While the Chinese Net Nanny has ensured that accessing Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and even Danwei is nearly impossible, there is one site that might make you feel lucky to be surfing the web in China: Google.cn.

Following in the steps of Baidu, Google has jumped on the free music bandwagon, offering downloads to users in China only. But Google has avoided the possibility of Baidu-like lawsuits by teaming up with the big record labels that will get a share of the advertising pie. However, this situation is less than ideal for both Google and the record companies. Forbes said the “music industry’s decision to turn over their catalogs in exchange for a share of such a measly new revenue stream illustrates the desperation of record labels in China.” And you can be sure Google is making the move to increase their 29% share of the Chinese market.

Whenever Google does something, they do it big and do it right. Google China offers more than a million songs from both Chinese and foreign artists. Google’s interface looks much better than Baidu’s and is easier to use too. Searching songs on Baidu will bring up a huge list of stuff you don’t want, whereas Google has more relevant search results and displays whole albums that can be added to playlists or downloaded directly. But the best thing about Google’s free downloads is the speed; you can download an album faster than you can find what you’re looking for on Baidu.

Links & Sources:

Google China Music Homepage

New York Times: Google and Music Labels Bet on Downloads in China

Wall Street Journal: Keep An Eye On Baidu’s Competition

Summer is in full swing and it’s time to pull out your swim cap and mankini and head out to one of Beijing’s fine swimming establishments. Here’s our list of the best places to swim in town.

Tuanjiehu Park Swimming Pool

Just south of the Tuanjiehu subway stop, this is for all you Chaoyangers with no time to get out of the city. It can get quite crowded, but the more people the better your chances of seeing a suit that requires a Brazilian wax. There’s a small “beach” and a decent sized pool, as well as a couple water slides. They also sell chuan’r and cold drinks. They are open until August 31.

25 RMB. 10:30am - 7:30pm.

Inside Tuanjiehu Park, 16 Tuanjiehu Nanli, Chaoyang District. (8597 4677)

Qingnianhu Waterworld

Inside Qingnianhu Park (青年湖公园) and right outside the 2nd Ring Road, Waterworld has four different pools totalling 3000 square meters. There’s lap swimming as well as kiddie pools. And with a capacity of 1200 and 4 water slides, it’s the best bet for those living in near the center of town. Open until the end of August.

20 RMB. 9:00am - 7:00pm.

Inside Qingnianhu Park, Andingmenwai, Dongcheng District. (8411 6321)

Crab Island

At 60,000 square meters, it dwarfs any other water park in town and boasts the biggest man made beach in all of China. The slides, sand, waves, cocktails, barbeque and free sun umbrellas will make Crab Island a super swimming experience. Expect a good time, but not state of the art! Plus there are some other cool things to check out like hot springs and a science center.

60 RMB. 9:00am - 10:00pm

1 Xiedao Lu, City Seaview (Haijing), (near Lido Ho, Chaoyang (84339689)

Water Cube

Good news for people who want have a swimming experience in the Water Cube…the warm-up pool is now open to public swimmers. People who want to swim there have to get a health check and a deep certificate before entering the pool.
Open Thursday to Sunday, 2 pm to 7 pm until October.

50 RMB for two hours.

Supergirl Li Yuchun (李宇春) is taking a Chongqing advertising agency to court over the unauthorized use of her portrait in a One Child Policy poster.

Seen in Shizhu county (石柱县) in Chongqing, the Supergirl’s portrait appears under the slogans “Boys are just as good as girls” and “Girls also continue the family line.” Already seen as sexually ambiguous in the public eye, she has been ridiculed on the web for appearing overly boyish. But as far as whether the ad agency promoting the campaign had malign intentions is being debated on the web. Some think the “designers” purposely put Ms. Li on the poster to poke fun and make some sort of underhanded statement.

But after examining the poster, it seems much more likely that it was the result of hasty photoshop work rather than malicious designers trying to damage the image of Li Yuchun. What the agency should be sued for is their lack of creativity, not image rights infringement.

