That night, “Papua Soundsplash” transformed into a wave of sound that shook Lake Sentani. ADProduction’s speakers blasted bassline vibrations that rattled both body and soul, pulling thousands of people into the bold eastern rhythms. From the very beginning, the atmosphere felt different: there was an aura of collective ritual, where music wasn’t just meant to be heard, but to be deeply felt together.

The stage opened with the mighty raggamuffin style of Asiam Rasmel. His sharp and articulate vocal flow immediately swept the crowd away, a kind of declaration that the night would be full of uncompromising energy. Next came Wone Roots, a reggae unit offering organic harmonies wrapped in a solid band groove. Their sound merged the feel of classic reggae with local accents, as if connecting Jamaica’s tradition with the pulse of Papua.

The following shift was more intimate yet still meaningful—Uncle Mario took the stage as a solemn soloist. His presence brought a reflective side, providing a momentary pause before the energy exploded again. He proved that reggae isn’t always about heavy beats, but also about depth of feeling and spirituality.

When Meyyom One stepped onto the stage, the crowd’s energy surged once more. As a high-powered soloist, he delivered an almost militant intensity—his booming vocals intertwined with the riddim, making the masses dance non-stop. Soon after, Kent Sky took over, seizing control of the speakers and dropping a curated selection of tracks from Dave Barasano, adding another layer of sonic texture to the night. This transition highlighted the dynamics of sound system culture—showing that a selector’s music choices can be just as crucial as a live artist’s performance.

As the hours rolled on, the special lineup—DSPxADP, Asiam Rasmel, Meyyom One, Uncle Mario, and Wone Roots—kept the atmosphere blazing with unrelenting energy. The later it got, the more united the crowd became, singing and swaying in unison, proving that sound system music is more than just entertainment; it’s a space for connection, brotherhood, and cultural celebration.

That night’s phenomenon could be read as a form of “cultural translation”: reggae, born in the Caribbean, was revived with a Papuan soul, giving birth to a new hybrid yet authentic flavor. From the vocal flows to the riddim selections, everything felt intertwined with the eastern context. Sentani wasn’t just a venue; it became a witness to a new chapter of Nusantara reggae—the echo of basslines and the roar of the crowd that night stood as proof that eastern reggae rises with full pride.