Nilsson: The RCA Albums Collection

Characterising a country’s music by its most successful exports or what seem to be typical local styles is inevitable. With Iceland, the home of Björk and Sigur Rós, it’s easy to assume that ethereality, otherworldliness and plain oddness rule the roost. Of course, that’s not the case. The artists awarded the Kraumur prize for the best albums released in 2012 testify to Iceland’s broad musical palette. On the next page, our look at the Kraumur winners ranges from the hotly-tipped Ásgeir Trausti to, among other surprises, home-grown reggae.

The rain had vanished and there were whispers that the Afro-Brazilian gods were keeping it at bay as time got closer to the appearance of the headliner. The international superstar, singer, songwriter, environmentalist and former Minister of Culture ambled on stage like a cat, in a loping, slo-mo dance move, carrying his red electric guitar over his shoulder. Gil came dressed for a festival – no gorgeous silk suits but loose, pale t-shirts over beige tapered trousers.

This one-off appearance in a dingy, basement venue seems to be the entirety of Luke Haines’s promotional effort for his new album, Rock and Roll Animals. A few years have passed since he approached mainstream success as front man of The Auteurs and later as part of Black Box Recorder. In the intervening years he has taken the healthy notion that quality does not equal popularity to a possibly illogical conclusion that popularity had better be avoided entirely, just in case.

Arriving early on Saturday, the first music I was exposed to in the tranquil arboretum area of the Radio 3 Stage was the mesmeric and gorgeous sounds of Leicester sitarist Roopa Panesar floating from the stage, with dreamy oboe-like shenhai adding to the musical mix.

Various Artists: Saint Etienne Present Songs for a Central Park Picnic

If there’s a patron saint of WOMAD it must be Bob Marley. His visage, serious but gentle, peers out from more T-shirts than I care to count. And all the festival-goers who don’t have WOMAD-standard long, white, straggly hair sport dreadlocks. The silliest haircut goes to a fellow in (again) WOMAD-standard travellers’ pantaloons who sports small knots of hair, each tied with a different coloured elastic band.

Just how loyal is the average hip hop fan? This was the question on many lips after the fiasco that the previous Wu-Tang tour in 2011 turned out to be. Their last sojourn on these shores was marred by members dropping out at the last minute and a general lack of organisation. There was pressure this time for the band to deliver.

I am a WOMAD virgin. “Princey will be here later, he usually frequents this bar,” a man with straggly white hair tells me as I wander aimlessly about. I think he means Prince Rogers Nelson, the diminutive rock star who sang “Purple Rain”, and I grow vaguely animated. He starts telling me about how last year he advised Prince not to shoot civilians and begins a short diatribe about how Prince is falling into the ways of his father and his grandfather. My mind is slow. The sun and the marijuana has done its work. He means Harry, doesn’t he? My excitement fades.

Michael Hurley: Armchair Boogie / Hi Fi Snock Uptown