SHU LEE BLENDS GENRES AND IDENTITIES ON EXPERIMENTAL NEW ALBUM FUSION OF COLORS
Shu Lee isn’t afraid to take chances, and his new album Fusion of Colors proves it from the very first note. Born in Malaysia and raised in Australia, Lee channels that cross-cultural identity into a project that moves fluidly between languages, genres, and moods. Along the way, he also continues to pioneer the emerging music genre and philosophy he calls MFDM (Multifaceted DIY Music). This boundary-pushing approach thrives on experimentation and self-made authenticity.
It’s an album that feels exploratory without losing its emotional core, shifting from lo-fi intimacy to pulsing dance beats, from playful sketches to weighty reflections. Each track opens a different doorway, and together they form a picture that’s as unpredictable as it is personal. Fusion of Colors isn’t a record you just put on in the background; it’s one you experience, layer by layer, as Lee pulls you through his world. Let’s dive in:
“I Am A Pyx” opens Shu Lee’s album Fusion Of Colors, and from the first notes, it immediately channels the ghostly minimalism of The xx. The track is slow and haunting, draped in lo-fi textures that feel raw and intimate, like it was recorded in a dimly lit bedroom at 3 a.m. The bass and drums lock into a steady pulse, grounding the song while letting the space around it breathe. What makes it captivating is the mood — hovering somewhere between dark, ominous, and a little unsettling, as if the song is daring you to lean in closer. It doesn’t try to follow a conventional structure; instead, it leans into its experimental edge, letting atmosphere and tension drive the momentum. As an opening statement, “I Am A Pyx” feels like a doorway into another world. If the rest of Fusion Of Colors follows this path, listeners are in for a trip through soundscapes that blur the line between beauty and unease.
“Swagatam Namaste” takes a sharp turn from the previous track, opening with a pulsing, dance-ready beat while holding onto the darker emotional tones that run through Fusion Of Colors. The result is a track that makes you want to move but keeps a shadow hanging over every step. Lee’s lyric, “We forget the souls behind the names. But a simple word, just a breath away, can break the walls and heal the pain,” cuts to the heart of the song. It’s a reminder of empathy and connection, delivered over a beat that balances joy and unease. In blending a club groove with weighty emotions, Shu Lee creates a track that’s as thought-provoking as it is danceable.
“Magpie On The Roof” comes in as the album’s third track, with instrumentals that feel sparse and almost demo-like, as if capturing an early sketch of the song. But what it lacks in polish, it makes up for in heart. Shu Lee’s vocals are vivid and expressive, painting imagery that lingers even when the production feels underdeveloped. The passion is unmistakable, though you can’t help but imagine how powerful this track could be with a fuller arrangement behind it.
“Frolicking” lands as the fourth track on the album, and its title alone brings a bit of lighthearted humor. Musically, though, it’s a slow, downtempo piece that leaves a lasting impression. The track carries the kind of hazy looseness that feels like it was recorded in the early hours of the morning after a long night out. That raw, unpolished quality isn’t a drawback. It’s part of its charm. Imperfect yet intimate, “Frolicking” captures a mood that’s both understated and quietly enjoyable.
“Dovijenya” opens with a high-pitched falsetto that feels almost comedic, but as it unfolds, it reveals some intriguing textures. The track doesn’t develop much, yet its use of non-English lyrics adds an unexpected and memorable twist.
“YT Democracy” kicks off with the earthy pulse of hand drums—congas or maybe bongos—setting a rhythm that immediately grabs attention. The track carries a raw power, driven not just by its beat but by the fiery intensity of its vocal delivery. Every line feels urgent, packed with energy and conviction, making it one of the album’s standout moments.
“Love Song to Lebanon” unfolds around a delicate guitar melody that immediately pulls the listener in. Shu Lee’s vocals drift in gently, pairing seamlessly with the instrumentation to create a track that feels both somber and poignant. The simplicity of the arrangement allows the emotion to shine through, making the song’s dedication clear even without overstatement. As its title suggests, this is a heartfelt love letter to Lebanon: intimate, mournful, and profoundly moving.
“Sugarcane Fix” shows Shu Lee cutting loose with a playful beatbox-driven track. After a cheeky false start, it drops into lo-fi, hip-hop-leaning rhythms that feel fresh and fun, highlighting his versatility and willingness to experiment.
“We Should Get Married, But We Can’t Afford It” blends foreign-language vocals with minimal yet effective instrumentation. The piano shines brightest, giving the track a haunting, memorable vibe.
“Mindlessly” opens with ringing phones and helicopter noise before sliding into a ‘90s-style hip-hop groove. Cinematic and trippy, it’s a track that takes your high even higher.
“Ying and Yang” unfolds with a gentle blend of programmed drums and piano, setting a soft, reflective tone that carries through the entire track. The mood is bittersweet, sad and slow, yet tender and affectionate. Lyrics like “I need you and you need me too” suggest a love that still exists but perhaps isn’t as strong as it once was, giving the song an undercurrent of longing. Musically, it’s well-crafted and emotive, though a more prominent bass line could have added even greater depth.
“Kampung Halaman” opens with vocals in a foreign language and quickly unfolds into an intriguing sonic journey. Carried mostly by voice and sparse percussion, the track feels intimate and deeply personal, though its minimalism leaves you wishing for a bit more weight in the arrangement to unlock its full potential. What makes it remarkable, however, is the linguistic tapestry Lee threads together. The song moves through five languages—Malay, Tamil, Mandarin Chinese, English, and Spanish, reflecting the complexity of his identity. Born in Malaysia but raised in Australia, Lee describes himself as more Australian in outlook, though his cultural heritage is an intricate fusion of Malaysian, Chinese, and Australian roots. That blend of backgrounds runs through “Kampung Halaman,” making it not just a song but a reflection of belonging, distance, and the in-between spaces of identity.
“Bada Buru” opens with sharp, drumline-inspired percussion before unfolding into one of the most distinctive tracks on the record. Like the previous song, Lee chooses to work outside of English, but here the approach is deeply personal. The track blends the Dharug language—spoken by the Indigenous people of Western Sydney—with Mandarin Chinese, reflecting Lee’s own hybrid identity. “Dharug is one of the Indigenous Australian languages belonging to Western Sydney, where I’m based,” Lee explains. “And Chinese symbolizes my ethnic heritage. So I decided to fuse them together in a song to express my hybrid identity.” The result is not just moving but groundbreaking: to Lee’s knowledge, “Bada Buru” is the first officially released song to intertwine both Dharug and Mandarin, a combination that feels as unprecedented as it is powerful.
With Fusion of Colors, Shu Lee has pulled together something that feels less like a polished concept record and more like a living, breathing experiment. From the ghostly haze of “I Am A Pyx” to the cultural collision of “Bada Buru”, the album moves through moods and languages like a restless traveler, never settling in one place for too long.
Some songs are raw sketches, others feel fully fleshed out, but that’s part of the charm. It’s messy in spots, brilliant in others, and always personal. Lee isn’t just showing off his range — he’s showing us who he is, with all the contradictions and layers that come with being caught between cultures and sounds.
By the end, Fusion of Colors feels exactly like its title promises: a mix of tones, identities, and emotions that somehow come together into something bigger than the sum of its parts. It’s an album that might challenge you, but it sticks with you long after it’s over. And with this project, Lee further cements himself as the pioneer of MFDM (Multifaceted DIY Music), an emerging genre and philosophy that embraces experimentation, independence, and authenticity.