A Canadian in Beijing: Dealing Inspiration

One of my many aims of coming to Beijing was to embark on some music research (as described in my first blog). I spent the first six weeks gathering names and ideas and talking to people about my intentions to see what they thought of my research plans. I think taking time to settle into this community and carefully select who I ought to speak with and eventually interview was a good choice.

The project is going wonderfully.

The topic is women in music. The specific approach is a cross-examination of what it is like to be a woman who makes music (writes, composes, plays, sings) in this urban center (Beijing) as compared to what it’s like to be a woman making music in these ways in Toronto, for instance. The possibilities are endless. So far, my findings have been truly diverse.

Tuesday evening, my friend Traci and I headed to a local café and met with two amazing women, one who fronts a famous contemporary all-female Chinese punk band called “Hang On The Box” and another who was a member of the (now defunct) world famous and FIRST all-female rock band in China called “Cobra.” Both women, Wang Yue and Xiao Nan respectively, were a joy to meet and had so much to say about this amazing world of music.

But, it’s Traci who needs a shout out here. She is amazing. I just learned a new “chengyu 成语” (Chinese idiom) in class today and I immediately thought of her: yijian rugu “一见如故.” It means that someone feels like an old friend after the first meeting or, like you’ve met before because you immediately fall into a rhythm with each other. That’s what it was like when I met Traci and I am thrilled that she’s in my life.

When I first told Traci about my research plans, her eyes got wide and her pupils jumped with excitement. She told me that she had wanted to do similar research about ten years ago and hadn’t ever fully actualized her vision. She leaned forward in her chair to hear more and she got more and more excited about the ideas. She offered to help me on the spot and I, of course, eagerly accepted.

After all, she knows everyone in this music scene (it seems!) and her Chinese is impeccable after being her for thirteen years straight (and seventeen years on and off). I already knew that I would need a translator for certain interviews and certainly some help navigating this world of Chinese music. What’s more, having someone like Traci involved is like locating the missing piece – the essential bridge between two worlds.

I’ve found a perfect research partner and she’s been enormously helpful. Without her, this work couldn’t be done.

For instance, I’m extremely awkward on the telephone here. In fact, I still get really nervous speaking Chinese on the phone because I don’t have body language or any kind of energy context for what they’re saying. What’s more, people speak quickly and loudly on the telephone, which often blurs and distorts the sound. I have found myself completely lost in several conversations, which is just embarrassing, especially when I ask them to repeat themselves several times and the meaning doesn’t get any clearer with each repetition. When this happens, I begin to feel more and more anxious and stupid, which makes me more and more unable to understand: 越着急,越听不懂 (the more one worries, the more one doesn’t understand).

When I told Traci about my anxiety, she immediately offered to make the calls and set up the interview times with all of the Chinese artists that I wanted to interview. When she offered, the heavy dread lifted from my body. I visibly relaxed and sat back in my chair with a sigh. She laughed and completely understood. And, now that we’ve had an evening of interviews, I can see that without her, each interview would have been long and arduous with many misunderstandings and much frustration on both sides.

Traci’s such a good translator and is extremely gifted at making people feel comfortable that she should really do this for a living. She was unbelievable. Because she’s been a self-described “professional fan” of the music industry in China since the 90’s, she also is really knowledgeable and has no problem understanding the content of what is being said either, even though she is not a musician herself. That makes her a double expert – both in music and in Mandarin – and that is the ideal element of this project. What I offer is my investigation and writing skills. We form a perfect team.

All of these words have a (Christian) religious context, but I’m not sure what else to call her except one or all of the following: an angel, a saviour, a God-send? She is all and more. There’s got to be a more fitting word here . . .

Well, now that I’ve gushed for an entire post about my new friend, I should also tell you that my research will not be compiled here. I’ll be writing for several publications and websites when I get back and I’ll let you know where to find the articles.

In general, the biggest learning so far on this topic is that we, as women who make art, lead very similar lives no matter what the political, social, cultural, historical context. We want to be heard and have a voice, and we see how our contexts both restrict and enable those desires from being realized. There are times when we acknowledge and celebrate the “femaleness” of our art (both in perspective and approach) and times when we would just like to be seen as artists because the division is so tiring, so limiting, so annoying.

We did a lot of laughing on Tuesday at our mutually similar stories and experiences. While so much has changed in the past twenty years in both countries and in both the Canadian and Chinese music scenes, so much has also remained the same and may never change.

