Mohd Jayzuan documents his career like no one else in the scene. He has over ten published books and multiple zines, narrating his whirlwind life as an indie rocker — more specifically, one from Ipoh. Among his regular descriptions completing his narratives is his slacker approach to life. He bleeds slacker into his Ipoh town, his romantic life and also into his music production, using whatever available tools around him to make an album. He sings like he doesn’t care about technicalities, his clumsy vocals only wants to yearn for romance. What Jayzuan may call slacker, kids these days might see as the nonchalant god.

But don’t get him wrong — he takes music very seriously. What he cares so little about is chiselling his craft to perfection, at least to a standard set by the mainstream. These descriptions: Slacker. Lo-fi. Rabak. It’s all part of the identity he’s built around his work. You can’t talk about Jayzuan without these things. He wouldn’t talk about himself without them either.

That’s why it’s breaking news to notice these terms no longer became glossy trophies or small, chained accessories in his alter ego Joni Mustaf’s latest EP, langlang. He presents lo-fi as an awakened sound instead of a shallow ethos or a forefront justification of half-assed work. It’s a culmination of what he has long championed for without making a big deal out of it. It’s still lo-fi, slacker, rabak, and in some ways still romantic — without needing to announce itself.

It took Jayzuan less than seven months to complete the EP, inviting collaborators Mohd Hazriq of Harmacy, Haziq Hamsa of Oddweek, Man Chello, Sang Nabil Utama and Piko of Marionexxes on board to sing along, crash instruments and make chaos. EP opener “sondak” is an ostentatious yet glorious take on the melodies of the Malay folk song “Ikan Kekek Mak Iloi Iloi” — all of them singsong and clap while Jayzuan takes the lead with the childish sneer of a little boy ridiculing the doldrums of life: “Siapa sakit kena ejek / Siapa sakit kena ejek.” There’s a communal spirit gushing in waves all over, like stumbling upon a group of friends making noise in the streets using whatever trash they find on the ground as instruments. You watch and wait for the magic to happen. When it ends, the magic itself lies in a group of friends making music together. 

A copious portion of langlang settles for noise and nonsense that ties together with purpose. “nyelap sador” the shortest track, for instance, has nothing but vomits of nonsense yelped out — on Bandcamp, the lyrics were written as “dadadadadadadadadada / Idkfsklenvrcijiruueirruirure,” and Mohd Hazriq’s drums demand the most attention, pounding to stretch the limits of its berserkness. But the beauty of langlang still lies in the length of chaos Jayzuan aims for — somewhat tame and cordial, unlike his avant-garde works with Projek Rabak, a collective he founded to show his multi disciplines. His 2019 street performance called Orkestra Lorong, one of the earliest appearances of Joni Mustaf, had him yelling claptrap about seni in the streets of Ipoh, jumping over Meor Hailree, smashing things around and drawing passersby who watched in horror and confusion — rarely amusement. It’s cool and all that but if Jayzuan circulates langlang around the similar breath as that performance then this EP is more composed in the sense that it doesn’t move without direction. Every motion ties together to the memory before, each decision complements previous records to improve its heights. “ilam ilam” is a clear nod to his ‘90s indie rock hero and hopeless romantic peer Sebadoh, moulding learnings of Free Love in a more tenacious way. Then there’s the 7-minute long track “pukah” — where his collaborators echo a reality check for an aging indie rocker: “Jiwang karat dulu / Gering kemudian.” Before the brash outro comes, Jayzuan recites prayers by Prophet Musa to be granted rezeki. “Rabbi inni lima anzalta / Ilayya min khairin faqiir,” he prays before the thunderous drone as meditation blasting. Translation: “My Lord, I am in need of whatever good / You have sent down to me.”

Interestingly, the EP ends with him returning to form. “lingsir” is a slow ballad that traps itself in its own expectations of romance. Its characteristics make it apt for the sixth track of his 2021 EP Filokalis, or even a sister to his 2023 single “Sanglirsari”. It’s more subdued when lined up with the rest of the tracks, suddenly the lawlessness of langlang ends with a heavy, melancholic closure. Perhaps langlang is an experiment in itself — not to reintroduce Jayzuan but merely an accidental amalgamation of his other works: the morbid, strangely acoustic romanticism in Filokalis; the haywired experimentation with the touch of Kamal Sabran and the breath of Nia Atasha in Qurfusha; the slacker indie rock soul spat out in Free Love’s Feed Us With Yr Love; or even the Kamar Seni–recorded Pop n’ Roll. In a way, langlang sees Jayzuan finally surrendering to the noise without being entrapped by its ethos. Whether this was a happy accident or the product of a wiser, it’s certain that Jayzuan, at his current age, is someone we’ll have to keep watching.