WONGKRATON

Space Walk was founded in 2017 by multi-instrumentalist Firdaus Juma’at. Writing and producing his own tunes in the comfort of his bedroom studio, Firdaus Juma’at finds inspiration flowing through his veins with influences from Tame Impala, Jimi Hendrix and The Strokes, among many others. Other influences that have also shaped him are Dumbo Gets Mad, Payung Teduh and P. Ramlee.

Where does your creative process begin — in emotion, rhythm, or narrative?
Sometimes my songs start with a feeling rather than a full narrative. I might sit with my guitar let a chord progression come out of an emotion I’m feeling – maybe the vibe of a lazy afternoon or the excitement of a new idea. Other times it’s a groove: I’ll hear a funky bass line or drum loop in my head (space-rock style) and I just jam on it. Space Walk’s music has always had that psychedelic, funky buzz, so a beat or rhythm can be the spark. Once the music is flowing, a melody or a story naturally follows.

Even if I start with a pure groove, an emotion usually finds its way in. My creative process is flexible: sometimes a single lyric or a sharp feeling will set the tone, and I build the rhythm and narrative around it. No matter what comes first, passion and perseverance carry it through.

How do genre and song choices become a reflection of your identity as an artist?
I’ve grown up in a multicultural Singapore and I’m proud of that diversity. I sing and write in both English and Malay, and that directly shows my identity. Some songs are funky indie-pop in English, others might be soulful Malay ballads – each choice reflects a different part of me. For instance, Space Walk often reinterprets classic Malay pop and folk songs in our own style. By doing that, I’m honoring my Malay heritage while also putting a modern indie-rock twist on it. Blending surf-rock guitars, lo-fi beats, and Malay melodies reflects who I am – a Singaporean dreaming big but staying rooted in my culture.

Genre is like my second passport. When I mix funk, psychedelic rock, or R&B into a song with Malay lyrics, it tells listeners I’m carrying both worlds inside me. A groovy track might echo my love for bands like Tame Impala and Jimi Hendrix, while a heartfelt ballad in Malay recalls my family and traditions. Ultimately, I see each genre as a palette and each language as a tool. Putting them together the way I do isn’t just experimentation – it’s me being authentically myself on record.

What does originality mean to you when creating music in a world full of influences?
To me, originality isn’t about being completely detached from everything that’s come before. It’s exactly the opposite: I take everything I love – from old Malay film music to modern hip-hop – and recombine it through my own perspective. I may start with a riff inspired by a 60’s guitar hero, add a moody synth line reminiscent of modern influences, and sing a hook in Malay that has never been sung that way before. The result is something uniquely mine.

Originality also comes from personal stories. Even if the chord progression or rhythm has echoes of another song I love, the melody I hum and the words I write usually come from my own life or imagination. Each time I write, I’m asking: What is my truth here? I take those diverse influences and filter them through that question. The answer is a song that’s original in its own right.

“Like music, every pair of jeans begins raw — shaped by rhythm, refined with soul, and worn into a story only you can play.”

Denim has always carried stories through its wear — how do you see music carrying stories in the same way?
Just like a pair of jeans softens and shows its journey through every fade and tear, a song picks up life’s marks each time it’s played or heard. Every gig, every listener adds a little story to my music. My own songs carry the stories of how they were born – for example, “Irama” is woven from the excitement and wonder of impending fatherhood. Every time I perform it, that same story shines through in the melody and maybe even grows a bit as I remember it.

And like denim gets patched or custom-stitched, music carries history too. I’ve performed reimagined Malay classics at concerts. Those old songs already had their own stories for decades – now Space Walk is stitching them into our show with a new vibe. The essence is the same, but it takes on new life. In my view, a song is never really “finished” the day it’s recorded. Over time it gains depth. Listeners bring their memories to it, fans connect their own experiences, and the song ages like denim, rich with the wear and tear of shared stories.

If your artistry could be captured in denim, what fit (straight / slim / baggy), texture (raw / faded / ripped) would it embody — and why?
If my music were a pair of jeans, I think it would be a relaxed straight cut in raw denim. Not too tight or flashy like skinny jeans, but also not super loose – something timeless. The relaxed straight fit says I pay attention to details and style. Raw denim feels right because it starts out pure and unwashed, ready to be broken in. That’s how my sound feels to me: authentic and untouched at first. Over time, those jeans would develop nice fading and maybe a small rip at the knee – just enough to show experience and personality.

I like the idea that as I continue to play and evolve, my “denim” will only look better with time. A rigid, clean denim is like my original recordings – strong and true to form. As it fades and softens, it becomes more comfortable and characterful, just like a song becomes more personal each time I sing it or someone listens on repeat. I wouldn’t choose baggy or overly ripped, because I aim for clarity and intention in my art. Instead, slim/raw reflects my mix of classic soul with a modern edge. It’s a pair that’s uniquely mine, just like my music.

What about WONGKRATON that resonates with you?
What really resonates with me about WONGKRATON is the way it blends heritage and individuality. Denim, like music, tells a story – it carries the marks of time, wear, and personality. WONGKRATON doesn’t just make jeans; they craft pieces that feel authentic, with attention to detail and quality that lasts. That’s exactly how I approach music. I respect tradition, but I also want to leave my own imprint, my own vibe.

I see a connection between my sound and WONGKRATON’s denim: both are timeless but evolving. A pair of jeans softens, fades, and molds to you over time; a song grows with every performance and every listener. There’s something very honest and organic about that process, and it’s inspiring. Wearing WONGKRATON feels like carrying a story on your body, just like performing my songs carries a story for the audience. It’s that blend of craftsmanship, culture, and individuality that really speaks to me.