Butlins, Minehead

As the curtain fell a day and a half early on their 2012 event, Bloc. left thousands of ticket buyers stumbling out of London Pleasure Fields, misplaced and confused.

For many, it was an disorientating experience, and for the organisers, an unprecedented and unavoidable disaster that spiralled rapidly out of their control. So, having slowly built up the brand with their series of Autumn Studios parties, Bloc.’s official re-embrace of the weekender was eagerly anticipated. It was with a palpable air of devotion that the faithful returned to the immense charm of the holiday park for Bloc.’s comeback.

Taking place over five large stages that met at the focal point of the domed arcade, proceedings were booted into life on Friday, with DJs flinging out no holds barred techno from the charmingly tacky pub stage since the early afternoon. Heading in to the FACT stage for a back-to-back set from DJ Qu and October, it was clear that both the DJs and the crowd had a similar idea here, with tracks like Barnt’s jarring slammer Chappell receiving a raucous reception at just 6pm. Indeed, many artists ramped up the intensity of the music to fit into an hour time slot. While it might be difficult to condense a Mr. Ties set into one hour, Francesco de Nittis was certainly giving it his best shot, mixing buoyant house with bright, hardcore influenced sounds to an adoring crowd.

We reluctantly tore ourselves away, heading to the Centre stage to check out the legendary New York band ESG, whose sharply percussive, minimal disco-punk had soundtracked our pre-Bloc. preparations in the Crack office earlier that day. Unfortunately, however, this incarnation of ESG fell flat with a slightly lethargic-sounding rhythm section. A shame.

Following ESG is Hudson Mohawke, who promised absurdity by warming up with a wall of rave synths blended with a sped-up sample of Drake’s Hold On We’re Going Home. Jumping between ambient tracks, crowd-rousing snippets of TNGHT bangers and some admittedly dodgy dubstep territory, the most euphoric moment came in the form of Kanye West’s All Day, the anthem-of-the-moment which had been mastered in Hud Mo’s London studio.

Once a vocal sample of the sentence “‘The White Man’, I say to you over and over again’” had been looped for so long that the words began to form melodies in the audience’s minds, Dean Blunt emerged on Saturday’s Crack stage from total darkness. Joined by Joanne Robertson (who played a vital role on Blunt’s album BLACK METAL) on vocals and guitar, a saxophone player and – of course – a bodyguard who remained motionless behind him throughout the set, Blunt strutted with a swagger that was part rapper, part Liam Gallagher – a stage presence deliberately at odds with the roughly sampled indie-pop and moody synth soundscapes blaring from the soundsystem. Midway through the set, a sensual assault was executed with abrasive strobe-lighting and a painfully high note that disintegrated into a hiss of white noise. After persisting with the strobe for so long that audience members can be seen fleeing the venue, the lighting suddenly cut to red, and the poignant saxophone line of GRADE feels like the flicker of a campfire in the foggy landscape of a post-apocalyptic metropolis.

In terms of atmosphere, the weekend reached a high when Moodymann blessed the Red stage with his presence. With an approach so relaxed that a member of his entourage remained fast asleep behind the decks for the whole set, the veiled Detroit icon loosely mixed his own hits with similarly languid, soulful tracks and the odd hip-hop track before bringing out Three Chairs member Rick Wilhite and Omar-S as surprises guest and pouring out shots for the audience members in the front rows. Quite the party.

Debauchery ensued over at the FACT stage as veteran Chicago sleazebag DJ Funk unleashed his typically raw style of ghetto house that pushes beyond the 140bpm mark. Regularly grabbing up the mic to chant the kind of filthy rhymes synonymous with the man behind bangers such as Booty Clap, Booty Bounce and Big Ole’ Booty, Funk’s sheer filthiness made the drunker dancers totally lose their inhibitions, and steam could be seen rising from the crowd.

While a substantial chunk of the weekend’s line-up focused on sleek techno, with the likes of Rødhåd, Karenn and Jeff Mills filling up 2am-6am slots with slick, pummelling sounds, various artists ventured further off piste on the Main Stage, with Robert Hood playing a decidedly funky selection of weighty techno, and Autechre performing demanding, anti-rhythmic tangles of sound in complete darkness.

Helena Hauff was another act to steer away from charismatic 4×4. Attracting a sizable crowd to the Crack stage on Saturday evening, she ran through a typically eclectic mix of dark ambient grumblings, ferocious EBM, vintage new wave and breakneck electro. Later on in the Crack stage, Traxx explored the darker end to his frenetic, hazy style, and Ron Morelli played a seamless selection of vintage electro alongside newer cuts from Gesloten Cirkel as a foggy haze descended onto the sometime sports bar.

Many punters dusted themselves off early on the Sunday to soak up the last hours of the weekend. Embracing the theme of the day, ‘jungle is massive’, a resilient crowd could be found soaking up the frenzied sounds in the jungle and drum’n’bass-dedicated Reds stage. With only three of the five stages open and music ending at 2am, the room was impressively animated as a euphoric rush of 90s classics closed out the festival. With the likes of Ben UFO and Raime exploring murky, jagged drum’n’bass, it was Dillinja’s celebratory selection of his own productions that brought the atmosphere to boiling point. Ending on Omni Trio’s Renegade Snares, SP:MC seemed genuinely overwhelmed at the energy in the room, for what was a gleeful nod to the genre’s ongoing relevance.

Though the standard of dance music was excellent throughout, it wasn’t the only thrill central to the Bloc. experience. It’s there in the strangely comforting sensation of fully carpeted dancefloors, or the mind-bending Japanese horror on Bloc TV, or even the reality jolt of bumping into Aphex Twin during a 5am arcade session. While it was rumoured that RDJ would be playing the Sunday special guest slot, this turned out to be untrue. We also heard that he had, in fact, just bought a ticket and turned up, which we hope holds more accuracy. Because there was a similar sense of loyalty in the crowd that had relished in Bloc.’s return proper. It was a reminder of a legacy that is both rich and rewarding, and that occupies a special place at the heart of British clubbing culture. Long may it continue.

blocweekend.com