Every year, this festival holds a special place in Brooklyn. Every year, the crowds come out to see progressive music and culture, dine on local eats, engage in political discussions with booth organisers, and catch their favourite band reuniting.

D’Angelo brought it back for the tenth anniversary of this festival. It’s been years since he graced the stage and finished his shows with topless renditions of his hits, but his headlining act was the perfect balance of R&B fresh breath while paying homage by covering Prince’s “She’s Always In My Hair.” D’Angelo set the tone. The night was going to be rocking and the crowd was given an excuse to sweat – aside from the cloistering heat. With the bandleader Questlove backing him on drums, D’Angelo was passionate and on point. The gospel and R&B combination filled Commodore Barry Park with fists pumping in the air, and heads nodding in agreement. D’Angelo reminded everyone that he has the voice to be our contemporary Marvin Gaye and the backing band to show us that the Jimi Hendrix style is still ever-present.

Last year a trio of teenage boys brought their death metal to the stage and then later turned that energy into a million dollar contract. This year it was more about the women who rocked the stage. Valerie June captured her southern sound in the park while her hands danced quickly across her acoustic guitar. TECLA rocked the keyboard guitar and took the time to take her shoes off. Her music relied heavily on electronic distortion and feedback to make a grooving electronic dance tune. One song, titled “Tragic Mulatto,” lends a tone to the music, a sense of a dreadful ending.

The two-day festival had a little bit of everything and buried underneath the focus on music is a distinct look at culture and race. The music acts engage in the fun discussion while the booths and fashion inform the rest of the experience. Here’s to 10 years of Afropunk.

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The Culture

A big draw for Afropunk is the intersection of culture and fashion. Just head over to any coverage of Afropunk and you’ll see more pictures of audience members than bands. Afropunk is a celebration of self-expression, what else do you have when you combine an iconic, in-your-face, and sometimes blocking-your-view hairstyle with a musical movement that is as much about the scene as the music itself.

This year you could have spirited conversations with Black Studies professors about international aid and its intersection with post-colonial theory (and walk away feeling validated on both sides of the argument), hear about green energy and the misguided One project, while taking in local vendors, food trucks, and fashion from all the cool cats.

The Music

Once again the festival continued its tradition of having an absolutely useless performance schedule. Bands didn’t show up, or showed up at different times, but despite an occasional scheduling surprise the performances were stellar.

The festival opened for the second year in a row with The Skins, an overall-clad, big-haired lead singer who belted through a commanding showcase. She implored the early crowd to clap, to dance, and to get the day started right. Their set included an arena-rock/White Stripes-sounding cover of “Black Skinhead.”

Day one was the punk showcase. The day started off loud and kept getting louder and noisier with every band. A couple of 13-year-old metal heads set the stage for Jada Pinkett Smith, who reunited her band for the festival and followed through with an angry, noisy set.

Theophilus London stole the stage with his antics. His performance seemed to be geared towards established fans, people familiar with his work and wondering about what’s next. The crowd got a little preview of new material with a lot more ’80s hints mixed in with some disco elements and a dash of  new wave.

Afropunk kept going hard, bringing artists with a lot of bravado to stages that couldn’t contain their energy. Day two started off early with crowds immediately  ready to dance. Big Freedia was a force, his stage performance demanded booty popping of at least ten different kinds.

Le1f garnered just as much attention the next day for his tweet decrying Macklemore (go look it up, form an opinion, engage the issues, and watch his video for “Wut.” Crawl down the YouTube hole and discover this artist) as he did the day of Afropunk. His performance was all kinds of unique. His rapping is like syrup drizzled on top of delicious beats, each song is an entire body dance, but nothing compares to what Le1f is capable of, putting any and all efforts to dance – this guy is goood.

While the VMAs stole the attention in Brooklyn for one night, the audience was better at Afropunk and the stage performers were devoted to those in attendance rather than celebrating themselves or appropriating another culture’s style. The festival highlighted both the next wave of hip hop, a conscientious and inclusive genre, and forays into guitar-heavy rock. Put it on your calendar, be there next year.

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