Dialled In Festival: A Festival by South Asians, for Everyone
- Bann Irbash
- 2 hours ago
- 4 min read
Responding to a lack of South Asians represented in creative industries, Dialled In advocates for the opposite. Through festivals and events, a record label (Dialled In Records), and a not-for-profit (Dialled Industry), alternative South Asian music and culture is given the space to be celebrated and invested in. On the 30th of May, amidst the infamous heatwave, I was lucky enough to attend the fifth-anniversary edition of Dialled In’s festival, where an array of South Asian creatives performed in some of the most loved venues across Dalston.
Though I was disappointed to miss the short films playing earlier in the day, I made it to the Rio Cinema (one of my favourite cinemas in London, with its iconic marquee and balcony seating) just in time for the comedians. The comedy was hosted by Cowboy Complex, who was instantly recognisable for her short-form content poking fun at the typical East London creative (very topical for the day). It was unfortunate that Cowboy Complex’s light-hearted relatability was harshly followed by the first comedian of the day, NJ Patel, who made distasteful jokes about famines in Sudan that were met with silence. I also felt uncomfortable hearing jokes that compared going down on a woman to warm sushi, though these received a spattering of laughter from the audience. I deeply respect the art of comedy and the controversy and confidence it demands, however, after watching Kiran Saggu’s and Sid Singh’s sets, who were both able to humour the audience with political jokes, it reaffirmed to me that comedy does not have to be dark and inappropriate in order to be funny. The stark difference between Patel’s set versus Saggu’s and Singh’s sets was that Patel joked at the expense of others – she acknowledged that Sudan was “war-torn” and questioned how women were intimate while saying it “[wasn’t] the life for [her]”. In comparison, Saggu and Singh made jokes at the expense of themselves, touching on racism, heritage, and dating in ways that felt like lived experiences but still pushed the boat out enough to make people laugh. While I acknowledge that a sense of humour is subjective and Patel’s set may thrive elsewhere, it felt out of place at a festival that specifically values cultural integrity and respect.
After the comedy at the Rio Cinema, I walked to the Total Refreshment Centre, which was hosting vinyl listening sessions. I made it in time to see Naya Beat, who are a record label that I had personally never heard of before, but that I very quickly respected after learning that they honour South Asian music from the ‘70s-’90s by reissuing records that were overlooked at the time. Walking into the venue itself felt like entering somebody’s home. The quaint ‘bar’ was just a table covered in hot pink fabric, the windowsills were scattered with potted plants and books, and the DJ decks stood behind a Persian-style rug. That safe, welcoming feeling extended to the decoration, with a Palestinian flag and a poster for ‘Art Without Borders’ hung on the wall behind me. Naya Beat’s ambient records were spinning in the background whilst many stood and chatted, and the atmosphere was mellow and friendly. Unfortunately for me, I was alone, and this is where I began to feel the effects of the heatwave. I am incredibly grateful that a woman working noticed how I felt and asked if I was okay. When I was struggling to reply, she took me to the back and kindly gave me a seat, a drink, and offered me chocolate. She even took the time to fan me, which was deeply appreciated. I find it touching that the inclusivity the venue promoted was not shallow, and I felt truly safe and cared for. By the time I felt better, which was around twenty minutes later, the room had filled up. The music Naya Beats was playing was livelier and people were dancing. As I left, I overheard a man turn to his friend and excitedly share his surprise: “It’s actually South Asian music. I thought it would be DJs who happened to be South Asian, but they actually play South Asian music.” Even with heat exhaustion, I felt that my time at the Total Refreshment Centre encompassed what Dialled In is all about: protecting and valuing community and meaningfully uplifting South Asian creativity.
As it approached the evening, Kingsland Road began to teem with people. The Marquee Moon was practically bursting, and people were spilling out of The Divine: drinking, chatting, and laughing. I queued outside EartH for ten minutes before being let into the Theatre upstairs, where I watched Gayathri Krishnan gracefully take the stage. I listened to her share that she is from California - a testament to Dialled In’s global impact. Her performance was more stripped-back, with only one guitarist accompanying her on stage, highlighting her silky voice and lyrics about self-love and acceptance. In the EartH Hall downstairs, I catch Malix: a DJ duo made up of two unbelievably cool sisters. Everyone dances under pink light as they fuse global tech, house, and funk, and I leave on a high note.
Dialled In festival is only going to grow - there is a real love for it, evidenced in all the joy I witnessed on the day. It is exciting spending the day and night discovering new South Asian creatives or supporting ones you know and love, as well as being a safe space. I admire Dialled In’s values and the intentionality that is behind everything they do. South Asians are not stereotyped or subjected to tokenism, and the vastness of South Asian creativity is celebrated. I hope to come back for the sixth edition next year and deepen my appreciation for South Asian creativity - hopefully without heat exhaustion.
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