REVIEW | ANCIENT SOUNDS X FUTURE FORCE: INSIDE SUPERORGANIC AT RICH MIX

By Rishma • On Reviews

Photo Cred­it: Poet Curious

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a room where music made me feel com­pletely inside it, rather than just watch­ing it from the out­side. Not ana­lys­ing it, not pick­ing it apart, just fully present in a space where everything felt con­nec­ted and alive in a way that’s become quite rare in live music.

SUPERORGANIC’s Ancient Sounds x Future Force at Rich Mix was one of those nights. Not because it was flaw­less or overly pol­ished, but because it felt like some­thing was genu­inely being cre­ated in real time. There was a sense that the room, the artists and the audi­ence were all part of the same exper­i­ence rather than sep­ar­ate from it.

There are some events you leave talk­ing about indi­vidu­al per­form­ances, and then there are events you leave talk­ing about how they made you feel. This was def­in­itely the latter.

Before I even get into the night itself, I need to talk about Fusion. Through run­ning I Am Hip-Hop, I’ve met a lot of people across music and cul­ture, but Fusion is someone I’ve always had huge respect for. Long before cul­ture became some­thing con­stantly doc­u­mented and dis­cussed online, he was already doing the work in real spaces, cham­pi­on­ing artists, build­ing con­nec­tions and cre­at­ing oppor­tun­it­ies for people to actu­ally exist with­in the industry. Not just report­ing on it, but act­ively shap­ing it. Pro­du­cer, presenter, con­nect­or, storyteller. Someone who has con­sist­ently used his plat­form to open doors for oth­er people rather than just step­ping through them him­self. If you’ve been around UK hip-hop cul­ture over the years, you’ll know his name. From pir­ate radio days through to MTV Base, from cham­pi­on­ing early UK hip-hop and grime to inter­view­ing and doc­u­ment­ing artists like Nas, Lauryn Hill and Dr Dre, he has always been someone who sits at the inter­sec­tion of cul­ture and community.

He’s also shown con­sist­ent love to I Am Hip-Hop over the years, and I don’t take that lightly. Inde­pend­ent plat­forms rely on people who under­stand why they exist in the first place, and he’s always been one of those people. So see­ing SUPER­OR­GAN­IC come to life didn’t feel like wit­ness­ing some­thing new being launched, it felt more like watch­ing some­thing that’s always been part of him finally take phys­ic­al shape on stage.

SUPER­OR­GAN­IC itself, cre­ated through the BMT Cul­ture Hub pro­gramme, brings togeth­er hip-hop, jazz, spoken word, live instru­ment­a­tion and exper­i­ment­a­tion in a way that doesn’t feel forced togeth­er for the sake of concept. It feels like these worlds nat­ur­ally belong in the same space. The brand has been bring­ing the storytelling ele­ment back into music for a few years now, through their live shows, their mix tape (yes an actu­al tape!) and short film.

From the moment I walked into Rich Mix, that energy was already present. DJ Doni Brasco wasn’t simply warm­ing the room up, he was cur­at­ing the atmo­sphere in a way that made the space feel like it was already in motion before any­thing offi­cially began. From blends, to cuts, the scratches — from hear­ing Dizzee Ras­cal being mixed with Masego, he brought to life a music­al land­scape mixed across dec­ades. The music moved across genres and moods in a way that made people settle into the space rather than just arrive in it, and you could feel the room slowly syncing togeth­er as more people came in.

Across the night, the energy was shaped by a really strong line-up of artists includ­ing AJ, AyHearts, Mizz B Ryan and Apex Zero, each bring­ing some­thing com­pletely dif­fer­ent to the space, from sharp lyr­i­cism and spoken word to raw, stripped-back vocal moments that all fed into the wider col­lect­ive energy of the show.

The show began with Fusion step­ping for­ward to wel­come every­one into the SUPER­OR­GAN­IC world and to frame what we were about to exper­i­ence, speak­ing about ancient sounds meet­ing future think­ing in a way that felt groun­ded rather than abstract. It wasn’t delivered like a concept being explained, it felt more like an invit­a­tion into the way he hears and under­stands music.

He then brought Mar­lon Hib­bert onto the stage along­side DJ Doni Brasco, and what fol­lowed com­pletely shif­ted the way famil­i­ar tracks were exper­i­enced. The steel pan wasn’t treated as an add-on or tex­ture in the back­ground of music, it became the focal point. Hear­ing tracks like 50 Cent’s P.I.M.P. and Soulja Boy’s Super­man broken down and rebuilt live revealed lay­ers that are usu­ally hid­den in plain sight. It reminded you how much detail exists in music you think you already know.

From there, Fusion intro­duced Faris Ishaq and the Ney onto the stage, and this was one of those moments that didn’t need explan­a­tion to land. At a time where con­ver­sa­tions around cul­ture can often feel divided or overly cat­egor­ised, see­ing a Palestini­an instru­ment sit nat­ur­ally with­in a space built on hip-hop, jazz and live impro­visa­tion felt com­pletely unforced. It wasn’t presen­ted as a state­ment. It was just music exist­ing in the same space as oth­er music, and it worked because of that simplicity.

With Fusion mov­ing back into pro­du­cer mode on the pads and the Ney car­ry­ing through the room, the idea of ancient and future stopped being the­or­et­ic­al and instead became some­thing you could actu­ally hear unfold­ing in real time.

