2010/02/14

The Yaogun Diaries, part 6

Part of a series dealing with rock music in China, mostly Beijing because that's what I know. 摇滚 (yáogǔn) is the Chinese word for rock music, the two characters literally meaning "shake" and "roll".

Cold Fairyland (冷酷仙境 lěngkù xiānjìng)

When I moved to China, I had in mind the goal of trying to find good, interesting music that didn’t just imitate foreign styles. Quite soon, this band’s name started cropping up. Their live album was released in 2006, so the English language magazines were talking about it. I went to their website, which offered a number of tracks for free download from their various albums. I liked everything I heard, so I went out and found a copy of the live CD pretty easily. I loved it and set about trying to find their other releases, which turned out to be not so easy to find. I found a couple in a tent at the MIDI Festival, and bought them even though they were priced considerably higher than the average Chinese CD. Imported from Taiwan, not domestic releases.
This Shanghai band’s core is Lin Di (林笛), who has played the pipa since age 4. She met bass player Su Yong (苏勇 ), and they started working together recording. Their demos attracted the attention of an independent label and were released as Flying over the City (在城市上空飞翔 zài chéngshì shàngkōng fēixiáng). It’s long out of print (I’ve never seen a copy in a store), but it is available for download from CDBaby.
The name Cold Fairyland was invented for this album, though at the time it really wasn’t a band. The name comes from the Chinese title of a novel by Japanese writer Haruki Murakami, which is known in English as Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World (I heartily recommend it, by the way).

Here’s a track to get an idea of what the “band” was about at their beginning. I don’t own it, so I’ll try embedding the player from the Chinese media site NeoCha.

(OK, it seems the embedding does not work, so I will just link to "Sea Rose".)

With this song, Lin takes a poem by American Hilda Doolittle (H.D.) and sets it to simple music, as befits the directness of the words. There is a definite demo quality to the recording, and Lin’s awkward pronunciation is only partly covered up by the echo and reverb heaped upon her voice.

After this, the story starts getting a little confusing. Didn’t take long, did it? The next recording Lin Di was involved with was 2002’s Ten Days in Magic Land (魔境十日 mójìng shírì, literally Devil Land Ten Days). This collection of music was the result of a commission Lin Di received as a composer from producer Liu Xing (刘星). It was originally released on the Wind label from Taiwan, credited to “Lin Di – Cool Zone” (where “Cool Zone” is written in Chinese exactly the same as Cold Fairyland). So technically this is a Lin Di solo album which has Cold Fairyland as her backing band, but since she’s the main composer for the band anyway, there’s really little to distinguish this album from proper Cold Fairyland recordings. This album is often listed as being from later years, since it has been reissued more than once. My copy says 2003; I believe it was recorded in 2002.
Wind marketed this CD to the New Age audience, playing off some stylistic elements similar to European artists such as Enigma. As you can tell from this tune, the New Age label is a bit of a stretch.

“The Flood”

That’s 洪水 (hóngshuǐ – The Flood), one of the more energetic tunes in the set, though it’s certainly not out of place.

There is a great leap forward in production values here – the whole album is beautifully recorded, with the mixture of electronic and acoustic instruments handled very nicely. Su Yong plays bass, and there are contributions by others on flutes and other traditional instruments. There’s a lot of percussion by Li Jia (李佳), but no drum kit aside from what is sequenced by Lin. The album’s ten tracks correspond to the ten days of the title.

The following year saw the release of another band-credited album, the first one to be recorded since Lin and Su’s project turned into a real band. Kingdom of Benevolent Strangers (陌生仙子国 mòshēng xiānzǐ guó, literally Strange Fairyland) features Lin and Su along with Li Jia (the percussionist from Ten Days) on drums, Song Jianfeng (宋建丰) on guitar, and Zhou Shen’an (周圣安) on cello. It was created as a band effort in the studio, though all the tracks feature Lin as composer, either on her own or collaborating with others. She is credited under the name Miyadudu (米亚嘟嘟), which she would later use for a true solo album. Oddly enough, the band’s name is translated on the cover as Cool Fairyland.
In 2009, I finally found a copy of this in a store in Beijing. I paid an exorbitant price for a CDR in a cracked jewel case. But I was so happy to have a real copy of it that I forked over the cash, though not without a little grumbling.

Here’s a track to sample. It’s been a staple of their live shows.

“Dead Children in the Newspapers”

That’s 死在报纸上的孩子 (sǐ zài bàozhǐ shàng de háizi); I picked it because it features the cello prominently. This pairing of pipa and cello would become one of Cold Fairyland’s defining features. As you can hear, the production is more straightforward and less atmospheric than Ten Days, but certainly better than the 2001 demos. Other tracks feature Song’s guitar very prominently, for some very powerful rock moments, especially on 里绝望的花 (shǒuxīnli juéwàng de huā – Desperate Flower in Your Hand). On this album you get to see the band’s real direction, which aims to combine traditional Chinese sounds with what might be called progressive rock.

