The arts are an important component to China’s cultural inheritance. Mao himself was a poet and a lover of music — granted, the only music allowed during his regime were “Red Songs” with lyrics from his own poetry, but it was music nonetheless. Classical music was not introduced to China until the late 1970s under Deng Xiaoping’s leadership. A professor from the Central Conservatory of Music had written Deng a letter requesting permission to enroll students after a 10-year dry spell during the Cultural Revolution–a timely request as Deng was set on modernizing China, opening doors to western influence, and consequently classical music. Permission granted,  17,285 people lined up for the college entrance examination. Narrowed down to 105 total enrollments, my mom was one of 20 singers from all of China to join the ranks. This was the first wave of a new revolution — what I call the “Classical Music Revolution of China.”

My dad followed my mom’s footsteps shortly after, and post graduation, followed her to the United States where she pursued her career in opera, and had me. Growing up,  classical music and the arts in general, surrounded me. (I am writing this post while my mom’s student is roaring Italian lyrics downstairs.) Our family friends were literally all involved in the arts, and while I dabbled in it, I did not end up a musician–a great mystery and shame to many.

My mom as CioCio Sun in Madame Butterfly.

In the west, my mom could study music with American and European teachers, while in the east, the field was still developing. I remember as a child touring around the States watching her perform in Madame Butterfly, La Boheme and Carmen, among others. She also traveled all over the world, singing operas in various European languages. Her career flourished in the west, where opera was an occasion for dressing up and showing off wealth and culture. In the wake of rising tuitions and increasing economic disparity, this is one of Occupy Wall Street’s arguments; performing arts are elitist.

There is no doubt that classical music has historically been limited to the upper class, but as Tommasini points out in his article, there is today an abundance of free and affordable performing arts events throughout New York City.  Similarly in China, attending a performance at the National Center for the Performing Arts is not a cheap ordeal. But there are events scattered throughout Beijing that are accessible to those who are curious or interested. The school my mom works for (the high school attached to the Central Conservatory of Music), for example, often puts on free performances for the public. Too bad the turnouts remain to be low.

Many of my mom’s students come from the wealthiest of families — sons and daughters of leaders in the coal industry, an army surgeon, TV/movie stars, political figures, and various successful businesspeople. This is a major difference between music students today and music students from my parents’ generation. My parents were extremely poor when they began schooling, as were all families during that time, but again, classical music was just a budding interest then. Now that the west has full-blown influence over Chinese society and culture (much to Hu Jingtao’s dismay), classical music has become a popular career path. However, only those who can afford the education can find a place in that field, unless you are blessed with a voice that penetrates the heart and soul of the judges at your audition.

I completely agree with Occupy Wall Street protestors that “the main issue regarding performing arts institutions is not inaccessibility but insularity,” because as I said, you have to have the funds to pursue this career. I have questioned my parents’ morality for working for government-run and arguably profit-oriented schools, but after having witnessed their frustrations, the dead ends, and watching my mom teach tirelessly, my mind changed. My parents’ passion for music and grounded dedication to their students are reason enough for my admiration (besides being their only child of course). And from personal encounters with these students, they’re not so bad. Sure, some are snobby teenagers with brand name clothing and a private apartment, but where in the world are there not such people? They are like any other child striving to achieve their dreams as musicians–just like hip hop artists, baseball players, doctors and lawyers–who happen to come from the 1% (most who work their butts off to support their child’s dreams).

There are  many things I find wrong with Chinese society (as you may have determined from my previous posts), but one thing I have come to appreciate during my time here is the cultural fervor. Don’t get me wrong, I am aware that many Chinese artists are suppressed, exiled, jailed, because I am lucky to have an outlet to both eastern and western news, but just knowing that they exist excites me because I sense the kindling of a counterrevolution. And knowing that my parents are part of this movement — whether they see it as that or not — makes me very proud to be their daughter.

Life is definitely different now that my parents are classical-music-big-shots as opposed to lower- to middle- class immigrants, but I will never consider our family elitist. We are just a loving bunch of teachers committed to passing on what we know to whoever will listen.

