On the heels of the glittering stage musical How to Be a Rock Star celebrating their 30th anniversary, Wu Bai & China Blue get back to basics on 純白的起點 (Pure White Starting Point). Created by Wu Chun-lin and his indomitable backing band largely during the uncertain days of the pandemic, the album is suffused with the promise of new beginnings. “I can say with certainty that this is a starting point,” Wu tells Apple Music. “Not just for you or me—a starting point for the whole world.” After explorations into dance beats—trance and techno on 2005’s 雙面人 (Two-Faced Man), Afrobeat on 2016’s 釘子花 (Ding Zi Hua) and a slew of EDM remixes—this new starting point marks a return to the band’s late-’90s fundamentals and uses synchronous recording to replicate the serendipitous energy of their live performances. “It’s not a deliberate return to roots music,” Wu explains. “It’s just that aside from us, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard a clear ‘band sound’ in popular music.” The four-piece bring a chugging electric guitar energy to classical Nanguan folk modes on “怎樣歌” (“How to Sing”) and incorporate the rugged rhythm of Nakasi bar music on “赴湯蹈火” (“Face Fire”). And Wu applies his inimitable rock-star stamp to “甜美的繩索” (“Sweet Rope”), a composition originally recorded by Nana Lee in 2016 as an acoustic-driven indie-pop ballad. “I was bold with the guitars this time,” he says. “I set aside my usual phrasings, techniques and scales and relied on intuition to do something new, something I had never heard before.” “重生” (“Reborn”), a 2020 electronic collaboration with DJ Mykal reinvented here as a majestic piece of space rock, puts Wu’s message of rebirth and renewal front and centre. He states, “On this album, with songs like ‘純白的起點’, ‘重生’ and ‘不要放棄’ (‘Don’t Give Up’), I hope—no, not hope, because with hope there’s disappointment. Here, it’s more of a do-over. Give it another go, starting now.” As a musician and songwriter, Wu is clear about the positive effect he wants to have on his listeners. “I feel more and more that when people listen to your work, it should be helpful to them. It shouldn’t drag them down,” he says. “Otherwise you’re wasting your talent.” Spoken lyrics over instrumental backing on album opener “天使” (“Angel”) are a stylistic hallmark that also turns up on “嫦娥” (“Chang’e”)—and extends back to 2001’s “Shooting Star” and the outro of 1994’s “Wanderer’s Love Song”. “I’m a fan of voice-overs,” he says. “Like in films, when there’s simple background music and then the voice-over begins. Sometimes when Da Mao plays a little something on the keyboard, I feel like a few lines would work well over it.” Despite the technique’s poetic feel, Wu is quick to deny poetic pretensions. “There’s rhyme and rhythm in any language that feels satisfying when spoken,” he explains. “But should we call that poetry? I don’t see it that way. I wouldn’t say I’m writing poetry—I’m just speaking.” Whether speaking or singing, he’s always conscious of the “gaps” in his lyrics that allow listeners to fill in their own experiences. “That’s space for imagination,” he says. No Wu Bai & China Blue album would be complete without the signature romantic ballads that are perennial karaoke favourites. Here the melancholy charm of love is captured in tender tracks like “妳是我的完美” (“You Are My Perfection”), “甜美的繩索” and “晴天雨天” (“Sunny Day, Rainy Day”)—where Wu trades lines with Tanya Chua in a depiction of the push and pull between inner and outer selves. His image of love is imperfect and tinged with regret. “Regret is a source of charm,” he says, adding that sad love songs arise from a moment of realisation: “Oh! I get it! Love is pain!” The album uses Spatial Audio technology to create the feeling of listening to the band perform live. Hearing his 1994 blues-rock ballad “Wanderer’s Love Song” in Dolby Atmos was an ear-opening experience for Wu. “It was amazing!” he says. “I was incredibly excited—I never realised you could listen to music like that.” While the emotional content of his love ballads may have a forceful immediacy even without surround sound, on harder tracks he takes full advantage of the possibilities of an immersive listening experience, recommending “嫦娥” in particular. “On ‘嫦娥’, the guitar audio revolves—the intro begins like a dark cloud in front of you moving to the right, and around the back of your head,” he says. “And on the solo at the end, it soars away again.”