It felt like a remind­er that music doesn’t really belong to any one era or place, but is con­stantly mov­ing and reshap­ing itself depend­ing on who is in the room.

What became clear­er as the night con­tin­ued was how much con­trol Fusion has over shap­ing energy without ever over­power­ing it. The stage func­tioned less like a lineup of sep­ar­ate per­form­ances and more like a shared envir­on­ment that every­one was con­trib­ut­ing to. The band weren’t just accom­pa­ny­ing artists, they were respond­ing to them. The DJ was­n’t just trans­ition­ing between sets, they were part of the same con­ver­sa­tion. Everything felt con­nec­ted rather than segmented.

The house band brought depth and tex­ture through­out, with JJ on keys, Rory Scott on bass and vocals, Spider J mov­ing between vocals and elec­tron­ics, Harry Ben­nett on sax­o­phone, Car­men on trum­pet, and Dem­bis Thioung and Amra on per­cus­sion all feed­ing into a sound that con­stantly evolved as the night pro­gressed. Noth­ing felt stat­ic or fixed, everything felt respons­ive to the moment.

Shef­field based rap­per AJ brought a dir­ect­ness and energy that imme­di­ately shif­ted the room, while AyHearts moved everything in the oppos­ite dir­ec­tion with spoken word that pulled the space into still­ness. There were moments where the entire room felt com­pletely quiet, not out of polite­ness, but because people were genu­inely absorbed in what they were hear­ing. That kind of atten­tion is rare.

A con­ver­sa­tion between Fusion, Faris and Mar­lon took place with­in the flow of the even­ing rather than out­side it. That decision mattered. It gave con­text to what people were wit­ness­ing without break­ing the atmo­sphere that had been built. It acknow­ledged that cul­ture is not only per­form­ance, it is dialogue.

Before Side B, Zak took over dur­ing the inter­mis­sion on the decks, keep­ing up the high vibra­tions. People stayed inside the atmo­sphere of the night, talk­ing, reflect­ing and con­nect­ing while the music car­ried everything for­ward rather than break­ing it apart.

The second half of the show car­ried a slightly dif­fer­ent emo­tion­al weight, begin­ning with a drum-led intro­duc­tion that brought everyone’s atten­tion back into focus before Mizz B Ryan stepped for­ward to per­form The Pro­cess. Stripped back and com­pletely exposed, it became one of those moments where the room feels fully locked in, with noth­ing com­pet­ing for atten­tion oth­er than the per­form­ance itself.

Later in the night, Fusion stepped onto the mic him­self with a track centred around heart­break, which added anoth­er lay­er to how the even­ing was unfold­ing. After spend­ing so much time hold­ing the space for oth­er artists, it was ground­ing to see him step into his own cre­at­ive expres­sion with­in it, remind­ing you that he is not just the per­son cur­at­ing the exper­i­ence but also still an artist with­in it.

Photo Cred­it: Poet Curious

From there, Apex Zero, Mar­lon Hib­bert and the wider col­lect­ive con­tin­ued to build and reshape the energy on stage, with Spider J con­sist­ently adding subtle lay­ers that changed the atmo­sphere without ever pulling focus away from the core of what was hap­pen­ing. Everything con­tin­ued to feel like it was being cre­ated in real time rather than delivered from a fixed structure.

What stayed with me most wasn’t any one per­form­ance, but the over­all feel­ing of the night. Noth­ing felt forced or overly designed to land as a moment. There was no sense of people try­ing to out­per­form each oth­er or chase impact. Instead, there was a genu­ine sense of listen­ing, respond­ing and build­ing togeth­er in a way that felt honest.

The night closed with a drum circle that brought artists and audi­ence into the same space, remov­ing any sense of sep­ar­a­tion between stage and room. It didn’t feel like an end­ing so much as a return to some­thing fun­da­ment­al about why these spaces mat­ter in the first place.

As I left Rich Mix, I kept think­ing about how rare it is to be in a room where music doesn’t just sit in front of you, but actu­ally sur­rounds you and pulls you into it. This wasn’t just a night of per­form­ances. It was a remind­er of what hap­pens when people who genu­inely care about music, cul­ture and com­munity are giv­en space to cre­ate together.

The SUPER­OR­GAN­IC brand is here to con­tin­ue to tell the stor­ies, attract audi­ences not by genres but through heart, through the things that con­nect us most — our relat­ab­il­ity. In a world that can feel so heavy, the brand have done a good job at deliv­er­ing a space needed for live music to thrive, and most import­antly its a space you will leave feel­ing dif­fer­ent to when you arrived. Its a space that will move you, and allow you to not just hear music but to feel it, in a col­lect­ive experience.

Fol­low:  @wearesuperoganic on all plat­forms to keep up to date with future pro­jects and events.

Vis­it: www.wearesuperorganic.com to learn more

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Rishma

Edit­or / PR Con­sult­ant at No Bounds
Rishma Dhali­w­al has extens­ive exper­i­ence study­ing and work­ing in the music and media industry. Hav­ing writ­ten a thes­is on how Hip Hop acts as a social move­ment, she has spent years research­ing and con­nect­ing with artists who use the art form as a tool for bring­ing a voice to the voiceless.

About Rishma

Rishma Dhaliwal has extensive experience studying and working in the music and media industry. Having written a thesis on how Hip Hop acts as a social movement, she has spent years researching and connecting with artists who use the art form as a tool for bringing a voice to the voiceless.