A Canadian in Beijing: Sing for Beijing

by Ember Swift on

I was told that a gig that goes right, technically, is a rare occurrence in China. In fact, when my show was over tonight, people said: “you handled that well!” rather than “great show!” or “great songs!”

The situation they’re referring to is the fact that the guitar I borrowed had some pick-up problems that I wasn’t aware of until the gig began and it buzzed and squealed intermittently throughout the set. The only thing that would relieve it was yanking out the cord and plugging it back in. I got quite good at pausing, muting, yanking, plugging, un-muting all in time with the music and without stopping the lyrics, but I have to say that I was extremely distracted! I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. In the end, I just had to use a microphone on the guitar (below) which forced me to stand very still!

Isn’t there a saying about a craftsman only being as good as his tools? (or “her” tools, in this case!) But I won’t blame my tools as per the other expression (“a poor craftsman blames [her] tools”) but I’ll simply say that I was challenged but persevered. And, I did sing rather well despite the cigarette smoke.
My set was followed by Hanggai, an amazing Mongolian folk band with throat singing and traditional instruments. I was able to leave all of my gig frustrations on the stage and instantly become an audience member and I thoroughly enjoyed their music. Sometimes haunting and angular and sometimes sweet and rich. It was beautiful.

The first shot shows me in the last song when I was loaned a guitar by the headlining artist, Ramona Cordova. I had to sit because it was a strapless guitar (!) but I was really appreciative nonetheless. Ramona’s music is gentle and sweet and his voice has amazing range. I sat back and took in his ethereal high notes and relaxed stage vibe.

I met some nice people, had some laughs, drank my free beer and returned back to Wudaokou with humility. Here is a picture of my two Australian friends, Sarah and Jenny, who were there cheering me on.

I’m now able to say that I played some songs on stage in China. Before I leave at the end of this three-month stay, I’m sure there will actually be an Ember Swift show. I still have lots of time and this experience of building a brand new music community is teaching me so much already. For instance, the next time I have a gig here with a working guitar, I will definitely not take that clear signal for granted! Maybe that’s a clear signal to me to simply appreciate what does work more often. A good attitude? My voice? My ability to make friends? My ears? All were in fine working order at Yugong Yishan last night.

No complaints.

Photos of me performing by: Sarah Keenan

Tickets on Sale for Beijing Olympics

by Jonathon Morgan on

OK, sports fans, if you’re planning on attending next year’s Olympics in Beijing, you might want to get your tickets now. More than 7 million have just gone on sale, but 75% are allotted for Chinese residents only, and you can’t buy them in large numbers — in fact, some events, like the opening ceremonies, have a 1 ticket per person policy.

On the plus side, it won’t be horribly expensive. Organizers are keeping prices low, in the hopes that the games can be affordable for everyone. In fact, more than half the tickets are going for $12 or less.

In the event that you’re not quite ready to book a trip 15 months in advance, don’t worry. This is only the first wave of ticket sales. Procrastinators will get another shot at seats in October of this year.

This is where I’m at in the planning process. I’d love to go, but I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to. I’ve never been to China, nor have I attended an Olympics, so this could be the perfect opportunity to do both. Plus, by August 8th, 2008, I might just have enough money saved up to eat while I’m attending.

See you there?

A Canadian In Beijing: Live Music in China’s Capital

by Ember Swift on

Mao Live House is smoky and cavernous. It’s only ten after eight in the evening but there are already a few people lingering along the edges and the door staff were poised and ready to take my thirty kuai cover charge to see these three bands tonight. I was welcomed in English, which isn’t uncommon where ticket prices are higher than average, but I responded in Chinese and paid willingly to support the local artists. (Thirty kuai, after all, is only about $4.50 Canadian, a steal for three live acts on the same night!)

This venue is known as the best sounding live music venue in town and it definitely has the equipment to prove it. It is owned by a Japanese company and, according to Traci (a.k.a. my Beijing informant: an American woman who has been living here for thirteen years), it was outfitted by the same company with state-of-the-art sound equipment and a Japanese sound tech to go with it.

