It seems that anyone turning up ticketless on this drizzly October Saturday is doomed to get no satisfaction. It’s not yet 4.00 pm and the queue of eager music fans waiting for their wristbands outside Cowley Road Methodist Church is stretching round the block: a sell-out. I ignore the queue for now and squeeze into Truck Store, where delicate alt-folkist Eloise Rees is charming shoppers with her warm and witty songs. It’s difficult to see anything through the shelves and crowd, but as ever the shop’s PA sounds great and that’s what matters. After the performance I overhear the Truck Store crew regretfully informing numerous people that Gathering has – once again – sold out in advance.

The timetable I am handed with my wristband gives little away about the performers except their stage times, which is slightly disconcerting as I’m unfamiliar with most of the names; however, I suppose this way I’m more likely to discover something that surprises me. I pop in to see what Nathan Ball is up to at the Cowley Road Methodist Church. He is nervously wielding an acoustic guitar in the church’s large assembly room, unfortunately competing against the noise of the queuing crowd downstairs. Nevertheless his songs, somewhere between Nick Drake and Ben Howard, are heartfelt and thought-provoking, if a little self-conscious.

With a mental apology to Nathan, I sneak out early to catch the end of Lauren Aquilina’s set at St John the Evangelist. It’s the perfect venue for the young Bristolian, her strong voice rising into the eaves and reverberating majestically around the church. She is a charismatic and confident performer, and her “excruciatingly honest” songs tempt comparisons to Florence Welch.

After three singer-songwriters, I want to have a bit of a jostle around to some energetic indie-rock, but the East Oxford Community Centre is so full that I can’t get anywhere near Pyyramids – it sounds good from the outside, though. Instead, I return to the Methodist Church for a look at Ady Suleiman’s unique take on ‘prep-reggae’ – an MC doing his thing over lilting acoustic guitar chords. It’s soulful enough but I continue on my quest for noisy guitars, eventually rewarded with Mt. Wolf’s excellent dream-pop at St. John’s. Their atmospheric set concludes with current single ‘Midnight Shallows’, an excellent spine-tingling crescendo of noise that seems to take on an otherworldly quality, alongside the languid twilight through the stained glass. I think St John’s may be my new favourite venue, regardless of the fact that it’s about four quid for a small can of tepid Asahi lager.

Moving on to the O2 Academy, I’m glad for the press pass that allows me to jump the queue. Opening proceedings at the venue are Spring Offensive, a clean-cut indie quintet with a post-hardcore tint, all melodic angst and grimace. Considering that half of Oxford is waiting outside for their bags to be searched, it’s a bit frustrating that the room is only about a quarter full, and as another audience member points out, the same people will be searched every time they change venues. However, the band are content to rock on regardless.

Upstairs, Candy Says bring the ultimate in nerdy 60s cartoon space-punk. Imagine a Kraftwerk consisting of feisty riot grrls dressed as the Jetsons, and you’re halfway there. There’s a touch of classic Blondie and a dash of Daft Punk, and the chemistry onstage is fantastic. The crowd is really getting into it too, and a fledgling moshpit attempts to manifest. My favourite part is the extract from Gershwin’s ‘Summertime’ that’s sneaked into ‘Kiss Kill’. It’s a great show, and like nothing else on the bill.

At the Bullingdon – or whatever it’s calling itself these days – Gold & Youth are setting up a shoegazey set of harmonious noisy rock, sort of like Mystery Jets with more reverb. The sound mix isn’t quite right but there’s a decent crowd here and the atmosphere is good.

I head to the Community Centre for a bite to eat and am pleasantly surprised by Khushi, a soulful indie-pop quartet with very catchy tunes. Midway through their frontman explains that the gorgeous 12-stringed Rickenbacker in his hands is not his usual instrument, which was stolen recently, so the sound is probably not standard for the group, but it’s lending itself well to the tuneful arrangements. I don’t know what I was expecting from the band but they are one of my highlights so far.

It seems now that each of the venues is full of people content to wait for their favourite acts, so when I turn up to see New York noisemongers Waxahatchee, quite a chunk of the audience is waiting for chart-bothering indie kids To Kill A King to start. It doesn’t seem to be quite the right venue for Waxahatchee, and they don’t look comfortable, with singer Katie Crutchfield squinting into the bright spotlight trained on her face, and it takes a while to get the mix right. Once in full flow, however, their grunge-indebted rock is deeply satisfying.

Poking my head into the Bullingdon once again, I am treated to some throbbing psychedelic loveliness at the hands of Jaymes Young. Melancholy but without mawkishness, Young’s music is a cocktail of genres: a hint of blues with urban basslines and some captivating and original guitar dynamics. Is there something of James Blake in there?

O2 headliners Local Natives are known for their lush harmonies, taut and minimal synchronisation, and intense percussion, and tonight’s performance is no exception. The O2 is claustrophobically full, and the five-piece band captivates the audience with their tightness and intensity. Their cover of Talking Heads’ ‘Warning Sign’ is always a highlight, but it’s ‘Sun Hands’ that really gets everyone going.

It’s difficult to follow a headliner as vibrant as Local Natives, but I’ve heard good things about Cheatahs and so I drag myself away. I am treated to a personal highlight. Cheatahs are pulsing with energy and tempt out the dancers in the crowd – though they have to jostle for space alongside the others trying to mosh. It’s tightly controlled noise-pop at its finest, and Cheatahs are rewarded with a rapidly quashed stage-invasion at the end of their set.

Then, just when you think it’s safe to relax, Sheffield sibling duo Drenge take to the stage and all hell breaks loose. Has the Bullingdon ever experienced a fuller, drunker, happier moshpit than this? Probably, but this is still pretty epic. Drenge play fantastic brattish punk rock and of all the buzz bands that have appeared today, they are the buzziest. Beer is thrown, crowds are surfed, criminal damage is narrowly avoided, and I wish that all riots could be as much fun.

I stick around for Swearin’, although it’s now after midnight and the debauched majority of Drenge’s crowd has moved on to the club nights at the O2. This doesn’t seem to bother Swearin’, who grin and joke their way through a cheerful set of wryly worded slacker-rock songs, less grungy and more goofy than their comrades Waxahatchee (the singers are sisters). It’s catchy and energetic stuff for anyone still awake enough to bop along.

A resounding success, then, Gathering 2013. It’s been a good way to see some local artists, as well as some of the bands currently lighting up the blogs. The festival has a great atmosphere and – dare I say it? – evidently has room to grow, although one of its best selling points is that all of the venues are close together. I would like to see a bit more information in the programme, and perhaps a more fluid door policy to get people in and out between sets, however you can’t fault the organisers their taste in selecting acts. Thanks, Gathering, and see you next year.