Er hu player

Chinese people LOVE music.  Karaoke is so popular that on almost every street there are a couple of karoake places with rooms for one person to sing along to rooms large enough for a decent sized party. Unlike Australia, where we sing in a bar, karaoke here is a private pastime that friends do together. If students are locked out of their dorms, they head to the karaoke bars because they can continue the fun and then fall asleep on the sofas.

It is common to hear people singing quietly to themselves as they go about their work.  The gate guards while away time singing as we pass by. MP3 players are permamently glued to ears for many young people.  Early morning and late evening the gardens around me are filled with people practicing their musical instruments or singing. This focus on music is also seen on TV with so many channels dedicated to talent shows.

A walk near the main city wall gates at night will see many groups of local people, singing, playing and enjoying tehmeelves.  Some are singing revolutionary songs, others enjoy the traditional local opera.  My farmer painter friends are members of a  local village opera group and frequently when I visit they gather the group together for a jam session.  Zhou Gege  is self-taught, not only on the er hu but also on the yangqin.  Spending an afternoon listening to the music, watching the dancers, sometimes having a go on the instruments and eating hearty village food is a is great way of relaxing and learning about ‘real’ China.

All across China a cultural renaissance is taking place. During the revolution, much of the traditional music was replaced with revolutionary music, inspiring the people to take up arms and support the revolution.  Today there is a revival of this for the 90th anniversary of the Communist Party.  Red Song competitions are being held across China – although talking to my friends, this ‘revival’ is not inspiring the patriotism and fervour for the Party as was hoped, and many of them laugh at the irony of extolling revolution while now being afraid to make even minor criticisms of the party in public. As well, The Central Government is now encouraging and supporting the expansion of the arts and new theatres, art galleries and art precincts are springing up. Xi’an is no exception. Not only are new theatres being built, but historical theatres are being renovated and given a new lease of life.

The People’s Theatre in Main North St, Xi’an (陕西人民剧院， 东大街) is one theatre that has benefitted from this policy. Established in 1954 this ‘grand old dame’ has been given a thorough facelift and is now North-West China’s most versatile theatre with the largest stage. The Y40,000,000 cost of the renovations can be seen in the bas relief wall decorations, the new comfortable seating, the lighting and technology available to stage anything from full-scale operas to rock concerts. The exterior has retained its heritage look, but the inside is a totally different look.

The Shaanxi Philharmonic ( 陕西省乐团) is currently presenting an audio-visual Oscar Movie Classics Concert with show tunes from Gone with the Wind, Love Story and Titanic, among others. Accompanying the famous pieces are scenes from the movies, a couple of which bring back nostalgic memories of a youthful romantic evenings at the movies.  The tears from Love Story, the sheer romance of Gone With The Wind….   Ah, those were the days!   The Orchestra motto ‘The heart may be limited, but music is unlimited’ reflects their hopes for the future..

The same evening as I attended the Shaanxi Phil, I also went to a local bar to see my favourite guitar player – Ali!  Ali is a dynamic player. Born in Xinjiang he sees himself as the ‘old man of rock’ in Xi’an, having been here playing and encouraging young musos for the last 10 years.  Ali plays, organises rock concerts and works with young bands to start them on the path to fame and fortune. He composes and arranges as well as plays and sings.  And for stage presence and audience control – there is no-one better.  He can have an entire audience banging, singing and waving in time just by waving his arms at them.

Music seems to be very important in China and the vast majority of Chinese people sing well.  I often wonder if it is because of having to learn to listen to tones to learn to speak.  It seems to me that musicians learn Chinese more quickly than those of us who are tone deaf and have been frequently advised NOT to give up the day job!!

What ever the reason – I am happy to be surrounded by music!!

Ali

Bass guitarist - XiaoHe

Ali and XiaoHe

Word by Gong Aishu and Yu Zhidi
Music by Ma Dianyin

Mother, mother, my dear mother,
You used your sweet milk to feed me,
Helped me learn to walk, taught me to speak
Sang lullabies while I was sleeping,
Always worried about me
Mother, mother, my dear mother
Your character is plain and simple.
Mother, mother, my dear mother
You inspired me to take a revolutionary career

Party, Party, my dear Party
You cultured me like my mother,
Educated me to love motherland and encouraged me to learn,
A happy future is waving to me,
You painted the beautiful a picture of the four modernizations(1)
Party, Party, Dear Party
How sublime and great your image is
Party, Party, dear Party,
You are my dearest mother.

