Shangaan Electro @ The Kazimier Garden, Liverpool, 20 Jul

One! Eight! Seven! One! Eight! Eight! One! Eight... NINE! It's a sweltering day's dusk and Shangaan Electro's Nozinja is hyping a crowd decked in headdresses and wrecked on absinthe into a wet swarm, none of us still totally au fait with the aggressive yet liquid hip-swivelling we'd been introduced to at the earlier workshop but, now lubricated by booze, trying our darnedest anyway.

The South African group's music takes traditional Shangaan and ups it to – you guessed it – a delirious 189 beats per minute and works sickly, attention-deficit keyboards and samples into gunshot drums, tying them together with repeated motifs of love lost and won delivered by singers Nkata Mawewe and Tiyiselani Vomaseve. It's a style somehow both wild and wise, pairing sheer physical stimulation with plain, humanistic messages – as Nozinja explains in an informal Q&A tagged on to the workshop, it's performed everywhere, from competitions to weddings to funerals; whenever there's togetherness, and the need for relief and release.

After his mask-clad, elastic-acrobatic Tshetsha Boys – who incidentally get way better moves than the women, all lunges and highkicks and walk-like-an-Egyptians, but on the flipside are apparently obliged to strap on bulbous fake bellies and arses – have reduced us to giggles and rapturous, sweaty applause, Glasgow's highlife flag flyer Auntie Flo and partner Esa plough a deeper, dirtier furrow into the night with an analogue hardware set-up that sprouts wires and disgorges a more feasibly danceable, freshly flayed bpm.

Having painted the Garden in symbols of orange and green – and trussed it with swatches of shorn fabric bunting for the occasion – it's clear the promoters have poured thought and dedication into making this day an experience, not just a gig; and the appreciation is palpable as a tuff enuff roster of DJs, including Abandon Silence's Andrew Hill and Boiler Room's own Thristian, takes us into the small hours down Rat Alley, a thrown-together disco-lit shack between the Garden and the venue. One eight nine, indeed.