The “pocket” is something you’ll hear musicians discuss somewhat frequently, but never truly explain quite what it means. Even if they can’t quite find the words to describe it, anyone with any experience in improvised music will be able to identify when they’re sitting properly within this “pocket”, fully immersed in sound and slowly melting into their fellow performers. On a surface level, it sounds like it simply refers to the rhythm, the ways members of a band will collectively lock into a shared sense of pulse, presumably listening out for the drummer’s tempo and letting them lead the rest of the music. But at the same time, this “pocket” implies a deeper connection, where this shared groove makes way for something truly meaningful, a fleeting moment where music and body become indistinguishable, where every movement you make exists solely to contribute to this shared feeling of togetherness.

It’s this feeling of togetherness, dance and sharing the pulse with the people around you, that defined the program of Move My Way, a music festival held for the very first time in Sydney/Eora and Melbourne/Naarm over October 3 and 4. The musicians and bands across the program, whilst coming from various styles encompassing jazz, funk, rock and hip-hop, all share a similar focus on rhythm and movement, encouraging audience members to dance and express themselves freely—to live up to the festival’s name.

Arriving at the massive warehouses of PICA (Port Melbourne Industrial Centre for the Arts) last Sunday, I was immediately received with music blasting from all sides. Whilst I mainly stuck around the main stage (named “Over Here”, as opposed to the slightly smaller “Over There” stage), there was never a moment where attendees weren’t encouraged to dance—the entire precinct transformed into a self-described “playground”. Especially notable was the music that played in between sets, serving as a means for audiences to keep moving to a refreshing blend of jazz and Afrobeat, courtesy of DJ Jamilla Walters, better known by the name Jamz Supernova.

The first act to play the “Over Here” stage was Naarm-based rapper Miles Nautu. His own delivery was confident and assured, a fun tone-setter for the rest of the day, but the most impressive part of his set came was his backing band. Nautu himself had a great sense for when to step away to let his bandmates shine, enabling several show-stopping moments, including a cheeky sax and bass solo as the vocals and the rest of the rhythm section dropped out, relishing in the almost humorous nature of their own improvising before the drums came crashing back in. Similarly fun and inventive was the band’s willingness to experiment with electronics: whilst the instrumentation took the form of a traditional jazz outfit (guitar, bass, keys, drums, saxophone), each of them were surrounded by a sea of pedals and consoles, augmenting their own sound with a series of fun effects. The atmosphere, whilst still drawing from the magic of the raw, embodied act of music-making, was transformed into something otherworldly, the sax transforming into a high-pitched, wailing cry.

Slightly less experimental but similarly magical was the all-improvised set that Sydney-based singer, rapper and keyboardist xmunashe delivered. His band was equally impressive (featuring Ebs Daramola, or EBSOLA—the same drummer that played with Nautu), but I was more drawn to xmunashe himself, who performed basically every instrumental role under the sun. His vocals consist of a powerful middle range and a gorgeous falsetto, and his piano moves between a main, melodic role and a percussive underscoring, melding into the background when necessary to allow the other musicians to creep forward. Particular shoutouts go to secondary vocalist Ashli, who took xmunashe’s spontaneous lyrics about Sisyphus, merry-go-rounds and Hannibal Lecter and transformed them into something uplifting and soulful, and to bassist Mango and his crazy beard, bringing some jaunty, conversational counter-melodies and a fun atmosphere to the jam. As with any jazz ensemble, props should also go to the drummer—Daramola had apparently never played, let alone rehearsed, with xmunashe and his band, but managed to tie the entire group together, making the elusive “pocket” all the more visible.

Whilst this sense of improvised musical connection was certainly a running theme throughout the entire festival, it was felt in varying degrees. GENA, a duo consisting of vocalist Liv.e and drummer Karriem Riggins, felt rather static and over-rehearsed in comparison with the earlier groups. There was effectively no room for improvisation, the songs not being allowed to breathe due to their reliance on a backing track. Regardless, traces of the “pocket” were still there, it’s just that it was slipping from view. Liv.e has a powerful, commanding voice and strong stage presence, and Riggins’ drumming was dynamic and complex, it’s just that they didn’t really engage in a particularly interesting dialogue with the audience.

