Buraka Som Sistema Hoxton Square Bar & Kitchen, London N1
'I want to see your cellphones in the air!' orders Buraka Som Sistema's lead MC, Conductor, inciting a bout of fittingly postmodern crowd participation. 'This is how we do it in Lisbon,' he warns with gruff Portuguese annunciation. Immediately the intimate and packed crowd of party-loving young musos submit to the almighty bass quake, squawking synthesisers and furious thrusting rhythms of kuduro, the latest imported urban dance flavour. Originating in Angola and exported to the suburban colonies in and around Lisbon, kuduro combines age-old African rhythms with euro-techno, samba, calypso and a healthy dose of hip hop bravado. This evening, Buraka's seven-strong crew of DJs, percussionists, MCs and dancers give one of the highest-octane cultural lessons imaginable.
World music's image has traditionally been stuck in a stereotype of sandal-sporting middle-aged chaps stroking beardy chins and regaling dinner party guests with stories of their travels. But things are changing. Over the past few years a selection of web-savvy American and English urban and dance music producers bored with the same old sounds have realised that exciting beats and rhymes do not sprout exclusively from US and UK soil: in fact, the truth i s worlds - or at least continents - apart.
The man in the driving seat of this global exploration was Philadelphia DJ and producer Wesley Pentz, aka Diplo, who through exotic gigging trips and some extensive MySpace detective work began to establish a cyber network of like-minded urban musicians from all over the world who fed their distinct flavours into a collaborative melting pot.
First to catch the public eye was Diplo's one-time girlfriend/protégée MIA, the west London vocalist and producer whose two acclaimed albums have chronicled the influx of exotic influences into US and UK street sounds. Last year's Kala, for instance, fused a staggering array of styles from regions like the Caribbean, India, Africa and Australia with a dark mix of electro, grime and Baltimore club music.
Months after Diplo contacted them, Bonde Do Role were being whisked away from Brazil and thrust in front of wide-eyed crowds all across the States and Europe. Bringing their own take on the sound of the favelas, funk carioca (also known as baile funk) and a carnage-inducing live show, they quickly established the raw ghetto soundtrack of their homeland as one of the trendiest sounds around.
The scene has now been set for remixers like the Swedish/French duo Radioclit to work their magic on artists like Malawian singer Esau Mwamwaya, resulting in a series of mesmerising tracks where his earthy traditional vocals are diced among the synthetic stabs of their 'euro-crunk' compositions. Hip US urban bible Fader was so impressed that it made Esau last month's cover star, despite the fact that he had yet to release any tracks.
Tonight, with a swagger custom-built around kuduro's distinctive offbeat rhythm, the burly Conductor and his beanpole shade-wearing cohort MC Kalaf stalk the stage in front of the artillery of DJ machinery and exotic drum racks. Relentlessly inciting the crowd to bounce refrains off them, and grind to pummelling kick drums, it's clear that the audience are as much a part of the show as any of the group's members. For the carnival-bound 'D...D...D...D...Jay', they welcome muscly dancer Heráclito onstage, who promptly disrobes, providing a dazzling glimpse of the contortionist moves that form the lifeblood of their native scene.
The next guest, baby-faced MC Sabrosa, forces her male counterparts to raise their game. On tracks like the pulsating underground hit 'Yah!', and latest raucous single 'Sound of Kuduro', she spits lyrics and gyrates with effortless venom, pigtails bobbing, and sending onlookers into a sticky frenzy. As the menacing surge of sub-bass makes way for an Atlanta-rap-meets-tribal-war-dance triple drum assault, marking the crew's signature track 'Black Diamond', ringleader Lil John leans across his decks to enquire: 'Does everyone here know about kuduro yet?' After a performance like this, one can only assume it was a rhetorical question.