- As the clouds parted and the sun hit, Roy Ayers strolled out onto the Main Stage at Sunfall Festival without a care in the world. Fittingly, for an afternoon like this, his backing band was already breezing through the summer anthem "Everybody Loves The Sunshine." The veteran musician stepped up to the vibraphone and got to work.
The next few tracks flew by. "Running Away" was a noticeable shift in gear, while "Searching" was extended well beyond its usual four minutes. This was a masterclass in making a jam session work on the big stage, reinforcing what Ayers had previously pointed out about his band. "They're real sharp," he said with some modesty. "Even sharper than me."
For the first time, Sunfall was beginning to resemble a proper festival. Overcrowding had plagued the event from the start, with chaotic queues that stretched for up to several hours. (Apparently, at 2 PM on the day, local police had demanded the festival ramp up the intensity of the security checks.) Meanwhile, the organisers attempted to weather a category five social media storm as angry festivalgoers took to Twitter to demand refunds.
And yet, despite a turbulent start, things had settled down by late afternoon. On the West Stage, Theo Parrish, wearing a bucket hat and thick-rimmed glasses, bounced tirelessly at the controls. He'd been given license to roam with a four-hour set, laying down his own brand of long, wacky disco edits to the dazed hordes. In typical fashion, he worked the EQs like a flair bartender, twisting and turning the knobs until they nearly snapped clean off.
In the middle of Brixton's Brockwell Park, burned-out revellers recharged their batteries in the soothing shade of the trees. Surrounding them were benches littered with half-empty beer bottles. A slate-grey concrete tower block loomed over the North Stage, while in the Knowledge Arena, groups of would-be producers nodded their heads and fumbled their way around the latest sound equipment.
In the distance, Motor City Drum Ensemble was quickly getting to the point. His Main Stage set worked its way from classic disco to acid house and back again, cranking up the heat with cuts like Moodymann's "Don't You Want My Love." As punters stumbled from stage to stage, sporting record label T-shirts and wide grins, memories of the crowd crush on arrival were slowly fading.
Any hip-hop fans onsite likely ended up at Madlib, who turned heads with his sample-heavy arsenal of tracks. A Slum Village cut shook the floor as he approached the decks, setting the tone in style. J Dilla's trademark minimalism made way for a slew of fast-paced mixes, with Q-Tip's familiar vocals peeking through. It was all seamlessly put together. "I was just freestylin'," he later confessed.
Sometimes you need someone to slap you round the face with a beat. Princess Nokia, who followed Madlib, brought zeal in abundance. "Don't you fuck with my energy!" She repeatedly told the swaying mob below, while the tough, trap-style snares of her own "Brujas" snapped with crushing force.
As the last clouds in the sky disappeared, bodies began flooding back out towards the Main Stage for Larry Heard's much-anticipated live set. Appearing to a roaring crowd, this was the house star's first performance in the capital for around 20 years. Accompanied by Mr. White on vocal duties, the two whizzed through countless classics, including Robert Owens' "I'm Strong" and Heard's 1999 track "Missing You." A tidal wave of emotion washed over the site.
Heard showed that he's always had the lightest touch in house music. His productions work no matter the situation, as easily enjoyed on a knackered phone speaker as on a mammoth soundsystem. Theo Parrish, who was seen some distance from the stage, had his head in his hands, in total disbelief at the sheer quality of the tunes. (The one that really got him was Mr Fingers' "Amnesia," a total bomb.) The human element in dance music can sometimes get lost in among the machines, but Heard has a unique knack for bringing the two together. "Thank you to the beautiful people of Sunfall," he shouted at the end. His words sounded as sincere as his music.
Photo credit /
Dan Medhurst
In the middle of Brixton's Brockwell Park, burned-out revellers recharged their batteries in the soothing shade of the trees. Surrounding them were benches littered with half-empty beer bottles. A slate-grey concrete tower block loomed over the North Stage, while in the Knowledge Arena, groups of would-be producers nodded their heads and fumbled their way around the latest sound equipment. In the distance, Motor City Drum Ensemble was quickly getting to the point. His Main Stage set worked its way from classic disco to acid house and back again, cranking up the heat with cuts like Moodymann's "Don't You Want My Love." As punters stumbled from stage to stage, sporting record label T-shirts and wide grins, memories of the crowd crush on arrival were slowly fading.
Any hip-hop fans onsite likely ended up at Madlib, who turned heads with his sample-heavy arsenal of tracks. A Slum Village cut shook the floor as he approached the decks, setting the tone in style. J Dilla's trademark minimalism made way for a slew of fast-paced mixes, with Q-Tip's familiar vocals peeking through. It was all seamlessly put together. "I was just freestylin'," he later confessed. Sometimes you need someone to slap you round the face with a beat. Princess Nokia, who followed Madlib, brought zeal in abundance. "Don't you fuck with my energy!" She repeatedly told the swaying mob below, while the tough, trap-style snares of her own "Brujas" snapped with crushing force.
As the last clouds in the sky disappeared, bodies began flooding back out towards the Main Stage for Larry Heard's much-anticipated live set. Appearing to a roaring crowd, this was the house star's first performance in the capital for around 20 years. Accompanied by Mr. White on vocal duties, the two whizzed through countless classics, including Robert Owens' "I'm Strong" and Heard's 1999 track "Missing You." A tidal wave of emotion washed over the site. Heard showed that he's always had the lightest touch in house music. His productions work no matter the situation, as easily enjoyed on a knackered phone speaker as on a mammoth soundsystem. Theo Parrish, who was seen some distance from the stage, had his head in his hands, in total disbelief at the sheer quality of the tunes. (The one that really got him was Mr Fingers' "Amnesia," a total bomb.) The human element in dance music can sometimes get lost in among the machines, but Heard has a unique knack for bringing the two together. "Thank you to the beautiful people of Sunfall," he shouted at the end. His words sounded as sincere as his music. Photo credit / Dan Medhurst