Atlanta rapper Future, whose druggy, heavy-lidded tracks dominated mainstream hip-hop in 2015, tops the bill at this year’s fest. The event takes place April 30 at Gateway D.C. Pavilion.

Future will be preceded by sateen R&B vocalist Jhené Aiko, who broke out in 2013 with Souled Out. Odd Future affiliates The Internet also made the lineup, along with eclectic Dr. Dre associate Anderson .Paak, Motown signee BJ the Chicago Kid and Soulection producer Sango.

Tickets for the fest go on sale Friday on Broccoli City’s website, and they’re free in exchange for community service. See photos from Broccoli City’s 2014 and 2015 editions here on Bandwidth.

And After That, We Didn’t Talk arrives on Soulection a week ahead of schedule.

GoldLink has been on a steady incline since his 2014 EP, working with hip-hop superproducer Rick Rubin and making XXL‘s Freshman Class issue, while popularizing the hip-hop subgenre he calls future bounce.

In a 2014 interview with Bandwidth, GoldLink said he didn’t pursue music as much as he defaulted to it.

“I didn’t want to go to school, and I couldn’t work a 9-to-5, and I didn’t know what to do,” the MC told Bandwidth’s Briana Younger. “So I decided to try rap.”

Stream GoldLink’s And After That, We Didn’t Talk via Spotify or purchase it on iTunes.

Warning: Explicit lyrics.

Ask the people behind promotions group WERC, and they might say it’s the present. That’s because the Atlanta event planners are bringing their alternative party, VIBES, to D.C. for the first time tonight.

“It’s all about the energy,” says WERC co-founder Will Edmond. “If you come to our party, whether you’re 18 or 40, you can still have fun. When people actually experience a whole different side of the clubgoing scene — we’re not about bottle service or ‘Come in and spend $100 to sit in this section’ — it’s really about having a good time.”

Tonight marks WERC’s first event outside of Atlanta, but VIBES has always had a link to the DMV region — particularly its more bracing, contemporary hip-hop scene.

Founded in April 2014, WERC looked to a DMV artist to set the tone for its first party. Producer Lakim, known for his work with ascendant Virginia rapper GoldLink and tastemaker collective Soulection, filled what was then a void in Atlanta’s hip-hop scene.

“[Lakim] kind of spearheaded what we wanted to represent,” says Xavier BLK, one of WERC’s resident DJs. “We realized a lot of Atlanta was listening to more of a futuristic, progressive fusion of Atlanta-based music with the 808s and the Southern bounce… but no one was bringing [those artists] out here.”

The group — which Atlanta’s Creative Loafing recently named the city’s “best creative event planners” — wanted to present an alternative to the pricey and predictable nightclub scene, a culture that’s been declining in popularity. WERC co-founder Will Edmond says VIBES focuses on music, particularly the stuff you won’t catch on the radio. (He cites Canadian producer Kaytranada and Seattle’s Sango — both of whom have worked with GoldLink — as examples.) That approach meshes well with D.C.’s existing alt-club scene, which draws a young-adult crowd to midcity venues including U Street Music Hall and Velvet Lounge.

Two selectors on VIBE’s bill tonight at Liv Nightclub are U Street regulars: DJs Native Sun (who’s already played the party in Atlanta) and Underdog. Headliner Elhae isn’t local — he’s an Atlantan, too — but he is a triple threat: a producer, singer and rapper.

For a group based in Atlanta, WERC has built surprisingly strong connections here.

“I went to Trillectro [in Maryland] this year, and hanging out with all the DMV people was great,” Edmond says. “I met a lot of people up there who are doing the same things we’re doing… and I feel like there’s a scene in D.C. that’s building.”

Xavier agrees. In a way, the VIBES party is practicing a form of diplomacy.

“It wouldn’t be right to just pop into another city that we respect without showing love,” the DJ says. “We want to represent what it feels like there, too.”

VIBES takes place tonight at Liv Nightclub in D.C.