The next recording is another Lin Di solo album, 2004’s Bride in Legend; the Chinese title is 迷路新娘 (mílù xīnniáng), which means Lost Bride.
Like Ten Days, it was produced by Liu Xing, and it is again a lush concept piece. This time Lin tells the story of Yilang Yilang, a young girl sent out from her home village to be the bride of a man in a distant city. The events she experiences along the way change her and her understanding of the world. The backing band is not credited as Cold Fairyland, though the liner notes mention “Cool Zone” again; Su Yong, Li Jia and Song Jianfeng are present along with an even greater number of traditional instruments. Oddly enough, the pipa is not credited to Lin Di; there is cello on the album, but not played by Zhou Shen’an.

Once again, it was released on Taiwan’s Wind label and marketed to the New Age crowd, with elaborate packaging including liner notes in English and Chinese (unfortunately my copy almost immediately came unglued so I have to be really careful with it). There is less prominence given to the electronic MIDI programming, and much more emphasis on the Chinese instruments. From start to finish it’s a beautiful experience, with enough energy to keep it from inducing sleep.

“Mula Shabei War”

The track I’ve picked (慕拉沙贝大战 mùlāshābèi dàzhàn) is actually atypical. It’s track eight, and the first time electric guitar appears – kind of stands out when you hear it in the album’s sequence, but in a good way. This album is a good match with Ten Days, another beautifully realized studio creation that seamlessly mixes East and West, ancient and modern.

The next album brings us back to where I started with this band: their live album 2005现场 (2005 xiànchǎng, literally 2005 On Location – 现场 is the phrase used for a reporter at the scene of an incident – though it’s usually called 2005 Live in English). It was recorded at ARK in Shanghai, and revisits music from all of the previous releases, including the Lin Di solo albums, as well as a couple of new pieces.
The band consists of the recurring musicians I’ve already mentioned, all together and working as a unit. The cello is especially prominent, and the rhythm section really gets the chance to cut loose, completely dispelling any New Age stigma.

Here’s the live version of a song that previously appeared on Kingdom.

“Desperate Flower in Your Hand”

On this CD’s cover, the Chinese title 手心里绝望的花 (shǒuxīnli juéwàng de huā) is translated as “Holding the Flower of Despair,” but I’m sticking with the way it was written earlier – both seem accurate translations, and I guess the difference in meaning is pretty slight.

If I had been able to read Chinese when I got this CD, I would have noticed that the original release years and album titles for all the tracks are listed, and include something for 2006 called 地上的种子 (dìshang de zhǒngzi Seeds on the Ground); there is also one track with no other appearance listed. The only flaw to this recording is the occasional shaky quality of the vocals (more so the men’s backing parts than Lin’s lead), which is of course understandable given the live setting.

Also in 2005, Ten Days was reissued on a domestic Chinese label with a different cover:
In 2007 (not 2006 as promised on the live album), the next band album appeared. Seeds on the Ground continues the progression towards a less pop-oriented sound, with more attention given to the band’s unique qualities, especially the instrumentation with pipa and cello. Two of the new songs that appeared on the live album are given a studio treatment.
The personnel remains the same as on the live album, and the mood is a bit more serene in the studio setting, though far from sleepy. They start off with the title track, which features acoustic guitar, pipa, hand percussion, and a lovely vocal arrangement.

Here is a sample to give you an idea what they’re up to on this album:

“The Moon at the Fortified Pass”

That’s 关山月 (guānshān yuè – yes, only three characters for the six words of the English title). It’s one of only three tracks with lyrics, and those lyrics are by the famous Tang Dynasty poet Li Bai. On the whole, Song plays a lot more acoustic guitar than electric. Several tracks feature odd meters and complex rhythms. In some ways, it seems that on this album, the band has come into their own, finally integrating all the diverse elements into a unified whole.
In the fall of 2008, I finally had a chance to see Cold Fairyland live. They played at the Modern Sky Festival in Beijing’s Haidian Park. I wrote about the performance originally here. Check it out for more photos and video.
It was here that I discovered founding bassist Su Yong was no longer with the band. I don’t know the story, but he’s been replaced by Seppo Lehto, who is Finnish. Su is now working with Wu Zhuoling (吴桌玲) in A-Z.
I also discovered that the lineup has been augmented with a full-time keyboard player, Xi Jin’e (奚近萼); previously, Lin had covered keyboards in the studio and alternated between pipa and keys when playing live.
As far as I know, Li Jia is still the band’s drummer, and just couldn’t make it to Beijing when I saw them.
It will be very interesting to see how these changes will play out in the band’s next recording, whenever that may be. Lin Di tells me the current lineup makes the band a “3 couples band.”

