Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” was already thundering through the Royal Festival Hall when BADBADNOTGOOD began walking onstage. No lights-up moment, no announcement, just that snarling antiwar riff bouncing off the walls. Three days earlier, Israel had launched strikes on Iranian nuclear sites. In response, the following morning, Iran and the Houthis fired missiles at Israeli targets. By the 16th, that intro felt weighty. Charged. The band didn’t say a word. They let it hang, then sliced straight into “Eyes On Me”: swung rhythm, brooding Rhodes, a pulse that pulled the air tight.

The mood had already been set by Haseeb Iqbal, whose opening DJ-set moved with quiet intention. A broadcaster, scholar and writer known for tracing political and diasporic threads through sound, he laid down a path that felt thoughtful, grounded, and sharply attuned to the moment. Fully in step with the tone Little Simz set across her Meltdown curation.

What followed wasn’t the BBNG that once spun Dilla into post-bop. On stage now, a sextet with range and chemistry. Alexander Sowinski, still at the centre, drummed with theatrical precision: playful, gestural, always dialled in. Chester Hansen’s basslines moved with elastic clarity, anchoring the set without pinning it down. Leland Whitty shifted between saxophone, flute and guitar with ease, shaping the band’s harmonic centre.

Felix Fox‑Pappas gave the Rhodes weight and atmosphere, lush, swelling chords offset by clipped, rhythmic jabs. Kaelin Murphy’s trumpet was bright and responsive, cutting through or dissolving into the mix as needed. Juan Carlos Medrano Magallanes added hand percussion – shakers, bells, congas – that traced the margins, subtle but essential. Each player carried distinct roles, but the sound was collective: textured, fluid, intentional.

The set moved like one long piece, each track folding into the next with clear intent. “The Chocolate Conquistadors” locked into thick, fuzzed-out funk. “Speaking Gently” started sparse, holding back before opening up. Whitty’s solos stretched then frayed. Murphy’s trumpet rose and fell, sharp then fading. Medrano’s percussion stayed at the edges, guiding shifts without stepping forward.

“Confessions” followed, looser in form. Percussion and harmony pushed outward, the set opening up in tone. Medrano’s playing took on more presence, backed by Sowinski’s relaxed grip and Fox-Pappas’s flexible Rhodes lines. The energy shifted, but the focus held.

Then came “Family Affair”, a stripped-back, reverent tribute to Sly Stone, who had died just days earlier. Sowinski paused to acknowledge the moment, brief and direct. Just a short word, then the tune, stripped back and steady.

“Unfolding (Momentum 73)” opened out into modal space, Brazilian in tone: circling motion, without waste. The lights cooled into blue and violet as abstract visuals bloomed behind the band: grainy film textures, rippling natural forms. The visual design matched the music’s pacing: unforced, rooted, quietly expansive, gently psychedelic.

They returned for a two-track encore: a slow, luminous take on Roy Ayers’ “Everybody Loves the Sunshine”, melting into “Last Laugh”, a new piece built on open harmony and suspended rhythm, unresolved, almost weightless. No applause at first. Just a pause, not confusion, but suspension. The crowd sat with it, letting the weight of the ending hold.