Born in Kingston, Jamaica, and raised in a Christian community in Newport News, Virginia, Masego — real name Micah Davis — could be called musically blessed. He’s a vocalist who also plays cello, trumpet, drums, guitar and piano, but he specializes in the saxophone, both alto and tenor. So even though he could be classified as a hip-hop artist, that doesn’t begin to tell the whole story. He prefers a genre of his own making: TrapHouseJazz.

Released in June, Masego’s Pink Polo EP (stream it below) is the fullest realization yet of his TrapHouseJazz style. It merges traditional jazz sounds — saxophone, scatting — with the thump of trap music and the swing of house. That combination is probably what attracted eclectic, tastemaking label and collective Soulection to the Virginian’s music: He works within hip-hop, but burrows deeper, down to its roots.

Masego doesn’t limit himself to just music, either; he dabbles in comedy (on Pink Polo and on social media, he plays a lecherous-but-lovable character called Uncle Sego, inspired by a Dairy Queen employee he’s known for years) and he’s even broken into tech, helping build an app that makes it easier for musicians to link up and collaborate. Called Network, the app is expected out next year.

Before Masego came to D.C. last week to play a midnight brunch hosted by Made in the DMV, Bandwidth asked him about his DIY approach to music composition, his love of comedy and how he sneaked onto Soulection’s radar with a bit of Internet trickery.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Bandwidth: You don’t know how to read music. Do you ever plan to learn?

Masego: I feel like I need to learn it eventually just to open up another door of connections. There are some people who aren’t going to respect you if you can’t read music. I don’t need to, but I will [learn how] eventually, just so I can write sheet music and give it to people. Everyone communicates with music in a different way. With some people, if there’s not sheet music, they’re not playing it.

So what about writing music — can you do that?

If I sit down for an hour, I can figure it out, but I’m not fluent. I made my own rulebook. I made this chart of my own that’s not staff or music. [I] say, “This [symbol] represents a G note.” In my mind, I know what G sounds like. I show it to people and they’re like, “That’s not [notes].” But to me, it makes perfect sense.

I really just go with what my soul says. There’s not a lot of thinking in my music. I freestyle a lot of things and organize it later, and then it becomes a song. Or I just turn my piano on and put my hands on the keys and whatever happens, happens. It’s real soul-driven. Anytime I’ve tried to make this recipe for dopeness, it just doesn’t work.

I saw an interview you did back in January in which you said you wanted to get down with Soulection. About eight months later, you play their Sound Of Tomorrow show in L.A. How did you make that happen?

Basically, I ripped three songs from YouTube from Soulection recap videos, put it in a beat, played sax over it and titled it “Soulection x Masego 2015.” I was like, “The public is going to think that we collaborated,” and “[Soulection] is going to think [I’m] bold for stealing [their] content and playing sax over it, claiming that we’re about to be a thing in 2015.” So Joe Kay [a Soulection co-founder] found that and emailed me shortly afterwards. [Laughs] I’m pretty much like, “Come fight me if you think this is bad.”

You’re extremely active on Soundcloud and you work closely with people who are also active online. But some of those people are across the country, like Medasin, the Dallas producer you collaborated with on the Pink Polo EP. How does that dynamic work, versus recording with someone in person?

With younger producers nowadays, the Internet really works out the best. People are very, “I don’t want to tell you I don’t like this, I’m just going to change it.” It works out to where I do what I feel is dope, I send it off to you, you do your thing and then send it back and we just create this thing.

But as far as being in the studio with somebody, the vibe definitely has to be right because I’m not going to force it. I wouldn’t want someone to be like, “Create ‘Girls That Dance’ again.” Music doesn’t work that way for me. I don’t go in the studio with the mission to kill the game.

Tell me about TrapHouseJazz, the band.

There’s 100 people that are in TrapHouseJazz. In Virginia, people get it now. I had a bunch of auditions to see who understands that you can’t just play gospel music your whole life. I played some Soundcloud beats to see if they could get down with that, and then they were just in the band. So it’s two things after that. I can call you for gigs that make sense with you, and we just get these different combinations of instruments. I got a harp player, a stand-up bass, violin, violas. And then on top that, I have stems from everybody. So anytime I make a beat with their stems, it’s a TrapHouseJazz band song.

