“I’ve seen this show before,” I told a buddy during Efek Rumah Kaca’s homecoming gig on July 26 in Jakarta. I didn’t mean this as a knee-jerk slight. It was a compliment.

I’ve seen vocalist Cholil Mahmud’s son, Angan, do his little dance. I’ve heard Efek Rumah Kaca burn through their list of well-beloved songs and the characters within — the beleaguered victims of past human rights violations in “Jingga” (Orange), “Di Udara” (Up in the Air), “Balerina” (The Ballerina) and the capitalistic shoppers in “Belanja Terus Sampai Mati” (Shop Till Dead).

And I’ve heard the crowds sing, heard their voices drown out Cholil’s. Each time, it never ceases to remind me of what Indonesian music — these Indonesian musicians, these Indonesian lyrics — can do to a person.

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Efek Rumah Kaca has been at this since the mid-2000s, with three records and a sealed legacy to its name — this concert was a pleasant reminder that the band, despite its changing line-ups and hiatuses, will always come back for the patient crowd. And they will sing.

Efek Rumah Kaca has always trafficked in surprise: its blistering third record, Sinestesia, was suddenly released in December 2015 with minimal fanfare. Just look at the title for the concert: “Tiba-tiba Suddenly Konser Again” — cheeky, impulsive.

At the concert, there were a few surprises, too. Iga Massardi, the guitarist and singer for the band Barasuara, lent his hand. Dangdut mainstays Orkes Moral Pengantar Minum Racun were there to help out the band for the song “Cinta Melulu” (Love, Always) and broke out into a jubilant song “Judul-judulan.”

But one of the surprises was the absence of the band’s bassist Adrian Yunan at the concert and in the band’s recent promotional photo.

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Bassist Poppie Airil, Cholil Mahmud and drummer Akbar Bagus Sudibyo, for now, make up the band. Aided by backing vocalists Irma Hidayana, Nastasha Abigail and Cempaka Surakusumah; guitarist Dito Buditrianto; flutist/trumpetist Agustinus Panji Mardika and keyboardist Muhammad Asranur, the band ripped through a 27-song set list in more than two hours with song lyrics shot onto a screen.

After going through the songs culled from two of the band’s records — 2008’s Kamar Gelap (Dark Room) and Sinestesia — the band played the entirety of its self-titled record in its exact order. You could’ve thought it was the band’s last concert.

Guests — from comedian Cak Lontong (appearing in a video), Indonesia’s country director for Amnesty International Usman Hamid to Omuniuum’s Iit Boit — introduced the songs.

Whereas you might remember Cholil’s falsetto adorning cuts like “Desember” (December), “Di Udara,” the self-titled song or “Cinta Melulu” on the record, the crowd in the Kuningan City ballroom supplanted his voice.

It was in equal measure electrifying and moving to go to one of these concerts, one that Efek Rumah Kaca could pull off with or without elaborate preparation; the legacy speaks for itself.

The band might change its line-up, add new songs, put on clown costumes or bring flugenhorns into the mix. Cholil could go back to New York (where he and his family now reside) and return every now and then. They might also draw new fans, new members of the crowd. And they, too, will sing.

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