Wu Cloud

Pulsa Rimba

Wu Cloud effectively conveys what it feels like to be secluded in a tropical paradise with an album that doesn’t really have any highs or lows, but that’s exactly the point; it is a way out of all the noise and racket from everyday life. Its calmness can be taken as minimalistic therapy.

Here’s the routine I have carved for myself to write reviews: I always start with something “humorous” and seemingly off-topic to ease the transition into talking about the album. Now I can’t walk away from this method as much as I’m dying to take a break. Someone who did manage to take a break is Wu Cloud, a Melbourne producer who, at one point during the year, decided to take a much needed soul-searching journey that resulted in him flying away from the comfort of his home only to land in the depths of Sumatra. Here’s a fun fact: Sumatra is home to the Corpse Lily (Rafflesia arnoldii), which is a giant, odd looking, putrid-smelling flower that a lot of us got to know thanks to Pokémon, since it was the inspiration for Vileplume’s design. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that fun of a fact.

It was through its vast landscapes filled with exuberant flora, fauna and interactions with the locals, that Cloud was able to find the inspiration he needed for his debut album. Produced with an extremely austere setup, Pulsa Rimba effectively conveys what it feels like to be secluded in a tropical paradise. On a very basic level, Pulsa Rimba is a collection of field recordings with a slight pulse driving them. It is an album that doesn’t really have any highs or lows, but that’s exactly the point; it’s a way out of all the noise and racket from everyday life. Its calmness can be taken as minimalistic therapy.

In a way, these elements feel so disconnected from each other -there are points in which everything feels out of synch- but somehow they work well together. The recordings are so vivid that you can really feel all the life that these locations hold in their bosom and, along with the ample -yet discrete- textures created by Wu, it really helps sell the album’s retreat-like quality. Some of the beats are to be subliminally felt more than heard and that’s another aspect that works in Pulsa’s favor: its discreteness is so magnetic that it invites you to immerse yourself in this hybrid world the composer has created.

“Weh Island” is the beautiful opening statement in which Cloud gracefully sets the stage for what’s to come. The programmed drums fade in and out but never overstep their presence; distant chirping can be heard piercing through a dense breeze, and a warbling synth texture struggles to stay in place throughout the track. Even though this album had all the potential to be a cheesy tropical-themed effort, Cloud carefully handles the samples and the overall tropical flavor so not to make it fall over the edge of gimmickness. He even hints at a sense of alienation and nostalgia in the track “Sumur Tiga”, in which incomprehensible voices highlight the feeling of being in a place where you cannot fully understand everyone else around you; this bit a nuance shows us that even in paradise one may feel lost every no and then.

As mentioned earlier, Pulsa Rimba doesn’t have any highs or lows, and even if that was the intention, the album does suffer a bit from its lack of emotional fluctuation. Just as meditation leads to a blank state of mind, a perpetual state of relaxation can numb the body, leading you to wish for something to jolt you back into existence, and this insistent sense of detachment makes the album turn into background music after a few listens, even if upon first inspection it is an engaging experience; when Pulsa grabs your attention, it really doesn’t let go. It is almost guaranteed that listener will find comfort within the disjointed cadenced Cloud provides.

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