Montaigne. She shows off her powerful, operatic trills in Because I Love You and her almost-mantric assurance that "everything is just fine... Because I love you," should leave anyone who's been stuck blindly defending a dead-end relationship wincing. Those '80s keys, hazy synth and chipper drum lines are irresistible, though, and any wasted time becomes something to laugh about together. She runs the length of the stage throughout, occasionally stopping to jump on the spot or flick her arms around in a physical interpretation of scatting — particularly during In The Dark. It's a unique and energetic performance and nobody's left scratching their heads about the open invitation every Australian festival seems have for Montaigne.

Fat Freddy's Drop are pure fire, which is also probably their favourite word. They start with Russia and Dallas "Joe Dukie" Tamaira's voice is silk. Several beach balls appear down in the front and folks are popping up on shoulders all over the place, the crowd quickly becoming double-decker. Props to the woman standing upright on somebody's shoulders and still dancing more gracefully than most (and to whoever she was standing on for 15 minutes). It's real good to hear some solid brass after all the day's samples and Joe "Hopepa" Lindsay's trombone solo at the start of Blackbird is serious business.

Most of the band exit for electronic track Razor, which is probably their only misstep. Nobody's leaving in clumps or anything, but it's a definite kink in the flow and the boogie gets a little awkward. Then the brass is back and so are we. Lindsay's had a costume change, returning in sparkly white booty shorts and a matching holographic silver cape and chef hat, and no one else stands a chance. With his moves he'd pull focus in plaid. By now we've realised why Fat Freddy's Drop's set is so long - FFD jams don't have an outer limit. A funky 12-minute intro breaks right into disco territory before coming back for Cortina Motors and the crowd loves it. They could probably have ditched the set list and just grooved on for the full hour and half and people would have skanked hard.

The sun is finally down for Opiuo (sweet, sweet relief) and four evenly spaced vertical towers of purple lights flip the fuck out when he takes the stage. There's a horizontal line of spotlights on top of those towers and they rove over the crowd like tractor beams, dragging arms into the air. He starts up with some sax-heavy mixes and when the first drop lands the crowd transforms into a writhing mass of violet limbs. We hear Naughty By Nature call out, "Yeah you know me," and from there it's straight pandemonium. You either run with the rhythm or get trampled by it.