IT was a downright mellow start to a festival whose "experimental" tag might threaten thornier listening: evening sun streaming through the church windows, a whispered, wandering opening set from Glasgow singer/guitarist Gareth Dickson.

The first night of Counterflows 2013 gathered performances of fierce originality and emotional sincerity from musicians who have spent their lives seeking out new sounds and ignoring parameters. What struck me (and what made the evening so enjoyable) was the gravitational pull of lyricism as a communicative tool – the power, even within far-flung free improvisation and unbridled wackiness, of song, of melody, of tangible rhythms and soft-edged sounds.

Dickson provided less of a warm-up than an unwind act, an ambient sonic rumination to slow us and quieten us down to his pace. His songs are spacious and introspective, darkly haunting like Sparklehorse, wistful like Bon Iver, intimate like Nick Drake. He adds loops and reverb to sparse guitar lines; it's hushed and candid, beautifully unhurried. The evening progressed naturally from there. An intriguing duo set from American blues(ish) artist Loren Connors and singer/poet Suzanne Langille: him tugging hazy, twisted sounds out of his guitar, her half-speaking, half-singing dreamlike stories about eagles and leopards, soulful and vulnerable, murmured sleepily while the guitar pulsated like heat haze. Near the end of their set she drifted into Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child and he responded with jaggy, melancholic countermelodies. Lovely stuff.

Next Kan Mikami, the inimitable Japanese blues/folk legend of the Tokyo underground, whose full-body crooning was mesmerising to experience live. By turns sweet and gravelly, fitful and smooth, with a touch of Portuguese Fado to his soulful warble, his vocal finesse was stunning – even his screaming sounded somehow lyrical. With broad waves of energy and kaleidoscopic texture from drummer Alex Neilson and a guest appearance from Texan guitarist Jandek, this was a visceral, passionate collaboration, unforgettable to witness.

Later, the gathering moved west a few streets to Mono, where Jarse – "psychedelic minimalism from the south coast of Finland" by their own description – layered twangy loops, drones and gentle beats while a string of oversized fairy lights twinkled on-and-off in time. I'd rather have done without the final act Glasgow hip-hop band Hector Bizerk – by far the least original act of the night – and gone home with the bewitching sound of Jarse ringing in my ears.

HHHH