The crowd at Melihat Lebih Dalam tuck into the free food on offer. (JP/Tim Warton)

As the faithful flocked to Yogyakarta for Mubeng Beteng -- the traditional Javanese New Year ritual of circling the palace in silence -- this past Sunday, another, more rambunctious gathering was taking place.

Melihat Lebih Dalam (Look Deeper), an annual gathering first held in 1997 and hosted by Yogyakarta's Girli collective, draws together Kelompok Penyanyi Jalanans (street singer communities) from across the nation for a day and night of live music, art, food and festivities.

"This is not to celebrate the birth of Girli as many people think, but to remember the death of our friends, to get together, remember and play music for them," said Ari, 32, who is the unofficial leader of Girli, a large grouping of the poor founded in the mid-1980s.

Despite a birth defect, which gave him malformed hands, Ari is one of the lucky ones. Above the stage in Yogyakarta's Taman Budaya Hall hung photos of eight members of Girli who, according to Ari, "all died around this time, November and December" about 10 years ago.

One of them, Untung, suffered the most elaborate and perhaps most tragic death, becoming the victim of a life insurance scheme. Another, Dodo, was more crudely stabbed for stealing a jacket.

Of the other six -- Aim Budi Bandung, Aim Yanto, Sugiono Kenthir, Alm Maic (aka Pluto), Erik and Ivan -- three died from AIDS-related causes and three succumbed to problems related to alcoholism.

While their memory lives on through the hundred-strong crowd at the event, it seems little progress has been made in tackling the source of the problem.

The first band played at midday. Before long, large bottles of bootleg whiskey and vodka appeared, wrapped tightly in black plastic bags.

Large circles formed as the liquor was poured into the cut-off tops of empty water bottles and passed around; cigarette smoke permeated the lofty venue all day long.

"Some of them realize it [alcohol] is a problem but they don't know what to do about it. But many of them just think it's fun. They sort of say, 'hey, I get tourists to get me drunk every day', and laugh off the severity of their situation," said Tim Warton, who has been doing volunteer work with Yogyakarta's homeless for the past nine months.

"But it's easy to see the damage it's doing: jaundiced eyes and skin, many of them would have livers like moldy kitchen sponges.

"There are also cognitive deficits, they have trouble thinking and often find it difficult putting a sentence together. There are also serious issues of self-worth and -perception; many of them have stated they've been labeled jelek *ugly, outcast* by society and find their identity and acceptance in coming from the street."

This year, the festival promised 38 bands from as far away as Semarang, Bekasi and Bulingan, although not all of them made it. The bands on offer were nonetheless entertaining; eclecticism was the name of the day. While the heavier rock of the punk and metal persuasion reigned supreme, there were ample other offerings.

Mibuh, an ensemble made up of a ukulele, jimbe, flute, guitar and viola plucked with bare fingers, all accompanied by the vocal talents of a boy of no more than six who sang in Javanese, played slow and sorrowful tunes.

Other acts included Rescue, a die-hard rockabilly band, and Tengkorak, a solo performance by a man in a skeleton suit dancing robotically to Michael Jackson's "Billy Jean".

A thick thread of socially conscious lyrics wove throughout the collectives.

"We sing about social issues, about life on the street, about real life because this is really it," said Alex, the guitarist for Fragile, who ekes out a living on Yogyakarta's tourist strip of Jalan Sosrowijayan.

"But mostly I just like to play the guitar," he added. When asked how he learned to play Alex shrugged and said, "I just play everyday. I can only play a little, but it's my favorite thing to do."

His passion reflects a common problem.

"They come to Yogya, a lot of the time because their parents push them to, in search of work, or have severely broken and dysfunctional homes and have left," Warton said.

But jobs are hard to come by.

"Who's going to hire a 12-year-old with no skills? ... The unemployment rate in this country is enormous, and there are plenty of people to hire who aren't street kids. So they get a guitar and slip into the poverty cycle.

"The problem," Warton added, "is that they don't develop any life skills."

This is something Warton and his wife Lisa, both trained social workers, are trying to combat by providing vocational assistance, life skills, medical assistance and other necessities where they can. The pair also hopes to establish a program akin to Alcoholics Anonymous, "for those who are interested".

Ari had a slightly different take on the problem -- official identification cards.

"With no address, you know most of these people have no family, so they can't get an ID card."

This, he said, makes them easy targets for police.

"When they get caught they go straight to jail, it's no joke."

That is where the HIV comes in.

"Most of our people get AIDS this way," he said, miming a needle to the fold of his inner elbow. "They get it in there and then they die out here."

The crowd's excitement at the event was palpable; it is clearly a cherished tradition that offers a brief respite from the daily realities of street life, where little help is available.

"I don't know if you've noticed," Warton said, "but Indonesia doesn't have much in the way of social welfare."

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