Kediri. June 29, 2024.

OM Adella’s live performance always pulls a massive crowd.

Anticipating that, I arrived early. Just in time for soundcheck, despite living only ten minutes away from GOR Joyoboyo. “Follow me to backstage, mas,” said Mas Savara (road manager), the busiest person that day. He moved back and forth, making sure every detail was in place: schedules, crew, even down to the instruments.

That backstage pass allowed me to see their inner workings. On the left side of stage, I see Cak Nophie, their celebrated percussionist preparing his drums and kendang. In the world of dangdut koplo, a percussionist usually plays both—and Cak Nophie excels at them equally.

Meanwhile Mas Pendik, the flute player was standing in front of him. Just a few effects—delay and reverb—sat by his feet. “Simple setup, Mas,” he said with a grin. Aside from playing, he often shares vocal duties with Adella’s rising star, Difarina Indra.

Credits: Randy Levin Virgiawan

Founded in 2007, OM Adella is a rarity: a dangdut group that thrives both offline and online.

Offline, they command a solid fanbase, Adella Music Community (AMC), spread across cities, islands, and even countries. As I’ve noted, their concerts are always crowd-pullers. Always—come and see their concerts, you’ll know what I mean.

And it goes both ways. Digitally, you can check their YouTube channel, “Henny Adella”, one of the biggest channels in dangdut scene, with almost 5 million subscribers. As far as I know, they are one of few orkes melayu that seamlessly adapted to the streaming ecosystem. So much so, they managed to keep income flowing even during the pandemic.

“Alhamdulilah, we were prepared,” said Bunda Henny, the woman behind Adella’s success.

Personally speaking, I’ve heard OM Adella for a long time. Born and raised in East Java, I grew up with them alongside their contemporaries: OM Monata, OM Pallapa, OM Sagita, and more. I’ve witnessed how their music resonates: echoing from neighborhood speakers, played in countless spots, and sung by hundreds of people I meet in various places. Their music is part of my everyday landscape.

Of course, I’m not the only one.

Now, here I am. A dreamer lucky enough to know the very people behind Adella, demystifying them after all these years.

After the soundcheck, Mr. Savara brought me to see (now the late) Mr. Totok, Bunda Henny’s husband, whom everyone called “Abah.” Unlike Bunda and Mas Savara—both moving around the venue—Abah preferred to sit outside, usually by the parking lot, wearing a simple shirt and sandals with coffee in hand.

“Mas Randy, come here!” Abah said.

Some Adella fans were joining us. Hadi, one of them said to us, “I never missed their concert. Not in East Java.” I nodded. I smiled, seeing the spark on his eyes. It was the first time he met Abah. So, I could comprehend why he was in such mood. (He left, though, after a few minutes to “take a picture with Mbak Difa”).

Curious, I asked Abah why he wasn’t at the backstage.

“I never went to backstage, mas. I prefer here,” he said.

“But, have you ever?”

“Rarely,” he chuckled. “But few times I got chased away by security. They mistook me as fans.”

“Then?” I replied in awe.

He took another sip, “I just went back to the car. Slept.”

I burst out laughing.

The show was about to start and Bunda Henny called me to join them on stage. I stood on the left, right behind Mas Pendik.

“Adella… Adella… ADELLA!” the MC welcomed the band.

The show began with all the singers performing together. Then, one by one, take the spotlight, from Nurma Paejah, Cantika Nuswantoro, Difarina Indra, and others. For context, OM Adella doesn’t rely on a single lead vocalist. They rotate singers every two or three songs. In short, it’s the band (Orkes Melayu Adella) featuring various vocalists.

Bunda Henny stood on the right with a large whiteboard in hand, managing the flow and the performers. “It’s Bunda who decides who’s singing what,” mas Savara said to me. Her role is akin to show director.

The repertoire combined classic dangdut oldies with viral YouTube tracks. One of them was “Sekecewa Itu”, a song by Angga Candra that had been trending recently. As it turns out, YouTube streaming data is an essential factor in shaping the setlist. “It shows how people react to our songs,” Abah said to me.

In that one hour, I witnessed hundreds, almost a thousand of crowd singing and moving in unison. They knew every lyric. They screamed, danced, waved their hands in the air.

This, my friend, IS folk music.

The energy was overwhelming. So much that it caused a complete traffic halt around the venue. That was predictable, as I said. It stayed that way for at least three hours after the show ended.

The band jammed.

So did the street.

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P.S. This writing is dedicated to the loving memory of Hj. Totok S.R., the founder of Adella—arguably one of the few people who inspired me and left an everlasting mark on my life.

May these words carry the gratitude I never had the chance to fully express.