Lin Di’s most recent project is a solo CD called 秘密花园的邂逅 (mìmì huāyuán de xièhòu Meet in Secret Garden), credited to 米亚嘟嘟 (Miyadudu). It is perhaps her first true solo album, with very little participation by other musicians.
Here’s my favorite track:

“Waterbird’s Secret Language”

水鸟密语 (shuǐniǎo mìyǔ) is the track that features pipa most prominently, which is a large part of the appeal for me.

And finally, in 2009, Seeds on the Ground was re-released with a different cover.
Not sure why they changed it. It’s pretty, but I prefer the original one.

There you go, a short (yeah, right) introduction to my favorite Chinese band. I’m tired now.

Rock in China entry: http://wiki.rockinchina.com/index.php?title=Cold_Fairyland
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/coldfairyland
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/home.php?ref=home#!/pages/Cold-Fairyland/40842708567?ref=sgm
Official site: http://www.coldfairyland.com/
iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/cold-fairyland/id264914696?ign-mpt=uo%3D6

Note: All images and audio files presented here are in the interest of increasing awareness of Chinese rock in the English-speaking world. If you are the owner of the copyright in any of them and object to this free promotion, let me know and I'll remove the offending media.

2010/02/05

The Yaogun Diaries, part 5

Part of a series dealing with rock music in China, mostly Beijing because that's what I know. 摇滚 (yáogǔn) is the Chinese word for rock music, the two characters literally meaning "shake" and "roll".

Milk@Coffee

Moving even farther astray from the punkish side of Chinese rock, we find this band, known sometimes by the Chinese version of their name, 牛奶@咖啡 (niúnǎi kāfēi) with the @ often not pronounced. I suppose you could say they’re not a rock band at all (see below for their own take on the question), but I have a pretty broad definition of rock. To pick a Western genre for them, I would probably choose “indie pop” but I don’t regard anything including the word “indie” as an actual genre. They are basically the duo of Fu Yan (富妍), known as Kiki, singing and 格非 (Ge Fei) on keyboards, guitar, programming, and so on. In a live setting other players are added to fill out the sound.

Their first album was called 燃烧吧!小宇宙 (ránshāo ba! xiǎo yǔzhòu), officially translated as Burn! My Cosmos, and came out in 2005.
I really enjoy this happy music, which reminds me of some of the Japanese bands I like. Here’s a track for you to get the idea.

“Lasia”

This song, called “Lasia” actually garnered them some success in China, apparently hitting #3 on some kind of chart (I can’t find documentation of this, just a reference on Baidu).

There’s also a fun video for the title track of the album:

The first time I saw them live was at the Beijing Pop Festival in September of 2007. You can read my original post here.
By the end of the set, they had a whole bunch of extra people on the stage dancing and singing the chorus of a song that wasn’t on the CD; even then I knew enough Chinese to make out the title “Wo bushi rock ‘n’ roll” which means “I’m Not Rock ‘n’ Roll” – ironic since it was the most rock oriented tune they played.
The next time I saw them live was in a much more controlled setting, MAO Livehouse, in July of 2008 as part of a “girls’ night” featuring all female-led performances. While I didn’t write a review of the show, I did post some pictures. Here’s another one:
I found myself grinning like an idiot pretty much throughout their set. Kiki is so charismatic, cheerful, and cute you would have to be a real grouch to dislike her. There was a charming bit where she brought out a sequined top hat and a sparkly cane to do a little dance. The hat later ended up on the guitarist.

I even took some video of their final number.

Later in 2008 they released their second album, which has the happy title of 越长大越孤单, More Grown up, More Lonely.
When I got it, I was very happy to see it had the song I remembered from their festival performance. 我不是 Rock ‘n’ Roll (I’m Not Rock ‘n’ Roll).

“I’m Not Rock ‘n’ Roll”

About the same time as the CD came out I saw them again, this time at the Modern Sky Festival. Again, they got only a few photos instead of a full review.
It was a really fun performance, what with the pirate hat and bubble machines and all, and the crowd was so big I couldn’t get anywhere near the stage. This was by far the biggest stage I’ve seen them on, and they had a great time. The backing band was a little different, featuring a female keyboard player to fill in while Ge Fei concentrated on guitar.

In addition to their own CD releases, Milk@Coffee was involved in an interesting little project put together by Modern Sky Records: a CD for children called 星猫 (xīng māo Star Cat).
I hope this project is successful – it will be great to have a generation of kids exposed to music other than sappy pop.

Rock in China entry: http://wiki.rockinchina.com/index.php?title=Milk@Coffee

Note: All images and audio files presented here are in the interest of increasing awareness of Chinese rock in the English-speaking world. If you are the owner of the copyright in any of them and object to this free promotion, let me know and I'll remove the offending media.

