When a clubbing institution like Clockwork Orange celebrates a quarter of a century in the business, they don't do things by halves...

It's ironic really. When the rave phenomenon first sprung into life at the tail end of the 1980s, Britain's tabloid newspapers declared war on it in a fit of moral hysteria not seen since the days of mods and rockers.

Fast forward three decades and 5,000 ravers are descending on what used to be Europe's biggest newspaper printing plant. Newspaper circulations may be in decline, but there's no doubt on tonight's evidence that raving, dismissed back then as a flash in the pan fad, continues to go from strength to strength.

So the printworks becomes Printworks the venue. What a venue it is too. The place has the feel and flavour of a warehouse rave, from the concrete loading bay where we queue to get in, to the main dancing spaces upstairs. The metallic machinery once used to whizz newpapers about at high speed still hangs only a matter of feet above our heads. The main room, aptly named the Warehouse, is extremely long and thin, meaning wherever you are in it the atmosphere feels fuelled an intense. About 20 feet above us, a see through metal gantry runs the length of the both sides of the room, forming a grimly industrial balcony where wearier members of the congregation can observe the boiling couldron of dancers beneath.

While this event to mark Clockwork Orange's 25th anniversary, not to mention their evolution from a fledgling club night in High Holborn to the arena-packing proposition they are today, may have the appearance of a proper squatted warehouse party, there are a number of crucial differences. Whereas you might have been lucky to purchase a can of warm Red Stripe from a dodgy looking geezer back then, tonight's ample bars are stocked with craft ales, wines and of course gallons of ubiquitous vodka and Red Bull. Outside in the courtyard there's all manner of posh nosh to chow down on.

Then there are the production values, which tonight are pretty outrageously good. The main room has sizeable speaker stacks parked at regular intervals throughout the length of the main room. Likewise, the retina scorching light show fills the entire room, so that everyone feels like they're right in the centre of the action rather than lurking on the periphery.

Then there's the line up. It reads like who's who of the originators of the UK's rave culture, a spread of artists who have moved off into a myriad of different styles and sub-genres since, but who are re-united tonight to raise a glass to this raving institution's success. There's jungle and drum and bass giants like Grooverider and Jumping Jack Frost revisit the contents of their old skool record boxes. There are household house names like Norman Jay and Seb Fontaine, Jeremy Healy, Brandon Block and, well, we could go on ...

In keeping with the 'back in the day' flavour, too, there are PAs – the rave equivalent of a live appearance – from top of the range vocal talents like Alison Limerick and Angie Brown. Brown comes on stage and instantly gets the entire throng singing along with here without even dropping a beat, When the throbbing sequencers of her early 90s hit 'I'm Gonna Get You' does kick in, her voice soaring with majestic grace and gutsy soulfuness all at the same time, there's not an arm in the room that isn't raised in the sky in salute.

These moments are the perfect antidote to so called faceless DJ culture, but the best of the talent on the bill tonight certainly knows about filling their tunes with personality. Case in point: Tall Paul's set. It is a veritable history lesson, but one that is coated in the thumping tribal beats of today. He weaves the dramatic “are you ready to testify?” intro from Detroit garage rockers MC5's 'Kick Out The Jams' into an array of kick drums and bullying bass prodding at one moment, then does the same with A Guy Called Gerald's acid house Hacienda anthem 'Voodoo Ray' the next. It's his equally pummeling remix of Adamski and Seal's 'Killer' that arguably ends up as the anthem of the night.

For a quick change of scene we dip into the second and equally aptly named Darkroom. It proves to be not only dark but also every bit as low ceilinged as the main room is cathedral-like in height. It's the perfect environment for a few glimpses of the darker and more twisted side of house music, less vocal-centric and more dubbed out. The decks are being ably manned by Mark Medley and Joe Bonner, with Tristan Ingram and Owen Clarke bringing things to a climax.

But we don't want to miss the evening's main attraction and among the throng of clubbers, some in their finest gladrags, others sporting illuminated headgear or wonderfully daft Native American fancy dress, there's a palpable sense of excitement at the imminent arrival of the S Man, Roger Sanchez. He doesn't disappoint either, taking the iconic opening from Mr Fingers' ancient Chicago classic 'The House That Jack Built' and using its proto-Biblical declaration that “in the beginning there was jack” and its multicultural clarion call that “you may be black, you may be jew, you may be gentile, it doesn't matter” to drive his opening salvo of percussive firepower into overdrive.

There's something utterly compulsive about his style, a hypnotism that takes hold of your limbs and refuses to let go. It's a sensibility that has one foot in the kind of kick drum brutalism required to carry a peak time audience, but with its other planted firmly in the same funkiness and syncopation that powered those first clutch of records from Chicago and Detroit that got the whole movement moving, both literally and metaphorically.

It's a bit of masterclass for those who think Djing is a matter of sticking a few tunes on and hoping for the best. With incredible finesse and sensitivity to the music, he's toying with the arena's energy and mood for every minute of his triumphant two hour session. He appears to be loving every minute of it – and indeed we are too.

So much so, that when we're eventually sent out into the dark of South East London at the end of the night, we feel like we could start all over again. Ah well, only another 25 year to wait.