Links & Sources

• ifeng
• joy.cn

The four-piece band, Battles, are lined up to play a kick-ass show at Mao Live House on March 27th. Playing a strange, but stellar sonic synthesis of math-rock, jazz-fusion, and cyber-metal, Battles will be sure to show up the local opening band, PK-14. The Battles’ line-up includes ex-Helmet drummer John Stanier, ex-Don Caballero guitarist Ian Williams, ex-Lynx guitarist Dave Konopka, and Tyondai Braxton, who works wonders on the warped, chilling vocals.

This show is sure to be as good as their last album, Mirrored, which is a masterpiece. Pitchfork dealt out a 9.1 (rather generous for their standards) for the album and said that “what makes Mirrored’s merry melodies really stand out isn’t the crazy quilt structures or needlepoint precision of the playing. It’s the frenzied gibberish of Braxton’s pitch-shifted and electronically processed vocals– a kind of ecstatic robot that’s speaking in cartoon tongues.”

Show info:

Friday, March 27 @ 9 pm

Mao Live House 111 Drumtower Avenue, East Dongcheng District (鼓楼东大街111号)

What do you think when you hear the word ‘hot springs?’ An idyllic mountain-side setting with natural hot springs heated by subterranean volcanic activity? Me too. But, here in Beijing, there are only hot springs with Chinese characteristics.

We arrived at a building big enough to house the entire Boeing 747 plant. It seemed that it was commonplace to the Chinese visitors of this ‘hot spring,’ but I stood there, jaw agape, wondering which overblown casino in Las Vegas the architect was trying to outdo. This was Xanadu, Atlantis, The Great Hall of The People, and The Forbidden City all wrapped in one enormous tribute to the Chinese Water Gods. But somehow this escaped the Chinese patrons of Hot Spring Leisure City (温都水城).

The men strolled in with their uber-tight, boxer brief swimwear ready to be treated like the emperor himself. The women, mostly in unsightly one piece swimsuits lingered in the steaming hot pools filled with various Chinese medicinal herbs. But there was something for everyone at Leisure City.

A gargantuan wave pool was filled with swimcapped youth that flailed about as the miniature waves crashed into them. When they turned off the wave-making machine there was lap swimming for the few patrons that learned how to do a little more than doggy paddle. Towering above the massive wave pool was an impressive, yet dangerous looking jungle gym that was off limits that day, perhaps as a result of an gory injury the day before. On the other side of the pool were two rather impressive water slides: The Space Bowl and the Rafter’s Plunge! Neither were open for any extended amount of time, as the lifeguards seemed too lazy or too few to babysit the hordes of unacquainted water-slide goers. But these slides were definitely up to par. The Space Bowl left me with raspberries on my arms from the high speed friction, but was definitely worth it as I was shot out of tube into a bowl that had me spinning around 3 or 4 times before plunging into the pool below.

To get to the ‘hot springs’ one had to pass through a corridor lined with subpar Chinese fare. And upon entering the hot spring zone, a hard-to-place scent of cigarettes smoke, Chinese herbs and vinegar penetrated my nostrils. The walls were made of faux stalactites and lined with a jungle of plastic trees. In the center of the complex was the sole outdoor hot spring sheltered by a bamboo roof and surrounded by the intense humming sound of ventilation fans. The hot springs were exactly that, hot! Soaking in any one of the tubs was intense to say the least. There were dozens of chubby men with neck to toe lobster-red skin, an obvious sign they were hardcore hot tubbers.

The second floor, just above all of the hot spring action, was the place everyone went to escape the heat and be pampered. There were massive massage lounges, TCM therapy rooms, happy ending parlors, and ‘quiet rooms’ with personal TVs and soft, white electronically reclining lazyboys. There was nothing this place didn’t have. There were even discount cards worth up to 100,000 RMB for the hot spring fanatic.

All in all, Hot Spring Leisure City is the place to be if you have a bit of money to spend and want to soak the day away. And leave the LSD at home because you can get a Hunter S. Thomson-like experience here without the use of mind altering drugs.

I had seen this guy on TV before, but never really noticed exactly what he did until I came upon Crossing the River (guò hé-过河), a musical skit about a woman reluctantly taking her pint-sized suitor named  Gāo fēng (高峰) across the river. Seriously one of the coolest skits I’ve seen, it is a performance style called èr rén zhuàn (二人转), where a man and a woman sing, dance, and have dialogues (which sometimes get a little racy).

