The record’s lore feels almost too good to be true: In the early-’80s, a dweeby Dutch guy travels to southeast Asia, comes home enamored with the region’s music, blends its dreamy percussion into his own early electronic music, which he then releases on obscure cassettes. Thirty years later, these cassettes are dredged out of obscurity, and they now sound oddly prescient. Tropisch Verlangen, the title of a compilation made of music from those tapes, literally translates as “Tropical Desire.” Is the desire his, for the tropics? Or is it the desire of the tropics, perhaps to be heard? Some of each, probably. But the album’s small-scale experimentation is more love than lust. You can feel his young mind playing around excitedly, and while the results are never huge breakthroughs for music, the earnestness of the compositions is palpable throughout.

The cover of Tropisch Verlangen pictures Baarda in a room with recording equipment: several keyboards, various pieces of wooden percussion, small bells and gongs. Dressed in a red sweater with collar peeking, stone white khakis (legs crossed), and huge glasses, he looks absolutely innocent and sweet. At its best, Tropisch Verlangen exudes this delighted curiosity. “Bali Pulau Bagus” features the trancelike rhythm of Indonesian gamelan accented by Blade Runner-style synths ping-ponging across the track. It’s fun, eager. The poetically-named “The Moon Is Shining Above the Ricefields” begins with the recording of frogs ribbiting, before a wooden xylophone plinks around, and low-key smooth jazz guitar (performed by his sister) takes over. The track is a bit haphazard, but that serves to increase its charm.

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