The Dianying Diaries, part 2

Part of a series dealing with Chinese cinema. 电影 (diànyǐng) is the Chinese word for movie, the two characters literally meaning “electric” and “shadow.”

小城之春 (xiǎochéng zhī chūn) – Springtime in a Small Town (2002)

As I mentioned last time around, the 1948 Chinese classic film with this title was remade in 2002. Though the official English titles are different, in Chinese they are identical. This time around, the director was Tian Zhuangzhuang (田壮壮 ) of the so-called Fifth Generation of Chinese filmmakers, along with Zhang Yimou (张艺谋) and Chen Kaige (陈凯歌 ). Tian’s career has been very erratic, with a smaller number of films to his credits than others of his generation. This is due in great part to the aftermath of his 1993 film 蓝风筝 (The Blue Kite), which was banned in his homeland and earned him a forced hiatus for a few years. Even after his blacklisting was over, he did not make another film until this one nearly ten years later.
On the surface, this film is a marked departure from Tian’s tendency to push the boundaries of what his government would accept – it’s a simple story of a love triangle with no significant political or historical content. The plot remains unchanged from the original, so you can read my previous entry to see what it’s about. There is perhaps a slight bit of subversion in the choice to remake a neglected classic, first since that film was somewhat out of favor (though not banned). And by retreating into the past, to a movie that was made before the Revolution, maybe he was making a statement about how the authorities’ restrictions served to render Chinese artists impotent. But we should not read too much into these possibilities.

If I had seen this film on its own, and not shortly after watching the original, I might very well have felt differently about it. To be honest, this modern film suffers from the comparison in most respects. Although it garnered positive reviews both in China and abroad, I find it pales next to Fei Mu’s achievement.

To illustrate why I feel this way, let me go through some of the things I noted about the original, comparing the differences.
(The original Yuwen meets the new Yuwen)
First of all Yuwen’s narration is gone. In the DVD extras, Tian explains that her narration reduced the other characters’ importance, and he wanted to tell the story in a more balanced way, giving equal weight to Liyan and Zhicheng. I would call this change neutral.

Second, the character of Little Sister is significantly altered. Far from being the perceptive young woman she was in the original, she is giggly and immature. I’ve considered that maybe it’s just the choice of the young actress for the part, but it’s more than that. Frankly, the character of Little Sister in the original was a real joy; even when she wasn’t speaking you could see from her attitude that she understood what was going on maybe better than anyone else in the story. Her reduction to a shallow teenager is quite a loss for the film.
Third, the dialog is much more naturalistic, lacking the stagy quality I noted in the original. I’d have to call this one in Tian’s favor. While the acting style of the original didn’t really bother me, by comparison this seems more true-to-life. In addition, there’s a lot more talking in this version – some scenes that were nearly silent before now have dialog.

Fourth, Yuwen mostly lacks the forthright flirtatious manner she sometimes exhibited in the original. I found it decidedly odd that a 21st Century film would actually be less daring than its 1948 source. Yuwen is on the whole less energetic, independent and engaging in this go-round.

(I couldn't find this part with subtitles. The rowboat scene is about five minutes in.)
Fifth, while there are still scenes with singing, it is no longer Chinese folk songs that are sung. In the wonderful rowing scene of the original, they sing an ode to springtime, that, while it’s sung in Chinese, is set to the tune of “The Blue Danube.” And when Zhicheng gets drunk at Little Sister’s birthday party, he sings a piece from an Italian opera.

And finally, this film is in color. The cinematography is really lovely, but does lack the sense of desolation that the black and white gave us. As before, the lighting is often dim, though the candlelight now provides a warm glow rather than feeble flickering.

Another difference that was quite jarring was this: in the original, we never so much as saw another human being aside from the five principles. Now, for no reason I can make out, there is a single scene that breaks out of that confinement. Zhicheng goes to Little Sister’s school and teaches her classmates how to dance a waltz (again, note the favoring of a foreign influence over Chinese tradition).

To some extent, the rowing scene sums up the changes Tian made to Fei’s movie. The camera angle is much wider, giving us a detached, less engaged feeling; the characters do not exchange any meaningful glances, giving little hint what they’re feeling; and a Chinese folk song is replaced with a bastardized version of a European classical tune.

So while I would not say Tian’s film is a classic of Chinese cinema, it is far from a bad film, and shows lots of craft in the making. Tian obviously knows what he is doing, and what I see as shortcomings here are for the most part deliberate choices, not failures in movie-making skill. I wouldn’t want to discourage anyone from watching this picture, but would definitely urge everyone to seek out the original.

Wikipedia entry
IMDB entry
Netflix entry