Lisbon’s housing projects on the outskirts of the city have long segregated its African diaspora. Transport links are poor, making it difficult for residents such as DJ Marlon Silva to travel to the centre. But these days Silva and many of the DJs who grew up in the high-rises have little need to. Busy playing nightclubs around the world, they spend most of their time going to and from the airport.

That is because, out of these isolated communities, a crucial new dance scene has emerged. Silva, who goes by the name DJ Marfox, calls its sound batida, which in Portuguese, he explains, is the word used to describe the beating of your heart after a car crash. It’s an apt metaphor for the music, a collision of African dance genres such as kuduro, kizomba and tarraxinha with house and techno that is unique to Lisbon’s ghettos. Each producer has their own distinctive take but all will have you winding your waist.

Comparisons have been drawn to grime, but while batida shares its fiercely independent culture, the musical similarities are less pronounced. Aside from a passing resemblance to early Ruff Sqwad and Wiley productions, the syncopated swing of UK funky might be a more fitting parallel. The most instantly recognisable element of batida is its writhing polyrhythmic percussion fashioned from off-kilter hand drums and whiplashing snares that can mutate several times in the course of a single track. Another distinguishing feature is its punch-drunk melodies: at once hypnotic and unsettling as a result of their harmonic mismatches. Although it might sound alien at first, this is party music: after the sense of disorientation subsides, your feet take over.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest DJ Marfox. Photograph: Other

The DJs learn young by western standards. Many, such as Firmeza, were first exposed to the music from as young as five; by 12, most are making beats using software called FL Studio. The scene’s progenitor DJ Nervoso is semi-retired at 30, while Marfox is an elder statesmen at 28. Firmeza, who turned 20 this year, is part of a younger second generation that includes Lilocox, Maboku and Nidia Minaj, who is still at school.

To begin with, the music was distributed for free over file-sharing clients and MSN Messenger. But in 2007, Silva was approached by Nelson and Pedro Gomes, who saw him perform at a local music festival. The pair proposed starting a label to release his music and four years later they launched Príncipe Discos with Silva’s debut EP. Since then, Silva has taken on the role of A&R for the label, finding budding producers such as DJ Nigga Fox (who played at Berghain earlier this year). “If one eats then everyone eats, that’s my politics,” he explains.

Within the scene, there appears to be surprisingly little friction between precocious youngsters and their older peers. In fact, quite the opposite. In homage to Marfox, who named himself after SNES video-game Star Fox, an outer space shoot-em-up, several producers – like KarFoX, Liofox and Dadifox – have taken on the same suffix. Nervoso is equally revered, and Firmeza tells me that he considers him “the greatest DJ in the world”. Most of the scene’s new wave were inspired to start producing after witnessing one of the two patriarchs perform at neighbourhood events. Now scores of kids across Lisbon’s barrios are trying to follow their lead. “It’s a positive thing,” says Marlon. “We’ve proven its possible to have a career doing this.”

Firmeza, who’s already carving out a name for himself, picked up the basics of DJing by closely watching his idol. Eager to learn more, he turned to YouTube tutorials which taught him how to produce (as well as do tricks like mix with his elbows). It helped too that his older brother and father were both DJs themselves. Alma Do Meu Pai, Firmeza’s debut solo EP released in October, is dedicated to the latter, who passed away recently. “He was very supportive of my music, he always took the time to listen” Firmeza says. It’s his most ambitious release yet: the six-minute long title track, almost three times the average length of a batida track, doubles as both an elegy and a potent statement of intent.

Unlike Firmeza, Nidia Minaj, who at 18 is one of the youngest Príncipe artists, takes after an artist from outside of the scene, borrowing her name from rapper Nicki Minaj. Like her namesake, Nidia is one of very few female artists in a male-dominated scene. At school, Nidia formed the all-girl Kaninas Squad with her friends to choreograph moves and sing vocals to their favourite batida tracks. To stay on top of the competition, they started producing their own musical backing together. “To begin with it was just a hobby, but then I wanted us to be a force to be reckoned with,” she says.

When her family relocated to Bordeaux in 2011, Nidia left behind both her crew and her closely-knit community. Rather than severing her ties with the scene, however, the displacement motivated her to keep making music as way of staying connected. “The sense of loneliness is what turned me to producing,” she says. Her debut EP, Danger, came out in February on Príncipe Discos – but while Nidia is appreciative of the international recognition it’s given her, she says that what matters most to her is the reception back in Portugal. “In France, I’ve been asked ‘Where are you from?’ and when I tell them, they respond ‘I didn’t think that someone from Portugal could be black’. Yeah, I have African blood in me, but I’m proud to be Portuguese and release my music on a Portuguese label that could only have come from our Lisbon community,” she says.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Nidia Minaj. Photograph: Marta Pina/Other

A recent Príncipe showcase brought Marfox, Firmeza and Minaj to London’s Dance Tunnel. Their entourage formed circles to show off their moves, a hangover from the block parties in which the sound was incubated. Throughout the night, chants of filho da puta (“Son of a bitch”) broke out, the Portuguese equivalent of calling for a reload. Amid the festive atmosphere, it wasn’t difficult to see how batida has caught on so far from its origins.

Over the past year, the scene’s DJs have become more in-demand not only in the UK but also in Europe, Africa and Latin America. Nigga Fox has played at Barcelona’s Sonar and Poland’s Unsound festival, while Marlon has appeared at events in Berlin, New York and Rio de Janeiro. Warp have also recently released the third and final instalment of a compilation series, titled Cargaa (slang for a “hot” track), that has brought wider exposure to Príncipe’s staple party tracks and introduced new producers from the city’s peripheries.

Back home, Silva is a minor celebrity, and 50ft murals of him and Nervoso have been painted in his neighbourhood. It wasn’t so long ago that DJs from the projects were blackballed by Lisbon club promoters. Now, their appearances at Noite Príncipe, the label’s monthly club night, draw people from all over the city. “Together as a scene we have reached places we never dreamed of,” says Silva with no exaggeration.

Cargaa 3, a Príncipe Discos compilation, is out now on Warp; DJ Firmeza’s debut EP Alma Do Meu Pai is also out now on Príncipe