In this together: Silampukau take its new fuller sound to the stage at Taman Ismail Marzuki arts center in Central Jakarta.

They were all there: the prostitutes of the Dolly red-light district, the down-on-his-luck booze dealer, the lovestruck couple swayed by the opulence of Paris and soccer-playing kids whose pastime was obstructed by construction works.

Folk band Silampukau told each and every one of these stories in a two-night concert Bermain di Cikini (Playing in Cikini) at Teater Kecil, Taman Ismail Marzuki, Jakarta.

Surabaya-based duo Silampukau — consisting of Eki and Kharis (both on guitar) — have had a better fate than most musicians in the folk realm. With their veritable storytelling and crisp instrumentation, Silampukau’s music is a far cry from the deluge of coffee shop tunes that seem to plague folk these days. For one thing, they understood the meaning of the word folk from the get-go.

That night, Silampukau played a set that did not resemble a show that I saw about a year ago, when Eki and Kharis were the only ones there. Get this: two wind instruments, a cello, a keyboard, a drum set, a violin, a bass, a tambourine and a ukulele.

The full-set version of Silampukau, I think, beats the two-guitar Silampukau as their stories become a lot more pronounced, with emotions emphasized and music sharpened. None of the talents on stage — plenty of them to start with — choked Eki and Kharis’ gripping formula.

Beginning with the song “Bola Raya” (Universe Ball), Silampukau insisted that what listeners may have heard on their debut album Dosa, Kota & Kenangan (Sins, Cities and Memories) got a fuller treatment: abrupt key shifts in the middle of the song, rambling jams (like on the intro of the forlorn “Aku Duduk Menanti” (I Sit Here Waiting) and anthemic hurrahs.

Shying away from shedding their folk brand, Silampukau’s first act was adorned with pleasant exuberance.

It made sense that they brought out Muke Kapur from the band Orkes Madun Pengantar Minum Racun and singer Ayu for an untitled dangdut number. “We’re a folk band, so of course we’re playing a dangdut song,” said Kharis.

Muted affair: The pianist bids farewell to the audience.

A few mishaps aside (like bungled sounds and hurried playing at some points), the song was symbolic of Silampukau’s folk roots. Plus, it was fun as hell to hear the song; just imagine playing it.

Silampukau’s greatest strength isn’t that their music transcends the vernacular (they did after all just wrap up a concert in Jakarta, miles away from their hometown).

Their greatest strength lies in the underbelly, the metropolitan city, the complex governance of Surabaya. They either mention or imply Surabaya in almost all of their songs. That night was no different. “Si Pelanggan” (The Customer) — sung with such solemnity by Eki — “Bianglala” (Rainbow) and “Puan Kelana” (Travelling Miss) were all there.

Silampukau’s Surabaya comes from the mouths of people who regularly talk to them at warkops (roadside coffee shops), their friends and themselves. So it was hyperrealistic for anyone who has or hasn’t lived in Surabaya to hear the songs played on stage, and I bet everybody in the audience heard that as well. You know, the usual: They laughed, danced in their seats, hollered for encores, quipped jokes.

Anyway, the second act mellowed down the concert a little, as they ran with their friendliest songs: closer “Doa 1” (Prayer 1) that tells the story of failed musicians seeking contentment for themselves, the booze-dealer song “Sang Juragan” (The Proprietor) and the encore “Sementara Ini” (For the Time Being).

Throughout the concert, what was also so good that it deserves a paragraph of its own was, unsurprisingly, Eki and Kharis. Both of their vocals, whether in solos or duets, were steady and graceful.

Their singing has gotten considerably better as time has passed, especially Kharis whose vocals dip and vibrate on just the right notes. Getting more comfortable as they plough through, it’s always a pleasure to see them sing this handbook of poems about Surabaya.

Night of festivity: Ayu (center) and the band help Silampukau out during the show.

On a larger scale, Silampukau stands in a league of their own, perhaps previously unheard of since Iwan Fals and Frankie Sahilatua’s days.

It reminds you of music of the past, when folk was still synonymous with, well, folk. Bringing accessible music to the fold of independent music, I’d say Silampukau nails this trajectory quite well. The concert was a further reminder, instead of a confirmation.

And it was fun. Oh boy was it fun. Concert promoter Felix Dass, who delivered the opening speech, is really making good on his word to continue with his Bermain di Cikini series of concerts, previously graced by the duo AriReda.

Teater Kecil’s acoustics suited Silampukau’s music quite well, so it made for a fun evening.

“Aih puan kelana / kenapa musti kesana / Paris pun penuh marabahaya dan duka nestapa / seperti Su-ra-ba-ya,” (Ugh, traveling girl / why go there / even Paris is full of grave danger and tragic misfortune / just like Surabaya) Kharis sang in “Puan Kelana”.

Grave danger and tragic misfortune are part of everyone’s story. What makes the difference is who is telling the story. As they exited the stage, Silampukau left the audience on that note, as night fell over Jakarta.

— Photos courtesy of Yose Riandi/Bermain di Cikini