You made the song “Peace & Love” after the Charleston church shooting. Do you feel a certain social responsibility as an artist?

I’m aware and I feel like we should be consistent more as a culture. I try to help with that via music. I can try to allow someone to be changed by a song. I made “Peace & Love” right after Mike Brown [was killed]. First I just made a small loop, then another incident happened and I worked with it again. So each time something happened, I kept making that song. And by the end, “Peace & Love” kind of came out — the lyrics came last. I feel like it’s my responsibility to contribute to a good vibe in the world and to do what I can, when I can.

In addition to everything that you do musically, you have your app, Network. How did that come about?

Early on, I wanted to help out other people that were low-key. I feel like I was one of those low-key gems in Virginia, and I feel like a lot of my friends are as well. There are so many people that aren’t poppin’, but they should be. With the app, I tried to make an environment where everybody that’s dope could be in the public eye.

What I’ve been learning with music, at least at this stage, is that there’s not crazy money in it if you just do it the music way. If I just do shows, I’m not really [earning a lot] because I’m trying to bring my band with me. That is to say, I wanted to make something that was the foundation of my income and my lifestyle so that I could continue to do music for fun. I don’t want to create music or do a partnership because of the money. I don’t want to be money-influenced. A lot of my friends are [doing well], but music is not fun for them.

You have an alter-ego you call Uncle Sego. Who is he? Can you describe the marriage between your music and comedy?

There are, like, four people in my life that I enjoy making fun of, but it’s in a flattering type of way because they’re cool and influential people. [One of them is] the ice cream man that’s worked at Dairy Queen for as long as I can remember. He’s who he is 100 percent of the time. He’s got that Uncle Sego voice and he’s always hollering at women. Uncle Sego is a character that exists in a lot of places and allows me to have more fun onstage.

I think I structure my show around stand-up comedy, and we just sprinkle music into it. That’s just the easiest way for me to do what I do. Jamie Foxx was one of those people where I could see how you finessed the comedy and then hopped on the keys and then you’re making them laugh four seconds later. I felt most comfortable doing it like that.

The rock-band simulation game proved to be the perfect lure for the Ellicott City native who had tried — then abandoned — piano and clarinet in his younger years. Now 21, the University of Maryland senior is a multi-instrumentalist who just released his debut on tastemaker label Soulection.

McClenney’s new release finds him playing all of the instruments (except percussion and horns) to craft the sound of a band in a live setting. He balances traditional values with contemporary sensibilities, and he likes to crisscross genres, touching on jazz, R&B, hip-hop, funk and disco across Soundcloud uploads. He doesn’t limit himself to one project, either; he’s also a member of Flow-Fi, another largely online-based production collective and independent label.

When he’s not noodling away — or working toward a dual degree in Spanish and jazz piano performance — the artist formerly called Mister Mack busies himself by writing and performing music, producing tracks and remixing other people’s work. He also DJs, and that’s the hat he’ll be wearing Thursday night, when he tops a Trillectro-booked bill at U Street Music Hall. It will be his first headlining gig in D.C.

Bandwidth spoke with McClenney in advance of Thursday’s show. We talked about the decline of jazz appreciation, the need for more live instrumentation and how he strikes a balance between past and present.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

Bandwidth: When did you first decide to start taking music seriously?

Chris McClenney: I feel like I always kind of had a talent for music, but I didn’t realize it until later. … It wasn’t until I was 14 in ninth grade when I coincidentally played Guitar Hero. That changed my life. For some reason, that game fascinated me, and it introduced me to a whole new style of music. That’s when I started getting into alternative rock… I beat the game on expert, so I was like, “You know what, let me just learn how to play guitar.”

In the description for your Contemplations EP, you wrote that jazz is an “unappreciated genre among our generation, and too many of us forget the greats that have paved the way for the music we love today.” Why do you think jazz isn’t appreciated as much anymore?

Coming into the jazz school at Maryland and seeing the difference between my understanding of jazz in comparison to the people who have been doing it for a while and the faculty and teachers, it gave me an idea of how much it’s really diminished.