Said sound tech looks sullen behind the sound desk. There’s a Madonna-esque pop song blaring through the sound system as he puffs at his endless cigarette and seems suspended in his cloud of droopy boredom. Head leaning into his bent arm, floppy hat forming a canopy over his eyebrows, long black hair in a messy ponytail at the nape of his neck. He looks just like any sound guy in any city. In fact, maybe even livelier than some!

The floor of the venue has three levels, each separated by an iron railing save the walkway between them. The uppermost at the back of the room is equipped with chairs and a small table and I am told that this is the media section. It is reserved for media during big shows when interviews are needed or a filming section is required that is a few feet about the crowd. Tonight, however, there are no media people and this section is open.

I opt for the pit instead. I want to see every little detail.

This place would suit a punk show for sure with its grey cement floors, near complete absence of seating and the black walls and railings and stage. Save the “MAO” logo on the rear wall of the stage, there is no wall decoration at all. Very fitting! I’m sure Chairman Mao would have approved of these interior design choices.

More people trail in with cigarettes in hand to thicken the air and help out the lights. Several non-Chinese as well and I notice shopping bags and other tourist paraphernalia like maps, cameras and a Mandarin phrase book tucked in one of the girl’s coat pocket.

In this case and without being able to hear the language being spoken above the pounding pop music, I think can safely identify this small group as “foreigners.” I am careful about using this word as a result of the large ex-pat community here and the possibility that many non-Chinese people may have been born and bred here, not to mention the biracial community that is often mistaken as foreign in their own country.

I return my gaze to the stage that is outfitted with a shiny new “Canopus” drum kit (a brand I have never heard of), two Marshall stacks and a Fender twin (electric guitar amps) and an Ampeg bass amp. Traci tells me that all venues are equipped here. Bands don’t need to bring their own amps or drum kits to their shows. Transitions between bands are smooth as a result and the sound is consistent all night.

This makes me think of some venues in Manhattan that offer this level of “backline” (the industry word for equipment provided by the venue or event.) In New York, it’s in response to both limited parking on the streets and limited space in the venue to store three sets of band equipment between sets each night. I’m assuming this is part of the motivation here, as well. Traci is surprised to hear that this is not how it’s done in most parts of North America.

The music begins at about 8:45. This venue starts early to accommodate the average attendees’ dependency on public transit. To get back to Wudaokou from Guloudongdajie on the subway, I would have to leave at 10:40pm on the last northbound yellow line train. That’s impossibly early in most live music circles. Tonight, I can make it if I choose to leave just before the end of the third act and I’m grateful for the option.

The first act is Zhang Tie (pictured in the first photograph), a singer-songwriter in the pop-rock genre with an amazing voice. His band is tight and practiced and the arrangements keep my ears alert. They’re all talented and serious players who handle the diversity between the songs with “mei guanxi” (no problems). The songs range from slow ballads to driving rock riffs and I’m relieved at how much I enjoy his performance and can appreciate the talent on stage.

Zhengtie is Traci’s boyfriend and I’ve heard a lot about him. He is the first fellow artist in China that I have met here. I have been invited to jam and hang out with his friends this coming week and this will hopefully lead me closer to my research goals with this trip re: women in music in China.

It starts with one contact and leads to a community.

The second group was a hard rock and reggae infused band called Ma Ya. They were highly entertaining and got the crowd dancing and excited. Some of the riffs were daring and original with melodic bass lines and shifting time signatures.

Finally, the night ended with Bu Yi whose mixture of rock and traditional folk was moving and beautiful. The drummer, an amazing backing vocalist as well, even stopped playing during a breakdown section and played a melodica in harmony with the electric guitar. The sudden absence of drums and the introduction of a new sound for just twelve bars was a refreshing performance move. The audience held their breath for the section and then went crazy with applause when it ended and the groove resumed.