Note:

(1) The four modernizations has been a slogan and goal since 1954, that is, the modernizations of agriculture, industry, national defense, and science and technology.

Chinese original version

 
《党啊,亲爱的妈妈》
龚爱书、余致迪 词
马殿银、周右 曲
妈妈哟妈妈亲爱的妈妈
你用那甘甜的乳汁把我喂养大
扶我学走路,教我学说话
唱着夜曲伴我入眠
心中时常把我牵挂
妈妈哟妈妈亲爱的妈妈
你的品德多么朴实无华
妈妈哟妈妈亲爱的妈妈
你激励我走上革命生涯
亲爱的妈妈
→
党啊党啊亲爱的党啊
你就象妈妈一样把我培养大
教育我爱祖国鼓励我学文化
幸福的明天向我招手
四化美景你描画
党呵党呵亲爱的党呵
你的形象多么崇高伟大
党呵党呵亲爱的党呵
→
你就是我最亲爱的妈妈
亲爱的妈妈亲爱的妈妈呵

(Just for my translation excercise!)
 

* This is my first time back to Chengdu since five years ago, when I worked for a private equity fund here. It has changed a lot less than I was led to believe, from what others had told me. Sure, there are a couple of new, taller buildings that weren’t around last time I remember, but overall, the city’s character hasn’t changed: the leisurely pace, the professional ear-cleaners in the park, the damp cloudy drizzle, the scooters and bicycles with umbrellas fixed over them, the quirky Chinglish signs … it’s nice to know that somewhere in China, at least, isn’t in too huge of rush to reinvent itself.

* In Chengdu’s People’s Park, I came across several groups of older people singing and performing “red” songs — the revolutionary and Cultural Revolution songs (often in praise of Mao) that recently have been promoted as part of a populist campaign by Bo Xilai, the party boss of neighboring Chongqing. I found it intriguing that the phenomenon had spread to Sichuan. The people participating did, I noticed, seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves.

* On a visit to a local snack food factory, which makes a nationally distributed brand of beef snacks, the owner told me that wages for his relatively unskilled employees have more than doubled over the past year, from an average of RMB 800 per month to RMB 2000.

* I noticed a few “sold-but-empty” luxury condo developments in the city, but quite a few more on the far outskirts, in the brand new industrial zones that have sprung up, often an hour or more from the city center. The urban sprawl is a lot more extensive than I remember — it seems you now have to drive forever to leave Chengdu, and yet you’re still in it.

* Popeye’s Chicken and Kenny Rogers Roasters have both left Chengdu. There are still a handful of KFCs, but a local chain called Liao’s Bon-Bon Chicken has sprung up and is virtually on every corner. McDonald’s in Chengdu’s city center are few and far between, but once I hit the outskirts — near the new industrial parks — I noticed several with drive-thru windows, a very rare sight indeed in China. I’d be curious to learn whether it’s catching on.

* Passed by several bloody car accidents, including one motorcycle driver who was still lying — dead — in the middle of the road with his head cracked open, with a crowd of onlookers just standing around gawking. The roads of China are not for the faint of heart.

* On a more cheerful note, I came across a new brand of baijiu (China’s traditional white liquor that tastes much like lighter fluid) with a wonderfully appropriate name:

Written by Mao Zedong in October of 1935 to commemorate the Red Army’s legendary 6000-mile trek (1934-1935) that broke the Guomindang blockade, the “Long March” is being read avidly today—at least by members of the Chinese women’s Olympic volleyball team.  During practice, the team works on their spikes, stuffs, sets, and line shots; after practice they come together to read the “Long March.”

Why do they read and recite the “Long March”?  The China Volleyball Association website explains,

Through these kinds of activities, the Chinese women’s volleyball team…learns from the old Red Army, stays brave when facing difficulties, devotes itself to daily training, works hard, raises standards and prepares for the London Olympics with the momentum that Chairman Mao had when leading the Red Army throughout the Long March.

