There may be more krump fans in Melbourne than I had thought.

Krump, a combative (stylistically, at least) kind of hip-hop dancing (and music) that hit the mainstream – relatively speaking – with photographer and film director David LaChapelle’s 2005 documentary, Rize (don’t confuse him with comedian Dave Chapelle, musically aligned though they may be), but has its roots in the working class urbania of Los Angeles, wider California, and Central America, as well as in the popping, locking, and breaking dance styles of 1980s hip-hop, is hardly the kind of dance style that one might expect in Melbourne’s rather hipster-infested music scene.

But there might be more krumping in Melbourne than you’d think. Saturday night’s show at the East Brunswick Club, ostensibly a vehicle for the launch of local dancehall and rap outfit Mista Savona’s 7”, eventually turned into a bit of a krump-fest.

After a short opening volley from DJ Declan Kelly, the night began to gather some real momentum as Melbourne’s hallowed mash-up king, DJ Dexter from The Avalanches, hit the turntables. But of course, to describe Dexter simply through the prism of “mash-up” – that mish-mash of bastard pop and hip-hop beats that can be as compelling as Girl Talk’s latest, or as god-awful as the drunk at your local pub who insists that any ‘80s track with a new beat is surely the latest mash-up classic – would be doing the man a great disservice.

Indeed, Dexter’s musical influences range far and wide, and his DJ sets are universally esteemed (he was, in fact, a four-time winner of the Australian Dance Music Championships, and came in second at one world DMC). Saturday’s set was predictably replete with Michael Jackson homages, but Dexter’s samples were (as usual) imaginative, not trite; fitting and unforced. Blackstreet and Dr. Dre’s No Diggity segued into Jackson’s Who Is It (for a few moments of, “Is that what I think it is…?”) only to be replaced shortly afterwards by a fabulous rendition of Dre and Snoop Dogg’s Next Episode.

At 10.30 the main act hit the stage, a true live band if you’ve ever seen one. I counted African drums, guitars, a bass, a horn section composed of at least a saxophone or three, a keyboard, a full drum set, and, of course, the DJ. But there was method to this seeming madness, and the sounds were more harmonic than cacophonous, and catchy enough to ensure that plenty of dancing took place.

Playing a mix of reggae, dancehall and (effectively) rock and soul music, Mista Savona proved that Melbourne’s musical talents are not confined only to the ubiquitous indie poseurs that inhabit every other bar these days. Their social commentary was likewise refreshing. As a rhythmically-endowed dancer of (probable) African descent gyrated in front of us, the core singers, including the boisterously-lunged Vida Sunshine, covered topics like education for the masses and complaints about the working life. But this was no Verve or Radiohead-esque wholehearted rejection of modern life, with music representative only of its inevitable sadness, but rather a celebration of the beauty and joy of life – in spite of its problems.

Now, the krumping. I had assumed that Dexter was the reason the audience was there. He’s famous; he’s brilliant. But when his main act (these days), Grrilla Step, jumped on stage, it didn’t seem to be Dexter alone that they were cheering. Indeed, the aggressive dance moves of the “krumpers” – a group of about five baseball-capped youngsters – were centre stage. Grrilla Step’s music was itself fairly interesting, but for the most part it acted simply as a soundtrack to the dancing.

Unfortunately I didn’t feel the enthusiasm that what was left of the crowd seemingly did (Around a quarter of the room cleared out as Mista Savona finished their set and Grrilla Step warmed up; but those who stayed were wholly enthused about it). But that may not be the point. As LaChapelle’s documentary is at pains to point out, krumping is as much about disenfranchised youths seeking community and friendship through this new form of self-expression as anything else. The beats may not have been ground-breaking last Saturday night, but the atmosphere certainly opened my eyes, at least, to something new and exciting in Melbourne.

Though it might be a little harsh to criticise what was essentially a thoroughly enjoyable night, the set times might do with a little more thought. As a Mista Savona member commented, their own list had gone a little long; somewhere in between it seems that we lost Dexter’s promised second DJ set, too. For a Dexter fan, that was a downer: but for everyone else there, it seemed, it just meant more Grrilla Step and Mista Savona – between us all, no one complained.