Jimi Hendrix famously said: “If there is something to be changed in this world, then it can only happen through music.” But after enduring a million celebrity singfests for charitable self-gratification, while the cappuccino furrower from Ethiopia seems to have seen little more than several surplus compilation discs and the traumatic memory of impromptu pop choirs singing butchered ballads.

Given the current climate, it surprised me that so many people turned up to see an evening of protest music from Timor-Leste. Or that they felt confident enough to venture out the door without fear of getting bashed up by ethnic minorities wanting to beat up other more newly-arrived ethnic minorities. Nevertheless, over 300 brave souls had gathered in the somewhat formal setting of the Fairfax Studio – close to a full house.

Dubbed – �East Timor’s Bob Dylan,’ Ego Lemos is the real deal. First receiving his break in 1997 with controversial Timorese band Cinco do Oriente, his link to the Timorese struggle is enduring.

The ARIA-award winner, on vocals, guitar and harmonica, was joined by a four-piece acoustic band, involving two guitars, percussion and a multi-instrumentalist on violin, mandolin and piccolo.

The band were tight as they calmly breezed their way through lush guitar arrangements and four-part vocal harmonies, with a neo-Nashville lilt and touches of bluegrass. Lemos’ early Dylan influence is strong, and this is tempered with dashes of Portugese fado and indigenous rhythms.

Lemos is a realist songwriter. His songs paint a picture of ordinary life under extraordinary circumstances, with a central, timeless theme of human spirit overcoming seemingly insurmountable adversity. Tracks like Water, a drought song which many Aussie farmers could identify with, Farmers, depicting the daily grind of subsistence farming, Trees, an environmental song, all allow the lives and aspirations of ordinary Timorese to shine through the usual precipitation of police actions and unstable government which cloud our view of the country. This is real folk.

The songs are almost entirely sung in Tetun, the national language of Timor-Leste, but their musicality transcends any language barrier. Lemos introduced each song with a synopsis of its contents, but his smooth baritone voice, finished with a slightly raspy, marbled texture, more than transmitted the emotion of each song. During the ballad Peace in East Timor, where he hit his upper register for the only time, the raw power of his voice was heartfelt, convincing and aurally absorbing.

Perhaps the only complaint of Lemos’ set was its lack of musical diversity. Lemos is very good at creating ballads, but unfortunately that was all we heard, bar a couple of mildly uptempo numbers. As Miles Davis once said: “You know why I quit playing ballads? Cause I love playing ballads.” Lemos could well take his advice.

The Fairfax Studio ended up being a fine choice for the concert, because its good acoustics and intimate setting were ideal for Lemos. His quiet, conversational rapport with the audience gave us a window into Lemos as a person – a warm, affable character, with an innocent sense of humour.

The concert was a refreshing experience. Suddenly I’d been transported to another time, when folk musicians like Woodie Gutherie and Pete Seegar were using their calm crooning to emit messages of hope and real change – and people responded. The political and social change which music has brought about in the world didn’t come from carefully stage-managed A&R creations, cobbled together with some political spin and good PR, it came from ordinary people. People taking on the world, armed with nothing but guitars and the desires of others just like them.

And like that time, to see such change in motion you just had to look around you. The world of ethnic riots and race-based bashing seemed a million miles away. Musicians from many different backgrounds, black and white, on stage together making inspiring music. People sang, danced and several even spontaneously joined the performers on stage without incident. And there wasn’t a security guard in sight.

The music of the evening was a virtual soundtrack of the Timorese struggle. Aside from the fact Lemos’ hit Balibo was featured on the feature film of the same name, he was joined by support acts The Dili All Stars and community choir The Sweet Monas, both of whom made key contributions to the Timor solidarity effort. The Dili All Stars went as far as to smuggle tapes of their music into Timor during its most volatile period, ensuring they hold a special place in Timorese hearts. The bright future of the world’s newest nation was represented by capable young opera soprano Jessica Maliana, whose success would surely make her a national treasure.

So many social problems are caused by a clash of cultures, a symptom of a lack of understanding between peoples. Music has proven itself to be one of the great mediums to bridge this gap, to build enduring relationships between former enemies, and to initiate the fight against those who resist positive change. Tonight was more proof of that.

Maybe Jimi was right after all.