Rustic fantasy and futurism are unlikely bedfellows in the Singapore Repertory Theatre’s radical re-imagination of William Shakespeare’s comedy of errors, A Midsummer’s Night Dream, and who better than Mervin Wong to shepherd this dream sonically into fruition? Just as the setting of Athens is now transformed into an industrial behemoth stacked with towering edifices, Melvin has whipped up a dynamic, clubby soundtrack that’s a million miles away from the green fields of yesteryears. He weaves actors’ choice lines into disco-relic bangers that you could shake your boogie to, with some tracks pivoted on a limber synth riff. He can go big; just listen to tracks such as ‘Cupid’s Arrow’ and ‘Lovers Fight’ which are augmented by skittering beats that manifest the restlessness of emotions. Or he can do intimacy, such as in ‘Rock the Ground’ and the operatic kiss-off ‘Thisbe’s Lament’, where echoey synths glisten and glower in an undertow of desire and wish fulfilment.

Late Bloomer is the coming-out party for artist-producer Mervin Wong, who has, well, a rather intriguing trajectory in the last few years – first, going all high-concept with a stage moniker Planeswalker, and then shedding it decisively in favour of a back-to-the-roots approach.

It’s Johnny-come-lately coming slowly into his own: Whether Late Bloomer is self-referentiality or a manifesto for late-night immersion, this album proves Wong is one to watch, perpetually restless and evolving and trying out new threads.

This time, he’s paired up with writer-short film maker Sal as co-conspirator, ad who was an erstwhile partner from The emptybluesky Collective, an eclectic group of collaborative minds blurring the boundaries of disciplines and genres through synergy and integration. Sal’s spoken-word presence works as a main narrative thread, pulling disparate sonic elements together into clandestine confessions.

“I don’t have language for this conversation,” she opens ‘Gap’, then proceeds to rasp/rap over moody, fluvial synths which wash and erupt and burp. It’s less emollient-ambient but more menacing atmospherics as Sal ups the drama. The tension is further ratcheted up in ‘Plato (It’s You and Me Alone)’ and ‘Retriever’, lean, mean, surrealistic missives which lend credence to Wong’s characterisation of the album as a “bedroom space-opera.” You espy a filigree of lovely Orientalism here, or a douse of ersatz Celtic pipes there as this intergalactic odyssey commandeered by Wong into the farthest reaches of conscience. It’s a head-freak mesh-up as Sal’s wild-eyed pronouncements become increasingly manic: “I don’t know I got here. I don’t know where I’ll end.”

All of this gives way to ‘Convergence’, a gorgeous, come-down book-ender where no words are necessary, and Wong’s eloquent synths transport us to a new cinematic realm. It’s either very late, or early – either way, Wong shows us time, like identity, is what we make of it.

Fascinated by the Sanskrit word ‘Akasha’ (or ‘ether’), Mervin Wong creates sensitively layered soundscapes which respond to his sensory perceptions of his surroundings. This EP was originally presented as a live listening experience and borne out of a collaboration with multidisciplinary artists Joshua Tirados Suarez and Sarah Isabelle Tan who work with solid volumes and fluid fabrics.