Love Supreme must be blessed by the jazz gods because for its fifth year Glynde Place was once again bathed in a high summer glow.

The good cheer was contagious at a festival marked by tasteful contrasts between young and old, avant-garde and popular, hip and comfortable. One artist who embodied this pervasive positive energy was Corinne Bailey Rae, a singer songwriter whose early career hype has faded in the intervening 10 years.

Her uncontained joy performing during her sunset performance was irresistible, jazz chops played up by a buoyant band, her voice more powerful with age, even on the slow ballad Just Like a Star.

Before Bailey Rae, the younger generation was represented in the shape of pixie-esque Nao, whose futuristic electro funk was enjoyably abrasive and invigorating, particular on standout track Girlfriend. Over at the Big Top, Mica Paris draw a huge crowd for her Ella Fitzgerald repertoire, with plenty of love for her rendition of Summertime.

In contrast to Paris’ trad jazz, Canadian quartet BadBadNotGood represented the young guard, their cerebral take on contemporary jazz wafting into the dusk. Still, BadBadNotGood showed deference and humility with respect to the man next up on stage, Herbie Hancock, who himself was taken aback by his response: “I can’t believe I’ve never played here before, man this is great!”

The jazz fusion pioneer took no prisoners with his freewheeling jams, the dense Big Top only thinning out as anticipation of The Jacksons on the main stage grew. There may have been one member conspicuous by his absence, but the memory of late brother Michael was mined for all it was worth during an enjoyable, but at times schmaltzy set.

There was plenty of uptempo grooving to be had, and at one point the dancing brothers rattled through a medley of blink and you’ll miss it hits, including One More Chance and ABC. There were lulls though, an unnecessary documentary montage of the Jacksons’ early life being one, while Tito’s solo interlude will not trouble Michael’s legacy.

Jermaine mostly held it together at as frontman, though his voice is nothing on Michael’s, and his theatrical moves during a ballad in tribute to his brother felt hammy bordering on cynical.

The party went on late into the night for those with stamina, disco don Joey Negro raising the Arena with wall to wall anthems, and Nightmares on Wax a little more esoteric in the woodland area. And man of the moment Jeremy Corbyn even made a cameo appearance, if not in person than in the now infamous chants last heard at Glastonbury.

Sunday is generally more easy listening, and George Benson, who started his career in jazz, but has segued into more R&B territory cheered the camp chair and prosecco crowd. The 10 times Grammy award winner has an abundance of cute guitar licks, though he treads a suspect balance between dance floor boppers like Give Me The Night and outright cheese.

Meanwhile Laura Mvulu was putting on her own event at the Big Top, polyphonic band backed songs like Green Garden making a good shout for the main stage status. There seemed to be more going on at the site this year, so even if you weren't by the main stage, you could catch an impromptu piano set in one of the bars.

It was another undeniably strong year for the festival, which continues to showcase an ever impressive spectrum of styles from the traditional to the experimental.