Kate Lloyd 

‘Our community deserves a global stage’: how LGBTQ+ events like Homobloc are going large

The rise of queer music festivals and big outdoor raves has brought visibility and empowerment to a culture once confined to underground clubs. But expansion has led to accusations of selling out
  
  

Joy formidable … Homobloc.
Joy formidable … Homobloc. Photograph: Jody Hartley

“Queer Christmas” – that’s how promoter Rod Connolly describes Homobloc, the 13-hour LGBTQ+ festival returning to Manchester for its fifth year this month. Held at Depot Mayfield, the vast, disused railway station next to Manchester Piccadilly, the annual rave is a chaotic celebration of every facet of queer culture.

From 3pm on 9 November until 4am the morning after, the dance tunnels, rowdy loft spaces and cavernous warehouse arenas of the labyrinthine venue will fill with go-go dancers, drag stars and performance artists of every body type, sexuality and gender. Rahim Redcar (FKA Christine and the Queens) and Shygirl are headlining, alongside a DJ lineup that includes Haai, Horse Meat Disco and Hannah Holland. It’s part of a wave of large-scale, inclusive queer events that have launched in recent years.

There’s False Idols, founded by the team behind cult LGBTQ+ night Little Gay Brother and house and techno night Percolate. That will bring 15,000 people to Drumsheds, a club housed in a disused Ikea in London, in November. There’s Mighty Hoopla, the nostalgic pop two-dayer in south London’s Brockwell Park, with 2025’s headliners including Ciara, Kesha and Loreen. And then there’s Body Movements in London’s Southwark Park – a hip, hedonistic day rave uniting some of the capital’s best queer club nights, from Big Dyke Energy to Queer House Party, as well as Glastonbury’s notorious on-site gay club NYC Downlow.

“These kinds of events change you,” says Connolly. “There’s a real shift when you leave – how empowered you feel, how good you feel. There’s this common thread between us, but we all look and sound very different. It’s a difficult world for queer people, but when we have these big spaces, we leave glowing, like we’ve almost got a radiation shield.”

A DJ and artist who has run events on Manchester’s queer scene for 20 years, Connolly was involved with Homobloc as a performer before joining its production team in 2023. What makes the night unique, he says, is the diversity on show: “We’ve got punk rock in there, we’ve got techno, drum’n’bass, hip-hop, house music.” The setting is crucial, too. “The northernness of it means our arms are wider to bring people in than perhaps other cities,” he says.

Homobloc launched in 2019, the brainchild of Luke Unabomber, founder of Homoelectric – the beloved, acid house-infused Manchester queer party that started in 1997 as a raucous alternative to the cheesy pop of the city’s Gay Village. The idea behind Homobloc, Connolly explains, was to take that underground, anti-mainstream ethos and scale it up.

While acts such as Honey Dijon, Jessie Ware and Confidence Man have brought big crowds, it’s the non-musical performers involved who shape the event. During Homobloc’s first year, a parade of dancers and drag queens marched through the venue holding protest signs parodying the hateful messages of the Westboro Baptist Church. Sophie Bee, Homobloc’s creative director, recalls standing front of house with the mayor of Greater Manchester, Andy Burnham, that first afternoon. “There was a part where two of the performance artists on stage bent over naked and thrust. I thought to myself: ‘Ooh!’ We can be a bit naughty.”

Since then, the party has only grown bigger. Both Bee and Connolly say watching Peaches tear up the stage with punk go-go collective Fvck Pigs was a highlight. So was the “unrivalled queer joy coming from the stage” when Self Esteem had the crowd roaring in 2022, and last year, when US house DJ the Blessed Madonna went back-to-back with DJ Paulette. “It was such a moment,” Bee recalls. “The two women of dance culture – one from Chicago and one Manchester – so intertwined with queer culture: just proper kick-ass.”

For Bee, it’s the smaller moments that matter most: “A few years ago, one of our trans performers took to the catwalk and, without warning, started taking her clothes off for that feeling to stand in front of 10,000 people and be like: ‘I’m fucking here.’ I saw her and I just started sobbing.”

To Connolly, the joy of these festivals is that “you’re not just in a room with a speaker. There’s lots of breakout areas, and there’s just a lot more human interaction than you would get in a square box.” He says that they’re also growing in importance as nightlife venues shutter across the country. In 2023, 125 small music venues closed or stopped putting on music across the UK. In London alone, six in 10 queer nightlife venues have shut since 2006, with high running costs and increasing noise regulations to blame.

“There’s not that much in Manchester,” Connolly says. “A lot of our popular queer spaces [such as] The White Hotel and Mill Parties are pretty niche – 300 capacity – and heavily booked.” He thinks Homobloc – and the other big events – provide space for promoters and performers to grow audiences and for clubbers to find their community.

Of course, not everyone agrees. Homobloc has faced criticism from local promoters for partnering with the mega events company the Warehouse Project. Some have argued that corporate involvement exploits the queer community and that over its five-year run it has taken profits away from queer venues and into the hands of the Warehouse Project.Connolly and Bee say that much of the ticket revenue goes to paying performers fairly, and that the Warehouse Project’s infrastructure is essential for logistics. “Without their support, we couldn’t create something this big,” says Connolly.

Bee adds: “I’ve got a personal statement – and this isn’t the official Homobloc statement: doesn’t our community deserve a global stage? We’ve fought so hard to be seen, and I’m passionate about that.”

The Warehouse Project is also, like many formerly independent promoters and more than 35 venues in the UK, majority-owned by Live Nation-Gaiety Holdings. Saudi Arabia’s Public Investment Fund is reported to be a 5.7% passive shareholder in Live Nation. Local promoters, such as High Hoops – who pulled out of working on Homobloc in 2021 – have raised concerns about this link to a country where same-sex relationships are punishable by death.

“My DIY and activist background and nature is that we can only change things from within,” says Bee. “We’ve had internal discussions, and have met as a community,” says Connolly. “We’re still talking about it and kind of figuring it out.”

They point out that this year Homobloc has introduced low-income tickets priced at £25, and the event continues to support LGBTQ+ charities, including the Proud Trust, LGBT Foundation and George House Trust. Over the years, Homobloc has donated more than £137,000 to these causes.

Looking ahead, Connolly hopes to create a Homobloc camping festival. “Because 13 hours isn’t enough. I want to wake up with you and continue that energy. I think 2026 is a year when the parameters of Homobloc can move.”

For now, he and Bee are eagerly awaiting this year’s festival. Bee grins: “I always love the last tune on the main stage – there’s loads of chaos, streamers, balloons, bits of broken tech I’m going to get in so much trouble for on Monday morning, but it’s worth it.”

Homobloc is at Depot Mayfield, Manchester, on 9 November.

 

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