This brief low point, however, was incredibly brief, as directly after, London-based Afrobeat collective Kokoroko took to the Over Here Stage. Led by the absurdly talented vocalist and brass player Shiela Maurice-Grey, and driven by a desire for dance—keyboardist Yohan Kebede talked about adding “some D’Angelo, some Earth, Wind and Fire” into their sound—the band was an absolute delight to watch. I’ll admit to my own slight bias: when I was first learning saxophone in early high school, some of my first exposure to jazz came from my obsession with this collective, so it was an incredible experience to finally see one of my longtime favourites live. My already high expectations were far surpassed, each member was given the chance to show off their musical chops, as characterised by their solos in Time and Time. I’d love to highlight Kebede’s synth solos in particular, typically starting off with simple melodic ideas before expanding them into the higher ranges of the instrument, increasing rhythmic complexity and slowly leading the audience to an explosive sense of catharsis.

Whilst each musician within the band is individually talented and virtuosic, however, the highlight of the set came from their interactions. Playing music from their 2025 album Tuff Times Never Last, characterised by its funky, dancing rhythms and hope for the future, the band constructed an atmosphere that aligned perfectly with the festival’s ethos, as through their focus on movement and improvisation, everyone within the room was invited to share in the performance. Shiela Maurice-Grey’s trumpet lines were frequently engaged in a call-and-response dynamic with trombone player Anoushka Nanguy’s, and the two drummers Ayo Salawu and Onome Edgeworth, were constantly engaged in a back and forth of adding to each other’s complex-yet-joyful rhythms. Before long, the audience were encouraged to join in, singing the vocal lines back in a surprisingly cohesive two-part harmony. Not only was the “pocket” tangible and palpable, it expanded to encompass the entire warehouse.

After Kokoroko was a show-stopping performance by Zambian musician, rapper and certified rockstar Sampa the Great. “Rockstar” isn’t a term I use lightly—I was genuinely blown away when her set began with what was essentially an arena-rock song. Her music is marked by a commitment to “Nu Zamrock” (also the name of her upcoming album), a fusion of traditional Zambian music and psych-rock—but I did often find myself wishing to hear more of both. Much of her set felt like a hip-hop concert drowned in guitars, sometimes grungy and sometimes incredibly polished, with the occasional hints of jazz piano and some huge synthesiser hits that wouldn’t feel out of place in a Bruno Mars song. That’s not to say that I didn’t have a great time, however, with tracks like Let Me Be Great feeling huge and fun and cathartic, and the final run of songs fully embodying the “Zamrock” feel, Sampa herself increasing in energy as she energetically rapped over hooky guitar riffs and rhythmic percussion lines.

After a reasonably major disappointment (I got stuck waiting for food for an hour, and missed most of Freddie Gibbs’ set), the night still managed to end on a high note, soundtracked by the high-energy jazz of London’s Ezra Collective, a funky five-piece defined by the goal of letting their audiences “party with the east end”. The group fit the festival perfectly, encouraging the crowd to move their own way, to dance and share the joy of music (and celebrate drummer Femi Koleoso’s birthday). The focus of the performance felt just as much on the audience as the band itself: I was fortunate enough to be stood close to the barricade, where I joined in the choir of raving fans singing Ife Ogunjobi and James Mollison’s horn lines back at them—and before long, the two of them, joined by bassist TJ Koleoso, stepped down from the stage themselves, playing from the pit. Ezra Collective were a pretty perfect way to close out the festival, infusing tracks like Ajala and Don’t Worry with a positively manic energy and ensuring everyone left with sore feet and a grin, leftovers from a full day of dancing and sharing in the bliss of performance. The fabled “pocket”, after a bit of ebbing and flowing throughout the day, was positively inescapable by the end of Move My Way.

Photography courtesy of Eloise Coomber.