Too often festivals are a fleeting exchange. You’re herded in, watch some bands, scuff the grass, dirty the Portaloos and leave behind a trail of beer cans. Not so with Playground Weekender, a festival that’s more slowburn romance than throwaway fling. It requires some effort on your part -but like any good relationship, the affection is reciprocal.

Wiseman’s Ferry may be only 90 minutes from Sydney, but in truth it’s worlds away. Coasting along Old Northern Road, you’re flanked by a rolling landscape of deep greens and browns. Once parked on the bank of the Hawkesbury River, revellers board a ferry that leisurely makes its way towards Del Rio Resort. It’s a scenic trip – except for the early arrivers on Friday evening, when all you could see is lashing rain.

The Resort itself is shadowed by a dramatic ridge, with the campsite stretching across a nine-hole golf course. Here, on the neatly-manicured grass, kangaroos loll about, occasionally box, and nod to the distant thud of the Sounds Big Top. Stepping off the ferry, you’re greeted by a – œWelcome’ mat and a giddy sense of anticipation. Straight ahead is the Chai Tent (open conveniently late), with a row of food stalls snaking along the water to the right. Friday’s weather forces the Cocktail Tent to downsize from its usual spot opposite the Main Stage to the river bank, where it’s re-coined The ‘Drunken Duck’. With the same sound system stacked under an intimate marquee, it turns out to be something of a happy accident.

One of the many advantages of hosting a festival in a resort are the already existing features: the pool, some coveted – œproper’ toilets, picnic tables, on-site cabins and, well, even a pokies room. Sadly, these creature comforts aren’t really enough to wring out the soggy first night. The site is belted from above by a wild storm, with some soaked-through punters waiting over an hour before a ferry arrives. Regardless, a smattering of DJs and bands play enthusiastic sets, seeing everyone off to their tents with only slightly dampened spirits (and seriously dampened shoes).

Come Saturday morning, though, the grey skies have moved on and the festival spirit is restored. Fancy dress day certainly helps. Everywhere there’s glitter, feathers, sequins, garish colours and every costume store staple from naughty nurse to Big Bird. Last night’s downpour has had little fallout, except a slight squelch underfoot at the Main Stage. While Ben Lee and Josh Pyke are slightly incongruous selections over there, the Sounds Big Top Tent has a nicely undulating line-up for the day. After Poxy Music’s cruisy live set, Simple Records man Will Saul steps up for the first international slot. Sporting some chic in-ear headphones, the DJ slips into 90 minutes of gently building, irresistibly hooky deep house. He’s perfectly suited for afternoon duties, and hearing the likes of Junior Boys whilst sprawling on the grass is a fine ease-in. Soon enough he’s got a healthy contingent on their feet and locked in a groove.

Despite their short window on the Main Stage, Crazy Penis deliver their usual shimmery live show, with Danielle Moore as resplendent in voice as she is in dress. A postcard-perfect sunset is greeted by the arrival of Kruder & Dorfmeister for their four-hour showing on the Main Stage. It’s rare for a festival set to be so epic, but if there’s anyone with a lot of ground to cover, it’s these guys. Anyone expecting a smoked-out chill session, though, is at the wrong party. With Raz MC T-Weed and the especially excellent MC Earl Zinger joining the DJs on stage, the journey takes in reggae and dub, but also a solid amount of up-tempo house with big, exuberant keys and thick basslines. The revelry spills onto the stage, too. A gaggle of costumed punters dance alongside the MCs, silhouetted against Fritze Fitzke’s immersive visuals. Pirates, chickens, lollipop men and cowgirls all seem to agree; it’s a festival-making set.

Unsurprisingly, heads seem uniformly sore on Sunday morning. Norman Jay pops up early on the main stage with a breezy Good Times set, which proves a perfect soundtrack to that first tentative beer. The numbers thin out with each arriving ferry, but you can tell who’s in it for the long haul. It’s hard to convey how unlike any other festival Playground is, especially on a balmy Sunday when all the colours, from the river to the hills behind, are so vivid. Everyone who disembarks at Del Rio seems to understand what the three days are for.

Feet take a while to mobolise in the Sounds Tent, but South Rakkas Crew regale the tent with some party-geared dancehall and occasional guilty pleasures. By 5pm, the sore heads are being muddied by another round of drinks, and the cheers go up for LTJ Bukem and MC Conrad. While for many (this reviewer included) the onset of inertia makes brocking out a perilous task, it’s the usual round of consummate jazz-tinged drum – œn bass from the UK pair. Conrad has been better on previous visits, but there’s raucous support from the dancefloor.

CocoRosie don’t seem too fazed by the dwindling numbers at the Main Stage, appearing in a wash of psychedelic colour. With an ununsual selection of instruments at hand, including a harp and a megaphone, their angular pop and electronica is suitably lulling as the afternoon cools. Directly after, The Wombats bound onstage like they’re playing to a crowd of 20,000. Their performance is laconic but charged with a bristling energy – all in the name of danceable, bypass-the-brain fun. While The Bionics – the side project of Crazy Penis’s Danielle Moore and Tim Davies – crop up at the Drunken Duck, Ian Brown coolly covers the high-points of his solo career on the Main Stage. His fans, many of them also his compatriots, seem entranced by the intimacy of the performance.

Paul Smith’s impassioned vocals lead from the front as soon as Maximo Park strike their first riff. Black-clad with bowler hat and red tie, the frontman’s idiosyncratic intonations are propelled by vigorous playing from his bandmates. Tracks like Girls Who Play Guitars and Our Velocity are a rousing send-off to a one-of-a-kind weekend.

Till next time Playground. No other festival comes close.