‘Switching things up proves to surprise’
I have been a Breakin’ Convention (BC) stan for over five years now. A fraction, considering that London’s premiere hip-hop festival in London’s premier dance venue is celebrating its 22nd year. Never have I been on the Friday; however, switching things up proves to surprise, and not completely in the best way.
Over Saturday and Sunday, the space is BOOMING: spray-painting workshops around the corner, sizzling Jamaican delicacies being sold, and hordes of passionate little hip-hoppers vibrating around the space on a diet of adulation and fizzy drinks. It’s a lot, gloriously so, yet I was always under the impression that Friday was a lighter affair.
I was correct, good for those wanting to dip their toes in but not devote seven-something hours to the genre. The cumin-hued patties are there, and an exhibition battle by Kingdoms League and X Breakin’ Convention (one of many offshoots) takes over where the snooty members’ drinks are normally held. Watching one dancer pivot on a trainered toe, his dreadlocks spinning out like a firework, reminds us of the focus of BC: those darn pesky, talented, beautiful kids.
Kaner Flex are another: a zippy duet where precise arms conjure shapes from human pyramids to peeling Egyptian frescos. Bending the old with the snappingly fresh effortlessly, focusing on the power of the internet and the smartphone.
More established talent comes in the form of Compagnia Bellanda from Italy. Taking contact improv and rolling it up to another spidery level, Giovanni Gava Leonarduzzi and Lia Claudia Latini roll around like two land-stranded octopi while speaking Italian platitudes about relationship issues. The black-clad tussle of sex and frustration takes on shades of abuse and violence, sailing close to the wind for the younger audience members, and like many acts throughout the night, could do with some serious editing to tighten it up.
Rock Force Crew finish the night as experts in the field. Breaking off into autobiographical solos under sharp spots (thanks throughout to Imogen Clarke’s lights), they show why the company has been a leader in mentorship and international championships since 1983. The swagger, bounce and rhythm of the Californians is undeniable, always giving the vibe of a back-alley breakdance battle; they school us on their 43-year history, propelling us out into the night air abuzz and informed.
Elsewhere, however, the evening feels like a warm-up for the main event, not the opening night. Maybe that’s what it is? But people (fewer than at the weekend, but still) have paid money for their tickets and should be treated as such. Jonzi D, fanny pack swinging, reads his intro rap off his phone and takes three goes to get through it. “By Sunday it will be great,” he jokes. The selection is a little all over the place, and despite highlighting early-career artists, the vague theme of friction seems to be an afterthought.
Emma Houston kicks the weekend off: a spurt of stand-up, some flopping chair movement and beatboxing. Ambitious, but not quite polished or large enough for the Sadler’s Wells stage, which swallows it whole. Joseph Toonga Company has four female dancers, again with lofty aims, from ferocious group movement working in elements from his native Cameroon to screaming acting, beating themselves into a frenzied krumping. This inward-looking work exploring protest, the global majority and the plight of women has flashes of connection but again seems to loop back on itself.
Everything feels a little thrown together, which I have never experienced with the festival. To highlight young artists effectively you must edit, morph and curate, not just like their vibe and throw them onstage. With purses the way they are, every penny should be accounted for and every ticket golden, as I certainly want to be hunched over my laptop in 45 years still beaming about this festival and its wide-reaching ripples.
Check out all the acts here, and plan your tickets for NEXT year!