13 March 2009 (gig)
20 March 2009
In 2007 Bloc debuted as an alternative dance music festival showcasing underground heroes such as A Guy Called Gerald and Luke Vibert in an isolated windswept part of Norfolk. Merely three years on and not only is Bloc boasting household names such as the Aphex Twin on the line-up but in a similar transformation the venue for the festival has graduated from Pontins to Butlins. This may not sound like much of a leap, but anyone who attended both events will testify that Butlins is a significant step-up in the seaside resort world. Three years from now they’ll probably be playing on a private island on the moon with Notorious BIG and Jesus headlining.
For the time being however our party just marvelled at the novelty of not having to buy electricity cards to make a cup of tea before the rave began. The first room we ventured into was Red Bloc, which appeared to be the room where they shoved all the grimy, dirty tunes. Darker than a repossessed home which hasn’t paid the leccy bill, on Friday it housed dubstep, and some very pleasing dubstep it was too. Plastician played to a crowd who were more than warm to his brand of beats, and by the time Rusko came on the audience were practically throbbing. Despite a cracking set full of crowd-pleasers I escaped during Kode 9’s set in an effort to find something with a little more variety and faster BPM.
Luckily the ever-engaging Rob da Bank was on in Jak Bloc, the smallest and most amusing of the venues. Surrounded by fake chandeliers and bar staff wearing t-shirts advertising Butlins’ next '70’s reunion weekend, Jak Bloc seemed to be the venue for all of the miscellaneous acts of the weekend. On Saturday night the stage hosted DJs dressed up like the Village People, in full cowboy and Indian gear. This frivolity obviously affronted the security staff, as during this set a bouncer took umbrage to my friend’s enthusiastic usage of a day-glo horn and threatened to snap it over his head if he blew it again.
It was in these auspicious surroundings on Saturday night that I discovered that garage has been rebranded 'bassline house’ in what I assume is an attempt to negate the connotations of 16 year olds happy slapping each other to the sound of So Solid Cru. For anyone who loved garage but wasn’t fond of flirting with death at grime clubs, get yourself down to a bassline house night club; the same groove, just with less knife-toting MCs performing in cages. On the contrary, at Bloc Weekend this new breed of garage comes fronted by gyrating trannies sporting white wigs and hula-hoops (although rumour has it this isn’t the case in Sheffield).
The survivors of the weekend ended up expending the last of their energies in Centre Bloc, Minehead’s most loved cinema which masqueraded as Bloc’s main stage when the sun went down. It was here I witnessed brave breakdancers showcasing their moves on a carpet sticky with the residue of a million old WKDs consumed to the sounds of Red Coats singing 'YMCA’. The most unusual aspect of their performance however was that they continued their efforts long after Afrika Bambaataa’s breaking-friendly hip-hop had been replaced by Carl Craig spinning techno.
Herein lies the beauty of Bloc. In a scene where so many affectionados are too cool to dance, where audiences are usually more concerned with the movement of the DJ’s hands than their own feet, and where expressing an affection for glowsticks is akin to admitting a love of Gary Glitter, it is a blessed relief to go to a club night where affecting the usual aloof frown is nearly impossible. Snobbery is out of the question when you’re dancing in a room that is usually host to families doing the Timewarp. To be able to dance to decent beats with a grin on your face is a rarity. To be able to spend a whole weekend doing so is nothing short of heavenly. Long live Bloc.
Image: AGT Rave Cru captured by Matthew Smith
