Conceived by Pulp's Steve Mackay, the Auto festival is intended as a "platform for current musical, visual and multimedia projects", seeking to reintroduce playfulness and unpredictability - the biggest question being whether it will be headliners Pulp's last ever gig.

Auto will possibly run annually, and is modelled on Spain's Sonar festival, a much larger event that unveils new electronica amid the hubbub of industry. There's a vague link in Auto's championing of semi-obscure electronic acts, although on many levels the two events are worlds apart.

Holding Auto in the Magna Science Fiction Centre - a cavernous former steelworks - is a radical but flawed gesture. The science fiction feel is palpable, but the place is so cold that up to 3,500 punters huddle together in big coats, looking bewildered. Keeping warm means moving from room to room as quickly as possible, flitting between a so-so line-up of DJs, bands and films of exploding eyeballs.

Baxter Dury has the right idea, donning a scarf that keeps him warm and provides a touching memory of his dad Ian that's not always obvious in his sci-fi, idiosyncratic sounds. In adjoining rooms, Capitol K don woolly hats to sound like a modern Gong, Lemon Jelly's acoustic/ electric soundscapes provide some cheer, while John Peel plays the Fall for the 345,876th time in 25 years.

Pulp are rightly outspoken about the corporate blandness of mainstream festivals, but they could take tips on organisation. Here, bands run late, food consists of hot dogs or hot dogs, and the queues for the inadequate bars would qualify for the Guinness Book of Records.

"My thumbs are blue," somebody sighs, as the Bees' well-received set of sea-shanty funk is cut short. Some of the "entertainment" tests the patience. "Are you bored yet?" asks a video slogan. Visual artists the Light Surgeons soundtrack films of airports with Eno's Music for Airports. Unpredictability?

Pulp rescue their own festival and their appearance prompts a mass desertion of the other stages, turning Auto into a glorified Pulp gig. Is it the last time? "Maybe, who knows?" says Jarvis Cocker at the end of one of their more rousing sets.

As people dash for their hot water bottles, wacky Norwegians Royksopp are left delivering sublime electronica to a two-thirds empty hall. Auto provides glimpses of an alternative - but alternative is not always better.