The sixth iteration of Cross The Tracks was a soaring spectacle that united genre-blending stalwarts with rising stars of soul, funk, and jazz. A jam-packed Brockwell Park played host to shimmying bodies, brilliant basslines, and ever-intriguing grooves. Though rich in tempo shifts, the event barely missed a beat.

And as with all great day fests, momentum built as we went. California outfit The Sinseers treated a jovial pocket of early arrivers to soul-tinged reggae, combining falsetto, whistles, and brooding baritone to good effect. A (very) short stroll away, JGrrey’s set ran the thematic gamut from political corruption to toxic exes. Over at The Caboose (a tent sponsored by Morley’s, no less), Mychelle delivered touching, husky vocals. 

With seven principal stages dotted strategically about a pretty compact space, there was no shortage of sounds to absorb or new artists to discover. Bar the first hour, mind, when we caught only the tail end of several sets. Scheduling faux pas, shoddy luck, or a bemusing combo of both?

Bucking the trend was Nia Smith, whose songs soothe and inspire, slope and ascend with wonderful vocal control. It was, however, a struggle to get on board with a backing track. For emerging artists, the cost of assembling a full live band can be prohibitive — a frustrating reflection of the industry’s skewed economics laid bare in the lack of live drums.

As other spots seemed to favour vocalists, Glade Marie was spinning upbeat R&B breaks in the cosy tent of Heritage Stage, with hints of Amapiano for good measure. This lively set sported delectable jazzy piano, vocal chops, and intermittent MC’ing.

Keeping with the danceable energy, Aba Shanti-I kicked things off at Funk Junction with a rippling sample of dub classic “Chase The Devil” by Max Romeo and The Upsetters. We wiggled on with various shades of deep bass and roots reggae textures as the veteran DJ made lithe moves behind the decks and continually came back to ‘the message’. Afterwards, Last Nubian (with Achanté) raised the BPMs via broken beat and funk-laden hip-hop, calling on the lasting legacies of underground Black British dance music and Jamaican sound system culture.

So as the afternoon heat took hold, so too did the festival’s rhythm — a welcome reward, given that being here wasn’t always guaranteed…

The Brockwell Live Bank Holiday Weekender (spanning two weekends, with Wide Awake, Field Day, Cross The Tracks, and City Splash on the first, followed by Mighty Hoopla the next) faced months of contention, with local opposition and legal bids aiming to stop the events outright. Yet inside the gates, there was that unmistakable festival buzz — high-top tents, open spaces to chill, fits of laughter and strange snippets of overheard conversation. A plethora of food trucks dished out rich scents and dished up tasty, carby eats.

Not everything was perfectly seasoned, though. The sound setups were a tad inconsistent, with the Moses Yoofee Trio on a stage too small for their growing appeal, and the sub-optimal volume meant the snappy, dynamic drums and funky key solos barely reached those further back. Start times, too — groan — were pretty loose across the day. I guess there’s a fine line to tread between those two issues. Cymande’s drawn-out soundcheck was a thumb twiddler, for example, but everything was crisp and cool once the Brixton-based collective got going.

As bastions of funk and self-taught musicians turned veritable aficionados, Cymande delivered firm favourites like Getting It Back and Brothers on the Slide (both tracks are over 50 years old), plus fresh tunes from the recent Renascence. Throbbing bass and sensational sax breaks ensued. Keyboardist Adrian Reid bit his lip and swayed his head — sure signs he’s loving their return to the circuit. As far as homecomings go, this was a wicked one.

Seun Kuti packed out the Locomotion tent and then some. On stage, he spun and jumped with infectious energy as the notorious horn section of Egypt 80 worked uptempo wonders. Time and again across extended jams, the trombones and trumpets punctuated vocal phrasing and politically charged lyrics. “IMF” is about as clear-cut as it gets on that front. It was one of the day’s most electric sets from true torchbearers for Afrobeat. 

Jordan Rakei’s voice and overall sunny disposition were a welcome slot in the balmy afternoon. Born in New Zealand and now London-based, the multi-instrumentalist was something of a microcosm for the festival’s global scope, and his band produced some outstanding ambient interludes among the soulful R&B. Perfect for taking a perch and chowing down on some food. A wicked segue into the evening’s big hitters.

Ezra Collective barely need covering, do they? London’s Mercury Prize-winning five-piece have earned their place as leaders of the UK’s jazz renaissance — and everywhere they go they have their merry way with the thankful masses. Laced with afrobeat, calypso, Latin American salsa, kooky instrumental covers, and all sorts else besides — theirs is rhythm ripe with influence, and a horn-fuelled dose of optimism in a politically fraught time. Drummer and bandleader Femi Koleoso cajoled us into “Herald” as the early evening sun broke through. Joe Armon-Jones on keys was a marvel, a virtuoso. 

Meanwhile, Baby Rose’s pared-back set brought her enchanting alto voice and reflective lyrics to the fore, but the crowd was thin on the ground given Ezra Collective’s star appeal just across the way. Besides, proximity (and the blustery wind) meant that sound bled and muddied some of her ballads.

Free Nationals served up slick, noodling funk compositions. There were whispers of mild expectation in the crowd that their friend and frequent collaborator — the inimitable Anderson .Paak — might make a guest appearance, especially given their collective spot at Ronnie Scott’s the following night. Alas, there was no such superstar surprise. Over on Mainline, Michael Kiwanuka saw things out with characteristic aplomb, carving a calming little path through that entirely delectable back catalogue. Shout out to his flautist for the turn on “Tell Me a Tale”.

The final chords and chants faded after the light had done the same, closing out a day brimming with global grooves, political edge, and just the right amount of chaos. Cross The Tracks didn’t just serve as a cracking catalyst for the start of summer — it amplified diasporic voices, celebrated genre-bending joy, and reminded us how live music can pulse with intention as well as pleasure. This was a scintillating fest and a statement. Some blueprint, that.

Photos ©: Garry Jones, Khali Ackford & Samuel Fletcher