It seems with this, their fifth studio album, New Jersey's Gaslight Anthem have well and truly left behind the punk of their earlier releases, seguing in to the nostalgic rock'n'roll flirted with on 2012's Handwritten. Of course, that doesn't mean to say that Get Hurt sees the band mellowing out entirely, the softer elements are certainly more prevalent and the lyrics more introspective but often these moments of poignancy are interspersed with the driving, stadium-sized choruses the band have come to be masters of. As such, the record is built around a dichotomy of intimacy and anthemics that works, for the most part.

There's always been a preoccupation with nostalgia present within Gaslight's lyricism; a wistful romanticism that has been brought further in to the picture with each and every record. And the same can be said for Get Hurt, Brian Fallon's trademark sincerity has always been a staple of Gaslight's output, as well as the rose-tinted Americana which here takes a back-seat in favour of a brooding narrative. And herein lies one of the few issues with the record, their foray into the realms of stadium-rock and almost-balladry make the lyricism of tracks such as the eponymous 'Get Hurt' feel self-indulgent, and a far cry from the resonance of The '59 Sound. That said however, penultimate number 'Break Your Heart' benefits from that which detracts from 'Get Hurt'; with the polish stripped away there's no pretences surrounding the sincerity which gives the track far more of a feeling of legitimacy than the aforementioned 'Get Hurt'.

Elsewhere the album still has some bombastic tendencies but for the most part feels like the final step in the maturing process for the band. Never quite wholly self-indulgent, but always ambitious. Gone too are the metaphors and parables – no more Marias, or Marys or Janes. This is the sound of Fallon facing his demons head on. From opener 'Stay Vicious' this is evident, with the lyrics addressing his subject as “you”, something not often seen before. The lack of proper nouns might well seem trivial those not too familiar with Gaslight's back catalogue, but it really does signify a step away from the band's glamourised 1950s ideals.

Get Hurt is bound to have its detractors, the polish and fully-realised stadium sound might lack the grit that made the earlier releases so appealing. But for those of us who have been there since Sink or Swim this is the sound of the band leaving behind the “blue jeans and white t-shirts”, breaking free of the Bruce Springsteen comparisons and feeling comfortable enough to expand their sound comprehensively without losing their sense of ambition, nor their sense of poignant yarn-spinning.

Waking up on the final day of the festival, yesterday's weather is long forgotten, the skies are blue and the sounds of Mr Frank Turner sound-checking on the Main Stage are a welcome diversion from the bloke who looks like he's in a metal band loudly vomiting a few metres away. Whether his sudden expulsion was from hearing Frank, or whether it was last night's overindulgences we never find out, as we decide to hit the arena in time for the first band, Pontefract's Glass Caves.

Having stumbled upon the band busking acoustically in York several months back, we're intrigued to see what they sound like plugged in. The answer to that is simple. Loud. Drawing a not unreasonable size crowd for the first band of the day, anyone would think the band were trying to deafen their audience's hangovers in to submission. And whilst their sound is fairly generic, it's easy to see the band going places given the right support.

After a brief breakfast, we hit the Main Stage again to catch Leeds' Menace Beach, referred to as an “indie super-group” the band and its revolving cast of members uphold a distinctly grungey/slacker vibe. Unfortunately, the first couple of tracks are marred by muddy sound levels, though is seemingly sorted out by the third number and the band proceed to put on one of the best sets we've seen this early over the weekend.

Next up are Natives, who for us sound a little too You Me At Six for us to get excited by. Understandably however there are pockets of the audience to which they go down particularly well - proof of the popularity of the genre as much the band themselves. They do have an excellent rapport with the crowd though, which has notably doubled during their set.

A welcome yet unusual inclusion for a Main Stage band now, in the form of King Pleasure & the Biscuit Boys who are something of a Y-Not institution. The band's funk/blues/soul spectacle is enough to get anyone dancing, especially when they drop a cover of classic 'Tequila'. Having supported the likes of Ray Charles before, they've certainly got something about them, and though it's a fairly niche appeal the band hold, when you play to a field full of drunk people anything they can dance to will go down fantastically, as evidenced today.

Keeping in tradition with the weekend's '00s indie bands, The Sunshine Underground entertain an impressively large crowd, recounting the time they played the first ever Y-Not and had to be dragged in on a tractor. Due to time restraints, the band are cut short after only 5 songs, which could explain the lack of 'Borders'.

Despite Palma Violets popularity last year, the band have been strangely quiet of late, and it feels somewhat odd seeing them so high up the bill. All becomes apparent when the band take to the stage however. The crowd surges forward and singer Sam Fryer slurs his vocals like a drunk Iggy Pop. Having been disappointed with Palma Violets' debut 180, we'd written them off somewhat prematurely; seeing those songs live is a different matter entirely and tracks such as 'Step Up for the Cool Cats' and 'Best of Friends' have always been impressive, the latter of which whips the crowd in to a frenzy, every word screamed back at the band. “Yorkshire, Yorkshire,” chants Fryer cheekily prior to their last track, causing more of a furore in front of him. As the band finish, a rainbow appears above the Main Stage, and De La Soul can be spotted behind the stage, smoking last minute cigarettes. Both go unbeknownst to the crowd below.

Whilst we were obviously aware of De La Soul's legacy and knew that we would regret not seeing them live, we'd never really given them more than cursory listen. As far as live rappers go, we've seen a fair few too, but not enough to be any kind of an expert. Tonight however, the crowd's reaction says it all, more than a few people knowing each track word for word. They play a set that spans a whole career, ending with party track 'Ring, Ring, Ring', which has been in our heads ever since.

Next however, is the set we've been waiting for all weekend, and judging by the swelling numbers around us, so too has the rest of the festival. Frank Turner might well be one of those people who constantly divides opinion, but lately it seems more and more people really are behind him, and not even the kind of people you would expect. As an old English poem begins to emit from the stage, a lady in front of us takes her hair out of its bobble, shivers slightly and lifts her arms in to the air. It's the kind of sight you would expect at Glastonbury, but then again the lady in question looks like the kind of person who would read poems at the Stone Circle at Glastonbury so it sort of makes sense.

All thoughts are interrupted by the opening notes of 'Photosynthesis', and we realise once again why it is we keep coming back to see Frank Turner. His energy is second to none, bouncing back and forth between guitarist Ben Lloyd andbassist Tarrant Anderson with all the energy of a punk show. The crowd lap up every minute; newer material going down just as well as older songs. Given how extensive his back catalogue is, and his hours allotted stage time, not everyone is going to get to hear their favourite song, but with the likes of 'The Road', 'Try This At Home' and 'Long Live the Queen' no-one is likely to complain. Of course more recent tracks such as 'The Way I Tend To Be' and closing track 'Four Simple Words' lack the rawness of others, but they more than make up for it in resonance. Turner's ability to put together a set that feels like one big party, despite the poignancy of some of the tracks is a testament to him as a front-man, and though his set feels over all too soon, we go away safe in the knowledge that it won't be long before we get to see him again.

With heavy eyes, we decide to make a break for the car, heading home as soon as we can so as to avoid the following morning's traffic. And though we might have missed one night of partying, Twitter and Instagram on Monday prove we've made the right decision. Having never been to Y-Not before, we didn't know what to expect, but as it happens it's a fantastic festival right on our doorstep. There's a definite family-friendly vibe that runs throughout, but for those who want their weekend a little more reckless there's plenty of opportunity for that as well. All in all we've seen some great bands, some average bands, and a few bloody brilliant ones and we can't wait to hit it up next year.