Never mind that we can’t know how genuinely inspired team members are by their reading of “Long March” or whether the Chairman’s poetry will provide sufficient inspiration for them to win gold in London in 2012.  What’s notable here is that Mao is enjoying a renaissance.  That the Olympic volleyball team holds study sessions to discuss the poems of the Chairman, much as youths 50 years ago, during the Cultural Revolution, studied the sayings of Mao in the Little Red Book, is but one indicator of his renewed popularity.

Another, more telling indicator is to be found in metropolitan Chongqing (pop. 30 million).  Tune in to Chongqing Television (CTV) at prime time and you’ll no longer see the lineup of popular soap operas and sit-coms; instead you’ll be able to watch epic films or sing along to one of 36 “red songs” (selected by the government) that extol the achievements of Chairman Mao and the Chinese Communist Party.

Watching "red" programming in Chongqing

Chongqing Party Secretary Bo Xilai ordered the change in programming–as part of his “red culture” movement.  For Bo, and others like him– dubbed the “new left”–China has strayed too far from its “red” roots and needs to recommit itself to the revolutionary values of the early People’s Republic.

In the first couple of decades of the PRC (1949-  ), the new left maintains, the Mao-led government guaranteed economic security—jobs for all at equal pay; a safety net—where the elderly and infirm were to be provided for by the state; and a social equality—where distinctions between the privileged and unprivileged, the rich and the poor, the urban and the rural were not indelible.   Zhang Jiedong, a recent graduate of the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute, says this message resonates now, especially with older generations, in its nostalgic appeal to an era where “there was less stress; income was guaranteed and competition for status symbols was almost non-existent.” (Bloomberg)

Where is all of this–the reading of the “Long March,” the watching of revolutionary films, the singing of “red songs,” and the calling for government policies that hew more closely to the founding ideals of the PRC–headed?  Hard to say.  But that the Chairman’s voice–35 years after his death–is vibrant and influential in China today—is certain.

Every few years or so, a new wave of Canadian indie bands seemingly explode into widespread popularity, a popularity which envelops places well outside of the country’s borders. In the late nineties the role belonged to Broken Social Scene and The New Pornographers, while the early 2000s were dominated by the likes of Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade.  Now, with another decade behind us, a new wave is beginning to emerge; a wave dominated by names like Patrick Watson, The Most Serene Republic, and Owen Pallett.  In the wake of two stellar recordings, the time has come to add a new name to the list: Hey Rosetta.  On their last release – 2009 Polaris Prize short-listed album Into Your Lungs – the Newfoundland six-piece proved that heartbreaking eloquence and fervent elation could coexist beautifully.  Now, as they prepare to release Into Your Lungs in the United States, Hey Rosetta have regrouped to give American listeners a taste of their sadder, delectably tragic side.

After ditching any notion of the word ‘refined’, and without a producer or any fancy studio space, the band settled into the home of a close friend for a weekend’s worth of open-minded recording.  What resulted was a kitchen party of a different sort, culminating in this wonderfully raw three song EP, entitled Red Songs.  Though the color red has seemingly been an oft-visited inspiration for front man Tim Baker, the title lends itself specifically to track one, entitled “Red Song”.  The sprawling ballad needs only the strumming of an acoustic guitar to accompany Baker’s voice, which seams in and out of colorful, albeit dark metaphors.  When cello and violin kick in midway, they do so in perfect emotional form, and the twang of an electric guitar also accentuates Baker’s lament admirably.  The rest of Red Songs sees a rearrangement of a classic Canadian folk song called “Who Is At My Window Weeping”, as well as an eerie acoustic number called “Bandages”.  These unusually folksy songs etch in a Gordon Lightfoot-like singer/songwriter aura around Baker.  While “Bandages” accepts this, a string-oriented buildup sees “Who Is At My Window Weeping” morph midway, into the poppy alt-rock sound that Hey Rosetta does best.  This unrefined endeavor may be toned back, untreated, and short, but it is indeed very sweet.  Though it lacks the magnitude of some of their previous recordings, the album is ripe with a genuine sincerity, and Hey Rosetta shows that quality, not quantity, is the lynchpin of any excellent recording.