Like the 二人转 skit-style, Pan Changjiang originates from Northeast China and has been called the Mr. Bean of China, though far more verbose. He is multi-talented, having been in several feature films and dozens of skits and music videos. He sings and dances well too. The skit 过河 has a fun song and dance (below) where the woman tests 高峰 on his knowledge of farm life to see whether he is suitable for marriage or not. Pan’s character comes up with witty answers to all of the questions, and finally insulting his questioner.

Other good clips of Pan Changjiang:

双簧 (Super funny clip of 赵本山 and 潘长江)

好人好梦 (Pan Changjiang and his daughter sing a duet)

过河 Original version

过河 Flash version

Kuaiban (快板) is a literary art form accompanied by a rhythm produced by the lyricist himself. Like a beat-boxer and MC all in one, 快板 is Chinese hip hop, not to be confused with the guys walking around in baggy pants with a vague sense of rhythm and poor lyricism.

I watched in absolute amazement as the Kuai Ban master tapped out complex rhythms and recited a story that must have taken ages to commit to memory. The rhythm follows the story line with the nuances and crescendoes of an orchestra, bringing the story to life like modern hip hop rarely does.

From a Western perspective Kuai Ban is mysterious. It doesn’t adhere to any strict time signature, or even tempo for that matter. Each stanza is a different length than the previous and following one. Almost like spoken word, where artists stray from the predictable 4/4 rhythm that we are all so used to, Kuai Ban is free. Rather than starting from a beat, like hip hop does, Kaui Ban is based on the lyrical content and the mood it creates. The rhythm serves as punctuation. It is the period and comma, semicolon even. But it is more than that. It is a display of years of hard work and practice.

Picking up a set of paiban (拍板) for the first time will give you a real sense of respect for the Kuaiban master. For someone that prides themselves in understanding rhythm fairly well, the paiban flopped around like a spastic fish dying in my hands. For now, I will resign myself to being a fan, not a participant.

Mr. Wu has had no training and has managed to make dozens of robots from scrap parts! Amazing!

Nietzsche once wrote, “Without music life would be a mistake.” But I would like to humbly make an addition: Without creative music life would be a mistake.

I may be fatalist and pessimistic, but I have given up on Chinese music. Perhaps I should be more clear. I have given up on a Chinese music industry that churns out pretty faces that only sing love ballads and shun real musicians that push the boundaries of musicianship.

It wasn’t always this way. A few talented, edgy, creative musicians came on the scene and started to get pretty big. There was a glimmer of hope with the raw, gritty, thoroughly-Chinese rock (he plays a gu zheng on stage!) of 谢天笑 (XTX). Then there was the kitschy, upbeat, electro-disco-punk-rock of New Pants (新裤子). And there was Hedgehog (刺猬), with catchy hooks and perhaps the cutest little drummer ever. But there is no hope for acts like these in the Chinese music industry. As big as they seem to be, I’ll bet all of the RMB in my wallet that they all have day jobs.

These diamonds in the rough weren’t enough to give me faith in the Chinese music scene. There are far too many cookie-cutter Ken and Barbie’s with glorified KTV resumes dominating the music industry. The songs they sing are an endless stream of pop love ballads that are hardly distinguishable from one another. With a knack for singing, that’s all they are: singers. There is a fundamental difference between a singer and a musician. Singers sing, musicians make music.

Talking with a Chinese friend about this phenomenon, 王力宏, the ABC-Chinese-Taiwanese pop superstar came up. My friend said, “He writes his own songs,” as if it was an amazing feat. Amazing feat it may be, but citing a New York-born, Berklee College of Music grad to save the face of the whole Chinese music scene is a stretch to say the least.

The simple fact is that the few original, creative musicians in China are being overshadowed and cast out by the music industry that puts lip-syncing pin-up dolls on every TV channel. Not once on Chinese television have I seen a real band playing real music, excluding those 12 girls and the folks that play the Beijing Opera jams (though I have seen bands pretending to play their instruments…imagine that). For now, any musicians with potential are relegated to inaccessible record labels or semi-obscure websites.

So I’ll remain pessimistic, but in the meantime, turn off your TV, dig through underground music, and let me know if anything comes up…