"Good luck!" someone shouted, as I attempted to weave through what felt like London's morning commute at Waterworks' Pressure stage. The quality of the sound below didn't feel up to scratch, so I was up on the platform, attempting to find somewhere with enough space to move my arms—or move at all. I nestled in by the back wall, unable to see the raucous back-to-back going on but feeling quite content, everything bathed in a hot, siren red. A wave of gun fingers broke out before me, signalling that either Ben UFO or Call Super had just dropped a tune. Beyond the platform's decor of metal bars, my view was one of smoky trees. Washes of skittering white strobes fragmented any sense of clarity that I had. "This is it," I thought. "I could stay here for the whole night."

After its debut edition in 2021, Waterworks was the talk of the city, immediately earning a reputation as the go-to festival for dance music in London. It was a well-timed first outing. By then, lockdowns were a thing of the (recent) past in the UK, but due to various factors–such as lack of government support–many festivals were forced to pull the plug. Some continued on, but festival season felt stilted, not quite restored or back in full fettle. Cue Waterworks, which quenched our appetite for moments of elation in a park, surrounded by sound systems and people we were finally permitted to see.

This year, the context around Waterworks somewhat mirrored its first chapter. News of the Queen's death meant the country was suddenly thrown into an official period of mourning, with companies pressured to cancel events. To honour the moment of silence, shops shuttered their doors for the monarch's funeral. Once again, the events industry teetered on the edge of uncertainties. Hackney Carnival was cancelled and PXSSY PALACE's brand new festival, Overflo, announced its postponement. Would Waterworks, scheduled for two days prior to the funeral, go ahead? Hounslow Council criticised the Waterworks team, stating that the festival didn't align "with the mood of the nation." In response, Waterworks decided to continue, explaining in an online statement that postponement would have resulted in the "immediate placement of the company into administration."

During the pandemic, many felt a sense of global grief. This time, in the face of national grief, Waterworks went on, creating a space for communities to come together. When we're faced with life's ills, what do we do? In the Waterworks way, we dance for release.

And so Waterworks—the brainchild of the teams behind Percolate and Love International—marched on, staging its mammoth lineup across seven stages at Gunnersbury Park in West London. Though the sprawling programme skewed more towards heavyweight in-demand artists, there was room for discovery too. One tip: arrive early. Waterworks hit the ground running from noon, with billings such as Big Dyke Energy, Shy One, Sayang and Club Fitness. The curation also leaned into collaboration, with the festival hosting plenty of back-to-backs. Think Bambounou paired with the emerging French-Italian selector GiGi FM, and Angel D'lite with Tan. This plethora of organised back-to-backs suggested an emphasis on creating unique moments, each set carrying the potential to spark unpredictable thrills. It's a curatorial approach that worked, with several of the festival's back-to-backs resulting in some of its best moments.

In the weeks leading up to the event, Waterworks popped up frequently in conversations about weekend plans. On the day, the buzz of the festival swept through nearby pubs and over Gunnersbury Park. And once on site, it carried the feeling that London had turned out. At one point, I asked someone how this compared to the first edition. Similar, they answered, but busier. As I drifted with the tide of revellers exiting the festival, it felt like this was a key event of the social calendar, bookmarking the end of the summer. Did it live up to last year's hype? There were some comments on the sound being insufficient in areas, but chatter mainly focused on the fun that was had. Some couldn't quite cast their memory back to what had happened earlier that day, still reeling from the party. So, it's safe to say that Waterworks pulled it off again.

Here are our five key performances.

Dr Banana back-to-back Evan Baggs

Over the course of the day, the Water Tower became the stage worth returning to. Dave Harvey and Ellie Stokes opened, followed by Shy One and then another figure of the Bristol scene: namely, Dr Banana, who went back-to-back with Evan Baggs. The two began at 2:30 PM and kept the energy up, in full-swing. The sun beat down as the pair freewheeled across a vibrant set of house bangers with cosmic flourishes. I passed a large blue and green bear perched on someone's shoulders and shades of oranges and browns speckled the crowd. It was a technicolour moment and we luxuriated in it.

Manami

Manami is one of Bristol's ascending stars and a key fixture within the city's thriving bass scene. She wasn't one to miss. When I arrived at the Commune tent, the party was popping off, leaping to an edit of Madonna's "Hung Up." From my place on the dance floor to the right of the booth, Manami was barely visible over a display of verdant greenery. And then, the distorted sound of a particular track snuck into the set. Was it…? Yes, it was. As the recognisable guitar riff grew louder, it became clear that Manami really was playing the Bodyrockers' noughties hit "I Like the Way You Move." An "oi, oi" erupted from the crowd, followed by a ripple of cheers. When the chorus kicked in, the crowd threw themselves into wild abandon, shrieking the lyrics. One woman, while waving her arms in the air, shouted: "This is epic!"

Or:la back-to-back Amaliah

Flitting from Adam Pits and LUXE, then over to Yazzus and LCY—where ravers were locked into a full-throttled set of gabber and techno—I settled in at the Orbit stage where Céad label boss Or:la went head-to-head with rising London selector Amaliah. Here, I experienced bassier rhythms as the pair traded spliced up, broken beats. The crowd whistling in approval, the dancing became more frenzied as Britney's "Piece of Me" played. The pair then zoomed through more muscular techno before diving into galloping rhythms and gleaming textures.

Bradley Zero back-to-back Moxie

Back at the Water Tower, a large crowd had gathered for two local legends, Bradley Zero and Moxie, who treated us to a selection of classic vocal house cuts perfect for the late afternoon sunshine. There was a touch of voguing in the crowd and behind me, a festival-goer in a blue patterned shirt and baseball cap raised his head and hands to the sky in exaltation; eyes closed, stood still, soaking up the light as the sun's rays splintered through the Water Tower structure. He was glowing. I ran back for more when Janet Jackson rang out across the park.

Midland back-to-back Saoirse

At this point in the festival, the sun had fallen and the temperature dropped dramatically. So we ventured to Hi-Hat, a tent lit only by eerie green light, to get stuck in to Batu and Skee Mask's back-to-back. I expected spine-rattling bass to reverberate through me, but grew disappointed when I couldn't hear the music. Not enough speakers were installed in the packed tent. Out I went, back into the cold, to find a speaker stack I could dance near. And so I found myself back at Orbit for Midland and Saoirse's first-ever back-to-back; the drop in temperature created an urgency to keep moving and stay warm.

This was an easy feat though. The two displayed a dexterity and synergy that makes for the best kind of collaboration behind the decks, both sparring with a playfulness that permeated the crowd with a sense of joy. I stomped my way into the night, singing along to a rowdy edit of Deborah Cox's "Just Be Good to Me."

We've compiled a YouTube playlist with some of our favourite tracks from Waterworks 2022. Listen here.

Dr Banana back-to-back Evan Baggs

Manami

Or:la back-to-back Amaliah

Bradley Zero back-to-back Moxie

Midland back-to-back Saoirse﻿

Midland back-to-back Saoirse