Grrilla Step
Mista Savona
Dexter
Declan Kelly
East Brunswick Club, Melbourne VIC
Saturday 11th July

Definition of frustrating: having a room full of people pumped to dance, facing a DJ on stage wrestling with his equipment. Such is the scene that befell the East Brunswick Club early on Saturday night after DJ Dexter took to the stage. As soon as the ex-Avalancher was in command of the decks, and after a gently building and trouble-free set from Declan Kelly, it was clear that something was amiss. A noisy, audible digital crrrkkk grated behind every beat. After twenty minutes and much plugging and unplugging from Dexter and the mixer the issue still wasn't resolved. Would this mean Dexters's two allotted sets tonight wouldn't happen? Would it derail Grrilla Step altogether? With a little more prodding suddenly came a relieved looking Dexter, who stepped to the mic to say his laptop had fucked up. And now it was ok. And that we should party. And so it was.

Mista Savona's members swell to cover the entire stage at the East Brunswick, in order to accommodate the dozen strong ensemble. Led by keyboardist Jake Savona the crack band play a hip-hop/reggae/dub-heavy hybrid behind a revolving trio of frontpeople that take on singing, rapping and MC'ing duties with gusto. At one point they stand aside to let a petite, barely clad African dancer shimmy centre stage, generating much whistling, hands in the air and a further ripple of booty-shaking in the now sold out venue. The band are launching a single tonight and the place is packed, the only thing missing from the idyllic scene perhaps a thick blanket of reefer smoke. Which in the great outdoors - where Mista Savona would thrive - shouldn't be a problem.

Like a twirling, rythmic Medusa, Grrilla Step take to the stage in a multi-faceted whirl of headdresses, bare skin, percussion logs, smoke, traditional tattoos and all out violent krumping. It's a blistering opening this explosion of rythm, colour and dance, all the while its diminutive ringleader Dexter hidden behind the wall of chaos on decks up the back of the stage. As he said in a recent interview, ""When I was first exposed to it (krump) five years ago, it just triggered that excitement I don't get often." It's easy to see why. As Dexters beats match with the band of drummers (polynesian logs, bongoes as well as a regular ol' drumkit) pounding away furiously, four buff kids in black tee shirts and baseball caps dance violently across the front of the stage; krumping, bursting with machismo, slapping and egging each other - and the crowd - on. It's arresting, powerful stuff. Having seen enough po-faced indie dudes to last several lifetimes its intoxicating. This command to HAVE FUN. So...novel. Meanwhile, everyone is pretty much losing their shit in return.

And so the set goes by. It's Dexter's name that at least sparked the initial drawcard to Grrilla Step and so it fits that the show runs like his own personal variety hour. One minute there's krumping, the next the drummers are playing to his mixes, then he disappears while the percussionists solo outrageously. One of them soon steps out front for some MC'ing as Dexter returns and then there's more dancing. It's loose, physical, involving; like a block party without the block, the East Brunswick Club a sea of arms, dancing, love-sharing and party-making. It might be hard to pin down exactly what Grrilla Step is, but there's absolutely no question what they make people do.

(Pics: Matthew Miller)