I left the café positively buzzing with new ideas. This philosophical cross-cultural exchange was like an injection of inspiration and I stayed up way too late writing and thinking and letting it settle in my bloodstream.

Inspiration is addictive.

Traci is the bridge to that high so I guess I ought to call her my “dealer.”

Which makes me an addict…

A Canadian In Beijing: Turn Up The Volume

Ember Swift is the newest member of Gadling. Over the next three months, this Canadian woman will be living in and exploring China. During her time there, she’ll be posting regularly about her adventures. Check in every Wednesday and Sunday to see what China is like from a Western perspective…

Beijing is less than one week away and my musician self can barely keep the volume down. My excitement is cranking and I haven’t even started packing yet. That’s tomorrow’s task and it brings me that much closer to eventually hearing the lilt of Mandarin spoken nearly everywhere I go for a solid three months.

I am a full-time musician who has logged a lot of travel miles. I’m onto my fifth touring van since 1997, for instance, and only two died of unnatural causes (one fire, one theft) while all the others were just driven to their graves after years of loyal service. But, to give you more résumé-like context, throughout the past eleven years there have been ten different independent releases (nine albums and one DVD), thousands of performances averaging approximately one hundred and fifty per year, eight tours to Australia (our most frequent overseas destination) and lots of changes to my band line-up which I must confess includes six different drummers – yikes! All in all, it makes my résumé sound heavily steeped in experience but lacking in flavour. Of course, résumé bullet points don’t include the stories. These stories weave in and out of the awards and accolades, times of struggle and periods of prosperity, debt and recovery. They are told in songs or between songs; they’re stage material that keeps this crazy journey full of life.


At the University of Toronto, I completed a degree in East Asian Studies and have four years of university Mandarin training lodged in loyal cavities in my brain. In between university and this nearly-in-China moment, I have pursued my music career full blast (as described above). What has been missing is the subtle connection between my education and my career. Now, nine years since graduation, it’s time to bring it all together.

My life seems to be playing out like a long-laboured-over song arrangement; this is the moment when all of the players are gathered in the same space and it’s time to hear if their parts fit together. There’s excitement and tension simultaneously, but all of the amplifiers are humming and ready.

China has always been my dream destination. . . . “when the music thing was over,” as if it really would be “over” one day. It only recently occurred to me that I am the agent in making any and all dreams come true, and that I didn’t have to wait for one part of my life to die in order to birth another. Besides, who says they aren’t related? It also occurred to me that going to Beijing for three months is very much a career decision. And, it will be. Now – well, now that I’ve listened to those occurrences — the potential seems obvious. It’s spinning before me.

Not only will three months in Beijing be a luxurious block of time and space to write more songs away from the rigorous tour schedule and constant business and band dynamics, but being surrounded by the tonal beauty of the Mandarin language will push my ear into new musical territories. For me, speaking or hearing Mandarin spoken is like singing or being sung to. Top that off with the opportunity to explore what is happening in the music scene of Beijing and we alight on the research portion of my trip: I can finally dust off some undergraduate research work that was an investigation of women and music in China and the growing audibility of women’s voices in the outpouring of Chinese music. My undergrad research was limited by my geography and I always envisioned the research continuing there.

Here is the door. This is me walking through it.

I’ll be starting off my trip as a tourist. Just a couple of days in a downtown hotel before moving to the University district and setting myself up in a dorm room. I’ve already scoped some sightseeing tours that will take me to some official tourist destinations and then spit me out into the registration line at the Beijing Language and Culture University. There, I’ll be refreshing my rusty Mandarin in a part-time morning course at twenty hours a week. The rest of my time will be spent opening many live music venue doors to listen, jam, meet people and cultivate the hope that I’ll eventually bring my band to China. We are an internationally touring act, but not yet in Asia, and I do believe that this journey will yield that opportunity.

Isn’t that all potential is? Finding the open doors? Being open to opening them?

Three months in one place is a radical choice for a gypsy. Keep in mind, however, that this is a city of fourteen million people to keep me occupied! I am looking forward to undressing the underbelly of the arts scene — particularly the music world — and I am sure that three months of networking, connecting, befriending and exploring will yield colorful stories.

So, I start as a tourist, morph into a student and then morph nightly into the artist that I am. Already I’m realizing that I’m really all these things all at once; this cacophony, or symphony, is me.

How will it sound?

I don’t know for sure, but I’m turning up the volume knob anyway.

Call it trust.