I gently joked with my new friends about the rock’n roll drama on stage. In fact, in a room that holds at least three hundred people comfortably, there weren’t more than about seventy-five people in attendance. Despite the low attendance, the rock moves were in full form. There wasn’t a droplet of energy lost in response to low numbers, which I respect and appreciate from the fan’s perspective. Still, my friend’s response was: “Well, that’s so Chinese. This is the Chinese rock scene!” I’m not sure what that means, but my cheeky response was lost in the screaming amplifiers: “I wonder if the moves make you rock harder?”

When the last band ended, it was only eleven o’clock. The crowd spilled out onto the sidewalk and gathered in small overlapping circle to smoke and chat and to eventually be carried off by the constant stream of cabs. I exchanged mobile numbers with my new friends and waved goodbye after promises to get together for jams, gear shopping and language exchange conversation. Zhengtie even loaned me his acoustic guitar for my show this Sunday.

Oh, did I forget to mention that I have a gig on Sunday? It’s at a venue called Yugong Yishan. I’m doing a solo opening set before a Chinese folk-rock act. I landed the gig during my first few days here after meeting Traci who promptly introduced me to the venue’s booking rep. In fact, I will be performing again at the same venue on May 23rd. Be on the lookout for some brief gig reports for any of you travellers who happen to also be performers!

My first experience with live music in China was fantastic. Of course, it won’t be my last!

A Canadian In Beijing: Piddly-Squat

by Ember Swift on
I know squats are good for me. They’re assigned in most aerobic workouts and they’re apparently my ticket to a more shapely behind. Still, I had forgotten that I’d be practicing this movement several times a day in China.

In 2001, Lyndell and I spent five days in Hong Kong on a stopover from Sydney to Toronto. That was my first introduction to the “squat-and-pee” style latrines in Asian countries. I didn’t mind them then and I don’t mind them now.

My knees mind them.

I’m hoping that after three months of this activity, I will no longer hear the crunch of my cartilage against bone as I squat to relieve my jasmine-tea-filled bladder.

Urinating in this position is actually healthier for your body than the western toilet. I learned this many years ago and understood squatting to be better for the bladder’s optimal drainage versus sitting which doesn’t enable one’s bladder to fully empty itself. This then puts more strain on the body to relieve itself more regularly, hence keeping this organ working overtime on a perpetual basis. (This company bases its whole product on these findings. Check out this image for a good laugh!)

I must say that they take some getting used to, however. Remembering to bring your own toilet paper is a must and no paper is deposited into the holes but instead is placed in the uncovered wastebasket provided. Sometimes this can be a smelly collection and I’ve found that holding one’s breath is the best solution. All in all, I’m then working my squats AND my lungs. Surely that’s exercise!

My room at the university and most modern hotels and shopping centres also offer western-style toilets. As Beijing continues to grow and accommodate travellers, more and more western-style toilets are available. Still, the toilet paper rule applies. In this way, they are keeping miles and miles of sewers free of foreign material and just filled with organic waste.

Now if Beijing would only start a humanure project! With this massive population, I’m sure the city’s many coal-driven energy systems could be replaced by the methane, combustion or fertilization possible via human waste.

But, I won’t hold my breath for that one!

A Canadian in Beijing: Righteous Bikes

by Ember Swift on

The thing about bicycles in Beijing is that they’re fearless, they’re everywhere, they’re irreverent and they’re their own characters. I know that it’s people who ride these bikes, but there seems to be a network of bikes themselves, like a secret society of Beijing bikes that meet at “koumen” (intersections) at all hours of the day to discuss how to better rule the roads. You can almost see them greeting each other in passing.

They’re as alive as this city.

I could write about cycling in Beijing for days. I’m sure this will be one of many posts on the subject. I’ve been observing the clambering chaos between pedestrians, bicycles and cars and after one week I have come to the following conclusion: bikes are in still in front.

They win the power struggle every time because they have the right to both abide by traffic laws and reject them. They seem to have no regulation whatsoever. All in all, the bikes of Beijing are anarchists.

