Seasick Steve emerges to rapturous applause and a standing ovation from the chair-punters, such is the anticipation for this world weary bluesman. Wearing a weathered cap and overalls, Seasick Steve is a consummate performer regaling us with short stories in between his meandering stripped back blues.

The dog hisself, his three-stringed guitar and adorned stompbox are joined by a Woodstock-era drummer for I Started Out With Nothing And I Still Got Most Of It Left. His drumming gives Animal from The Muppets a run for his money and gets everyone shaking around to his shuffling blues.

Sound quality is incredibly crisp and loud at the Crossroads, and the huge video screen set high above the crowd lets everyone enjoy the show wherever they are under the tent. Thankfully, there are only a few moments of sub bass rumble bleed from the oversized hoover played by That 1 Guy at Jambalaya stage.

I venture deep into the tent to take up prime viewing position for Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. Sound isn’t as clear here, but this big band extravaganza is a visual feast as well as an aural one. Alternating between cool and hot jazz (but always swing) these boys play the hell outta their set.

Lacking space to really swing, the punters have to make do with fervent clapping and jiggling along to their impossible-to-stand-still-to show tunes. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy are the real swing deal: dapper gents in suits, a five-strong horn section, playful lyrics, smoking solos, painfully tight rhythm section, call and response with the crowd, synchronized dance moves, group harmonies and scat. Shazam! – They cover Cab Calloway’s Reefer Man with a ripsnorting trombone solo.

Jumping Jack is the song that started it all for Big Bad Voodoo Daddy: sixteen years on and with original lineup intact, this tune along with Minnie The Moocher, You And Me And The Bottle Makes Three and closer Go Daddy O sound better than ever.

The Buttery Recovery Choir – whose constituents have all battled drug, alcohol or gambling additions – has plenty of feel good factor but limited musical appeal to this reviewer. It feels incongruous to have a beer in hand at their performance, so I slink off to Irishman Luka Bloom, who also falls short of delivering a captivating set. There’s no denying the troubadour’s folk mastery, but his vocals seems to fall flat today.

Ben Harper continues the downward decline of musicality this evening. His new ensemble Relentless 7 are young kids who look more suited to joining Plain White Ts than Ben, who in this reviewer’s mind has evolved from a soulful and original songman into a samey peddler of acoustic cheese, no more interesting than the countless imitations he spawned. However, an amazing cover of David Bowie’s Under Pressure shows off his new skinsman’s enormous talent and somewhat redeems a set that can only be described as boring.

Mojo stage is awkwardly designed: the video screen allows the casual concert watcher to sit and relax further up the hill from the stage, but without relay speakers this setup is like watching a bad movie with dodgy sound.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m having a ragingly good time here, and I am very surprised to be disappointed by a few lacklustre performances on the only sold-out day of the festival. This is no doubt due in part to my ultra high expectations of Bluesfest, having seen the festival program the ultimate assembly of performers – James Brown, Sinead O’Connor, Ziggy Marley, Lee Scratch Perry, John Mayer and Cake spring to mind – over the past two decades.

I’ll try Ben Harper again on Monday night between Easy Star All Stars and Alpha Blondie, along with the chili chocolate chicken mol’e everyone keeps banging on about.