Oliver Gray reports from the Isle of Wight Festival

The line-up at our local talisman festival knocked Glastonbury into a cocked (jester's) hat with a bill to die for.

Things didn't get off to a great start on the Friday though with more "Easy Listening for the TV Ad Generation" in the form of The Feeling and Groove Armada.

The Virgin Radio tent was the place to be and their hospitality and efficiency were second to none.

I nearly choked on my cocktail, however, on discovering that it was named after Virgin's breakfast show DJ Christian O'Connell.

This is a person to whom I had the dubious honour of attempting to teach French during his Winchester teenage years. This is Fascinating Fact one.

Fascinating Fact two: Snow Patrol were initially signed by the Jeepster label, run by Winchester's Stef D'Andrea.

Their anthemic music was all a bit squeaky-clean for a festival headlining slot, as the stream of punters heading for bed demonstrated.

Saturday dawned with the Menschen, the band of Winchester's very own Tali Trow. That is Fascinating Fact three.

Soon after came Donovan, the original UK Peace and Love troubadour, last seen at the IOW Festival in 1970. Mass sing-alongs to Sunshine Superman and Mellow Yellow suited the mood perfectly.

The impressive left-field funk and ska of the charming Amy Winehouse had the whole field jumping.

Wolfmother were total fun, and brazenly usurped the approach of the honorary patron Saint of the Isle of Wight, Jimi Hendrix.

Ash blew it by trying out new material on a crowd that wasn't really up for it. A lovely band, but they do miss Charlotte Hatherley to fill out their sound.

Kasabian then came close to stealing the whole show with a set of deceptive subtlety. Sadly, this highlight competed directly with the Island's own brilliant Bees, relegated to the Hipshaker tent but standing out as the most honest and genuine act on show.

Muse's preposterous pomp-rock triumphed because of its sheer bravado.

Coming across as an amalgam of Kenneth Williams and Liberace, the Persil-white Matt Bellamy was second only to Jagger in the weekend's showmanship stakes.

Sunday was a delightfully eclectic mish-mash of crazy contrasts, for example Country Joe being followed by Melanie C.

Sporty Spice's performance was somewhat overshadowed by the revelation that the Stones and their stage set were coming in by private ferry and that the 200-strong entourage was staying at Keith Richards' Sussex mansion.

The distressingly bland James Morrison provided an ideal opportunity for a mass nap, but the crowd woke up again when Scotsman Paolo Nutini did his cheery set.

Anyone with the chutzpah to entertain the audience with extracts from The Jungle Book will always be a festival hit.

The unremittingly frantic Fratellis joined many other bands in employing a brass section.

There was something deliciously fateful about Keane preceding the Stones.

In keeping with the day's eclecticism, their huge sing-alongs and undeniable quality ironically made them a perfect warm-up for the rock and roll maelstrom that was to follow.

Literally exploding on to the stage with Start Me Up, the old troupers certainly understood how to turn an event into an occasion.

The first 15 minutes was a brilliant demonstration of their rhythm and blues roots, and bringing on Paulo Nutini and Amy Winehouse for duets with Mick Jagger was an act of pure genius.

However, the Stones were by no means at their best, some of the technology being over-taxed by the unfamiliar environment.

The two songs fronted by Keith, Wanna Hold You and Slipping Away, allowed the momentum to slip, and he himself was off form on guitar, fluffing several intros and frequently drifting out of key.

None of this mattered much because the man is such a total hero to the entire audience that just to be so near to him and the rest of the Stones felt like a privilege.

Wonderful music, great organisation, a nice environment; we can be darn proud of our local (global) festival.