Righteous.A Beijing bike can be seen in the bike lane (and there are a few, though cars and pedestrians often use these lanes too) or in the thick of the streets with the cars and trucks — even turning left in front of oncoming traffic. They hop up on sidewalks when it suits them and ride backwards against traffic when they don’t feel like crossing at the light. All in all, the bicycles are ever-present pedaling powerhouses.

And some are rickety and some are slick. Some are small and can be folded up (I love those!) and some are huge with giant trailers attached for large loads. In fact, these are the ones that I keep photographing because they’re so different from the bikes I know at home. I love how they can be loaded up with giant piles of unrecognizable stuff and still be upright and rolling confidently. Most of these big ones have three wheels, which helps with said confidence.

Now, the only ones I’ve ever seen that look like these are the ones that are quietly used by seniors at my Grandmother’s retirement village in Florida! Obviously they’re related to these bikes, but they haven’t really experienced the urban thrill of takeover. We need to free those Florida counterparts into the cityscape of the future!!

Yesterday I went downtown to search out some music equipment and to explore yet another downtown Beijing area. I was walking along East Gulouda when a bike passed me that was carrying two (yes two!) large leather easy chairs on its wide back. They were piled high and together like two L-shaped pieces of a Tetris game expertly placed. They were strapped together and to the bike itself. Nothing was teetering.

It was breathtaking.

I would even venture to say that it was beautiful; a beautiful example of invention, maneuvering and physics. Not for the faint at heart and truly for the cycling faithful. I grabbed my camera and tried to snap a shot but it was moving too fast. I missed it, but here is an image of another similarly laden bicycle. Differently stacked but equally awesome.

Bicycles are the main work vehicles here. Street cleaning happens from a bicycle and so, too, does street vending and small-scale commercial shipping.

Street cleaners have tools hanging from their bikes like brooms and shovels (pictured). They collect waste in the bike’s container as they move along. Most vendors selling food or other material do so from the back of a bike, and usually with a Aussie “Ute” style flat bed back to enable optimal viewing of merchandise.

Finally, bikes are also used as shipping vehicles. Here’s an image on one carrying several flats of “pijiu” or bottles of beer. This is one step up from the urban couriers of Toronto who mostly just carry small packages and written material.

I’m impressed.

All of these work bikes are the big ones too. These big-load bikes here seem like the ring leaders of the anarchist bike league. They’re the chiefs, the captains, the head honchos, the bigwigs, er. . . wheels. They lumber into intersections and are all the more fearless as a result of their size. The other bikes part and then fill in the wake of their passing like small fish do for whales.

Besides the hierarchy of might and manner, I have to mention the bikes at rest. They are everywhere, especially outside of the subway stops. Locks are also not very common. Those that are locked are only locked to themselves (and generally not to any permanent fixture) and they are mostly the newer bikes. The older ones are left to fend for themselves.

All in all, it’s a lonely pile of metal half standing, half lying on large sections of sidewalk in such a density that it’s difficult to distinguish one from the other. How do people locate their bikes after work? Your guess is as good as mine. In fact, I have an Australian friend here who said that she thought her bike was stolen until she found it three weeks later outside of the subway stop. I laughed out loud when I heard that because I can so imagine it.

This is an image of the bikes outside of my building. Just seeing this gathering of wheels makes me feel left out. I need a bike! I already looked into the prices and brand new ones are only about $80-$100 Canadian. Of course, there’s no reason for me to get a brand new bike, so I’ll be seeking an old one for a few kuai. Rust and squeaks are fine with me! I won’t be going quickly here – I’ll be too busy taking it all in as I join the pace of these living, breathing streets.

I can’t wait. I’m being beckoned by the bikes of Beijing. It’s a street-style revolution and I’m hopping on for the ride.

If you’re considering bringing your own bike to this city from afar, don’t bother. Bike theft, especially of foreign bikes, is apparently a huge problem here. Check out the link below for more information.