It is a hot, muggy night in People's Park, central Yangon.
As the first wail of guitars slices the heavy air, disturbing the mosquitoes, a roar goes up.
"This is the first ever Yangon Rock Festival!" cries a group in unison and in English. "We are very excited!"
Myanmar used to be another North Korea: cut off from the world for decades by a secretive and oppressive military regime.
The huge open air gig is a sign of how much things have changed since 2011 when military rule ended.
There are still major problems across the country, including ethnic conflict, persecution of minorities and shocking levels of poverty.
But many people hope there is more change to come.
Myanmar is preparing for a landmark election this weekend, on 8 November.
It will be the first openly contested vote since 1990. If the vote is free and fair, peace icon Aung San Suu Kyi and her political party are expected to triumph.
Rockers and metal heads at the festival spoke to Newsbeat about their hopes for the election and the future.
Su is 23 and arrives with her friends, taking pictures on their phones and laughing.
"I like this music because the rhythm of it is very strong," she says. "It's like I can hear freedom in this music."
But Su also says that freedom still only goes so far in Myanmar.
She points out the recent case of two activists who were arrested for anti-military posts on Facebook, intended as jokes.
"Compared to five years ago, we have a little bit of freedom. But people are still arrested for Facebook posts. That's not that free, is it?" she says.
Along with everyone else at the festival, Su responds with surprise when asked if she is planning to vote: "Of course!"
Phyo Nwe Soe, who is standing outside the gates with her husband in a Ramones T-shirt, agrees.
"This is a changing time for us. Of course we will vote," she says, smiling.
And in this festival at least, full of 20-something, well-off urbanites, there's only one name on everyone's lips: Aung San Suu Kyi's party, the National League for Democracy (NLD).
"It must be the NLD. It's about what they can do for us. It's a chance to change," Phyo Nwe Soe says, while her husband Chan Myae Ehu nods.
Despite wearing their shirt he doesn't know The Ramones' music, but says he will look them up online when he gets in.
A couple of punks standing next to them smile and pull rock signs as I pass, but don't want to talk.
In a way, it is surprising how many do. Even five years ago, it was risky to talk openly about politics, and saying the wrong thing with the wrong person listening could have landed you in jail.
Singing about it was banned and acts had to submit their lyrics to the censorship board before releasing an album.
"It's different now. They can write a song with no limits, and say what is in their head, and what is in your head," says Htet Au Lin, 22. "It is original, and I like the drums."
Others are still cautious. When I ask Su who she is going to vote for, she is coy.
"It's a secret!" she says. Then she laughs and pushes my arm gently. "But I think you can guess."
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