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.

To ring in the Spring Festival, we have done a bit of Spring cleaning here at Laonei. And it’s about time; the old version was more about being ‘老’ than it was about being ‘内.’ Anyhow, we threw out some of the old features that weren’t up to our quality standards and we added a few new features. A new design was used to improve the overall feel of Laonei as well. 

We hope the new version is easier to use, more useful, and more aesthetically pleasing. While we have made tons of changes to the site, not everything is perfect and we still have plans to make the site even better in the near future. Help us find any bugs that have slipped by our overworked IT team! We have cool prizes (see picture below) for any awesome Laoneis that help us find bugs!!! 

Happy New Year from the whole Laonei Team!

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…

Merry Mart supermarket (美廉美 - měi lián měi) is officially Beijing’s first supermarket to be sued over their background music. Some workers from the Music Copyright Society of China (音乐著作权协会 - yīnyuè zhùzuòquán xiéhuì) brought along a small recording device to show that Merry Mart was infringing copyright law by playing Candlelit Mama (烛光里的妈妈) by 毛阿敏, a sappy song about a mother and daughter growing old.

The Music Copyright Society of China demanded 10,000 yuan for usage of the song and 6000 yuan for legal costs. Unfortunately for them, the judges in the HaiDian court only made Merry Mart pay 500 yuan for using the song and 1700 for legal fees.

This may have been the first supermarket targeted by copyright crimefighters, but it wont be the last. In the midst of piracy and copyright issues popping up in China, there are sure to be more legal battles like this in the future.

And, for your listening pleasure, Candlelit Mama with lyrics! Enjoy!

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妈妈我想对您说，
话到嘴边又咽下，
妈妈我想对您笑，
眼里却点点泪花。
噢妈妈，烛光里的妈妈，
您的黑发泛起了霜花，
噢妈妈，烛光里的妈妈，
您的脸颊印着这多牵挂。
噢妈妈，烛光里的妈妈，
您的腰身倦得不再挺拔，
噢妈妈，烛光里的妈妈，
您的眼睛为何失去了光华，
妈妈呀，女儿已长大，
不愿意牵着您的衣襟走过春秋冬夏。
噢妈妈，烛光里的妈妈，
您的腰身倦得不再挺拔，
噢妈妈，烛光里的妈妈，
您的眼睛为何失去了光华，
妈妈呀，女儿已长大，
不愿意牵着您的衣襟走过春秋冬夏。
噢妈妈相信我，
女儿自有女儿的报答。
噢妈妈相信我，
女儿自有女儿的报答。

Links & Sources:

• The Beijing News - 新京报
• Merry Mart
• Music Copyright Society of China

It’s ice skating season in Beijing and there’s one more excuse not to stay inside huddled around your coal-burning stove and get outside for some frosty fun!

But, unfortunately, last winter was officially the last year that the frozen ice on Shichahai (什刹海) wasn’t completely commodified and closed to the non-paying public. The days of strapping on your skates and skating to your heart’s content without forking over a bundle of cash are over. Now, all areas of the lake (后海，前海, etc.) are only accessible if you buy tickets, which run from 10 to 15 kuai.

It’s not that the extra money you have to pay to get on the ice is unbearable. But it is disheartening that where there is money to be made, fences and ticket-checkers will be in abundance. Last year, if you had skates or just wanted to go for a walk on the ice, the frozen lake was open to the public, as it should be.

But, for now, there are still places to go to skate on free, non-groomed ice. Head on over to BeiDa or the Summer Palace. But hurry…you never know when the fences and ticket-checkers will appear.

You can be sure they didn't have to pay