Ah, the Great British Holiday Camp, a UK institution from the fifties that certainly ranks alongside the likes of the BBC, the National Health Service, and, erm, Cliff Richard. Famous for their cold showers, decrepit blocks of chalets arranged in Kafkaesque mazes of utilitarian bleakness, and infinitely miserable (and possibly inbred) staff, the holiday camp experience was – and maybe still is - closer in practice to a short spell in jail than anything most people would recognise as an enjoyable vacation. However, throw in a three-day marathon of techno, electro, dubstep and nutjob breakcore, and you’ve got the recipe for a unique, distinctly British brand of surreal rave lunacy. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to BLOC 2008…

Day One – Friday

Musically, the first night seems a bit up and down, as they say. Things get off to a flying start with Legowelt’s expertly executed electro-disco and Portable’s complex yet soulful future-house, but Underground Resistance’s highly-anticipated Interstellar Fugitives live show is, in truth, a disappointment. Feeling more like a shoddily thrown together hash of un-enhanced hits than a performance from one the most revered organisations in techno history, frontman Cornelius’ worthy ramblings add little substance to what feels like a dull run-through of some of the greatest electronic music ever made. In the other big arena—the ‘Techbloc’—Dave Clarke is tearing through his usual clutch of buzzing aggro-electro, thumping techno and booty house, and while he’s hardly known for his charisma on or off stage, his blistering cuts and skilful work on the FX unit instantly excites the crowd, eliciting whoops of delight from the outset.

Interstellar Fugitives: “Let me tell you about Detroit,” chants frontman Cornelius. “We already know, thanks,” replies the generally unimpressed crowd. Photo credit: Matt Cheetham

He’s followed by Christian Vogel, who, contrary as ever, decides to invert Clarke’s hi-octane pressure in favour of a super-reduced set of angular, obtuse minimalism, taking its cue more from the sonic experiments of Reich and Riley than from the propulsive drive of the Bloc dancefloor. A brief period of respite in the chalet follows, before we return to catch Rephlex geek-king Ed DMX, who happily provides one of the undoubted highlights of the weekend. Matching unpretentious ravey-ness with body-popping 808s, evergreen techno and classic house grooves, his set is laced with a veneer of cheeriness that offers the perfect counterpoint to Pontins’ increasingly grimcore vibes. Suitably jigged-up, we head back to the labyrinthine depths of the chalet blocks, with the inevitably futile aim of catching some sleep before tomorrow’s onslaught.

Day Two – Saturday

At some point we realise that it’s Saturday afternoon, and head to the Bassbloc arena to catch Modern Love’s deepno sweethearts, Andy Stott and Claro Intelecto. Although the crowd is kinda non-existent at the outset, the duo’s refined set of endless reverbs, honed-down grooves and smart textures soon attracts something resembling a dancefloor, setting the tone for Texas’s criminally underrated Convextion. Bearing a startling likeness to Kevin Bacon circa Planes, Trains and Automobiles, the reclusive purveyor of pristine neo-classic techno hits the spot with rich reworks from his acclaimed eponymous LP, flanked by a smattering of fresh material. We miss Lory D and Milanese—both of whom, apparently, ‘totally rocked’—in favour of treating ourselves to some frankly inedible food from the café, but quickly return to catch another Bloc highlight, this time from the masterful Monolake. As any fan will know, pigeon-holing Robert Henke’s music into one genre or another is near-on impossible; simply saying ‘techno’, ‘minimal’, ‘electronica’ or even ‘dub’ just doesn’t do his supine, elegant sound justice. Suffice to say, his smart, engaging syncopation, hyper-organic synth flutters, and abstract but strangely emotive sense of drama is rapturously received.

Sadly, the same can’t be said for headliner Karl Bartos, or as he and his band quickly become known after their show, ‘cut-price Kraftwerk’. His renditions of classics like ‘Trans Europe Express’ and ‘The Robots’ can’t help but ignite some kind of nostalgic warmth from somewhere deep within, but that pretty much evaporates as soon as he plays any of his own stuff. “I have to take my video back,” intones one particularly inane track, ad infinitum. To his credit, Bartos seems genuinely over-the-moon to be playing to such a large, youthful audience—shame the audience themselves don’t feel the same way.