Looking at the production scene that I’m a part of, jazz is almost like a mystical thing that some producers feel they can’t reach — like it’s beyond what they can do. And for a lot of listeners, they don’t have an appreciation, I think, because they’re just not familiar with it. It’s not popular. It’s not on the radio… And part of jazz is the connection you get when you go see someone live. You get a sense of the energy and the feel. Today, you can watch a video or you can hear it on Spotify. That kind of takes away from people’s interest.

Is it a goal of yours to — for lack of a better term — force-feed people jazz in hopes of revitalizing it?

I don’t consider myself a jazz musician first. Primarily because I wasn’t raised on jazz. I was raised on R&B like Earth, Wind and Fire and more funk stuff. I’m still in the early stages of learning jazz. It took me a long time — probably up until a few months ago — to accept the fact that people don’t really fully mature into jazz until they spend years on it. For a while, I thought that since I was playing catch-up, I had to hurry up and be great in two years. But it takes a lot of time.

My goal isn’t to force-feed people jazz because I don’t want to be confined by jazz. That’s not my only interest. I want people to understand that I am a musician. My goal is versatility. I consider myself a performing artist as well as a producer.

You seem to stress the live elements of music and maintain that we need more live music. Why the emphasis on live instrumentation?

Some people will say I’m being pretentious, but I just think that the skillset for music is not as high as it used to be. Technology has contributed to that… Don’t get me wrong, technology is great. I love technology. I’m very thankful for all of the opportunities that have come to me via the Internet. But I think music production is too ubiquitous today because there’s so many tools that make it so easy. People don’t have to take it upon themselves to learn instruments. And that’s perfectly fine, but if everyone decided to neglect learning instruments, we’re not going to have anyone who knows instruments, which pigeonholes us.

That’s the foundation. If everything becomes so easy then the standard is not going to be as high and the opportunities become limited. I believe there should be a certain balance of music that is performed and composed live just for the sake of having respect for that. That’s something that we can’t lose.

“If everyone decided to neglect learning instruments, we’re not going to have anyone who knows instruments, which pigeonholes us.”

How do you balance the dichotomy of doing what you do as a producer and DJ while still remaining true to your skills and training?

Going to school really opened my eyes up. Seeing other musicians inspired me. Especially now, I go to school and I see all these great musicians and people who spend all these hours really getting into their instrument and in the practice room.

A lot of musicians make sacrifices — go into depression, start abusing drugs — for their art, but I can DJ a show for an hour and get paid, like, $300. And I’m fairly new at that. But I have a friend who spends hours a day practicing his scales and he barely gets paid $100 for a gig. Or I have friends studying classical music and they may not even get a job after they graduate. So it’s just a weird feeling for me. That’s why I feel a certain sense of accountability. The respect isn’t really there, in my opinion, for what people go through.

I’m not saying that people who produce music on a computer — because I’m a producer as well — are inferior. I’m not saying it doesn’t require hard work and time because I know that I’ve spent a lot of time on a computer and sacrificed a lot of sleep. But the equity, in terms of the respect, is just not the same.

Are you ever concerned that taking a more traditional approach will isolate listeners or make it harder for people to connect with what you’re doing?

I’m always kind of nervous about that. [With the White Label], I was confident with it. At the end of the day, it’s good music. I know it will do well. But I also know someone else could easily put out another song and it would eclipse [my work] because it’s catchy. I try not to think about it as much, but it’s unfortunate. I wish people would appreciate this to the same extent that they’ll appreciate a banger. … Save for a few things, I try to make it less flashy or not overproduced. … And that’s why some people may be passive to it.

And how did that play out with the white label?

I wanted to make an EP that felt like a live band. I had to recreate that vibe in my room. … There’s one horn part that obviously I didn’t play because I don’t play horns. I programmed that in. And the drums, I didn’t play that. I carefully programmed those in as well. But I performed the instruments I did play mostly [live] so it felt like a studio performance.

I really wanted to challenge people’s ideas. There’s that moment where I was like, “I brought my band,” and the joke was I was my band. In reality, it was just me piecing stuff together in my room. I hadn’t felt that inspired in a while.

Chris McClenney DJs U Street Music Hall on Thursday, Feb. 12.