Some shows are loud. Some are chaotic. But every once in a while, a night comes along where everything feels intentional, every transition, every beam of light, every symbolic gift handed to invitees, every detail of scenography sharpened with purpose. Golden Bird’s was packed to the rafters. This was DIY, but elevated: no delays, no technical scrambles, changeovers so smooth they felt choreographed, and sound so consistently pro you’d think the room was built for it.
From the moment the collective opened the doors, it felt like walking into an experience, one built with love, labour, and unmistakable pride.
Opening Rituals: The Collective Crew
The night began with a collective band made up of a rotating cast of the collective’s performers, showcasing material straight from his studio vault. The set didn’t start perfectly, some shaky vocals, a bit of nervous energy, the kind of jitters that cling to the first act of the night.
But within a few minutes, everything was locked in. Ambient guitar textures layered over tight, heartbeat-steady rhythms and a tasteful spread of samples. What began as tentative slowly transformed into something assured, controlled, and quietly powerful. A perfect mood-setter for a long, multi-genre night.
Fragile Beginnings, Beautiful Mistakes: Nghima Steps Into the Light
Next came Nghima, debuting his solo work in front of a crowd that filled the room almost to capacity. Performing alone is always brutal, no drummer to hide behind, no bandmates to lean on, just you, a guitar, and the weight of a hundred eyes.
He stumbled early: forgotten lyrics, shaky hands, small missteps. But the crowd didn’t pull away. They leaned in. Because underneath the nerves was a voice with a stunning, warm tone, and chords soaked in melancholy.
What could have been a breakdown instead became a breakthrough, a reminder that vulnerability often lands deeper than perfection.
Shadow & Sky: Toanraw Reimagined With a Full Band
The next transition happened so seamlessly that the room barely noticed crews moving in the shadows. Suddenly, the stage belonged to Toanraw, backed by a full band, and the atmosphere shifted yet again. Darkwave pulses intertwined with post-rock crescendos, creating a slow-burning tension that kept blooming into catharsis.
Layers of synth, glassy guitars, and bursts of dreampop gave the set its colour, but the real magic was the dynamic flow, rising, falling, exploding, and withdrawing. A performance that invited the audience to feel rather than just watch.
A Sudden U-Turn: Hau Blows the Room Open
Hau stormed in and ripped the mood wide open. Peaceful ambience evaporated, replaced with raw, bouncing electricity. The audience responded instantly, shouting lyrics, jumping as one mass, riding the beat like a wave.
Mid-set, the producer swapped the sample/beat base for a full band, and the room erupted. Suddenly, it felt like the 90s again: sweaty, joyful, loud, chaotic in the best possible way. A street-party spirit in a tiny room.
Fire & Precision: irihi in a New Form
The energy stayed high as irihi took over, but with a twist. Instead of their usual gentle ascent, they opened with an unexpectedly heavier version of themselves. Guitarist Lok (who, by the way, backed almost every single act of the night on his guitar) unleashed raw screams, catching the crowd off guard and instantly raising the temperature.
Then, like a magician snapping back to form, the band slid into their signature math-rock intricacy: clean vocals, twisting riffs, rhythmic puzzles that still somehow felt emotional. It was the most adventurous set they’ve played in months, and the audience felt it.
Closing Inferno: Noschool Production Takes the Night Home
Finally, Noschool Production stepped in as the last torchbearer. A blend of moody rap, high-speed beats, and relentless delivery that refused to slow down. Halfway through the set Patu, the sound engineer and one of the pillars of From Da Slum, abandoned the desk, grabbed a mic, and exploded onto the stage. Ben joined him, turning the closer into a family affair, unfiltered and full of heart. It was the kind of finale only a tight-knit collective can pull off: not polished, not planned, but powerful.
A Collective Victory
When the lights finally dimmed, the room didn’t feel tired. It felt grateful. Golden Bird’s was full, but the energy felt even fuller. Every performer, organizer, and friend from the collective contributed to a night that was seamless from start to finish. From the symbolic gifts to the flawless sound engineering, from the scenography to the effortless transitions, this was DIY at its absolute peak.