Photos: Day 2 Juan Atkins at Bloc

Juan Atkins' set was a history of Detroit and bang on the money. Photo credit: Matt Cheetham

Next up is a trip to the dubstep arena for Skream, hoping that he’ll alter our general perception of the genre as minimal drum n bass with extra fart noises. He doesn’t, really, although his cheesy-as-hell rework of The Klaxons’ ‘It’s Not Over Yet’ manages to inspire a shameful attempt to skank with the yout’. But within ten minutes, we’re a bit bored by it all and head back for some real techno, courtesy of ‘Magic’ Juan Atkins. It’s not often that the founder of pretty much everything we know and love actually makes it onto a plane for a gig, but we’re glad he did, with his tight selection of pacey Big D classics (peaking with Red Planet’s evergreen ‘Stardancer)’ prompting huge roars of approval.

NYC’s fiercest B-Boy, Joey Beltram, takes to the stage after Juan, and while his pumping, razor-sleek techno is a bit heavy for our personal tastes, it’s clear we’re in the minority. In what appears to be traditional Bloc style, the acts from here onwards become ever-more blistering, sending us lily-livered types scattering back to the chalet-circuit for more intimate afterparty idiocy.

Day Three – Sunday

By Sunday afternoon, we’re seriously starting to flag, but the comedy antics of Ceephax’s Acid Bingo session soon perk us up, as do the numerous attendees who appear in full fancy dress for the Sunday evening Acid House Tea Party. A Guy Called Gerald and Billy Nasty do a fine job of laying down the searing squiggles and warehouse booms, but Phuture 303’s jagged, apocalyptic live workout is on another level altogether, throwing down heavily distorted drums and end-of-days acid screams with furious abandon.

As the evening progresses, we stumble listlessly between the icy-cold smoking corridor, the endearingly ramshackle backstage area, and the decidedly odious Smashbloc bar (known variously as the ‘Sausagebloc’, the ‘Cockbloc’, or indeed ‘Bloke Weekend’, for obvious reasons), before lugging ourselves back on the floor to hear Ben Sims and Tyree Cooper’s rabble-rousing festival finale. Cutting immaculately between Adonis, K. Alexi, and other gone but not-forgotten late 80s/early 90s heroes, the duo put on a sterling performance, with Cooper’s hyped MCing proving on the whole a welcome addition to Sims’ considerable deck skills.

Photos: Day 3 Ceephax Acid Crew's Enormous Sunday Acid Bingo Session

Sunday afternoon’s acid sessions kicked off with a bingo session hosted by Ceephax Acid Crew. Lee Smith didn’t even win a sausage. Photo credit: Matt Cheetham

By Monday morning, it’s more like Bleak Weekend, as endless queues to reclaim chalet deposits and an unexpected invasion by the local police force dampen our already grouchy spirits. But during the mammoth drive home—Hemsby is at least four hours away from anywhere else in the UK, it seems—such minor quibbles rapidly fade away. At a time when the underground is so often stripped of its natural ugliness and re-modelled for the trendy techno generation, it’s a genuine pleasure to witness a British festival that’s devoid of corporate sponsorship, populated by a friendly crowd, and entirely focussed on such often-ignored things like, say, booking really good music, or making sure that everyone has a blast. Which without a doubt, we most certainly did.

Sure, the arenas stank to high heaven. Sure, a few of the biggest acts failed to deliver. And 100% for sure, you’ll be disappointed if you come to Bloc to hang out with lots of girls. However, within the crumbling brickwork of the holiday camp that time forgot, there lurks a spirit that makes Bloc a fundamental, arguably unmissable fixture on the UK techno calendar. Just make sure you’re ready for a week of terrifying Pontins-related nightmares afterwards.

Top photo credit: Matt Cheetham