#11: October 2021
#11: October 2021
the best Mandopop of the month from a ranking of the NINE PERCENT members' best singles, some spaced-out R&B and a pop-rock protest against involution
When the Chinese entertainment industry produced NINE PERCENT, it was a bit of an experiment. They took a format that had been enormous in the South Korean industry and brought it into the country, hoping the payoff would be just as big. There were indicators that would lead them to believe it: the everlasting popularity of music competition series and music through television but also the rising popularity of “little fresh meat” or young male idols. And yet, the producers were cautious. NINE PERCENT had contracts that lasted a mere eighteen months, spending much of that promotional period individually, leading fans to complain about the lack of a vision.
But NINE PERCENT were still huge. Their album sales were enormous and while their performance as a group might not really be representative of what the current C-pop scene looks like now, the fame carried over. Each former member is huge in the scene and each has launched a somewhat successful solo career in the process. Two years post-disbandment, and the nine members—KUN, Chen Linong, Adam Fan, Justin, Evan Lin, Theo Zhu, Boogie, Lil Ghost, and Azora Chin—are arguably making bigger waves than they ever could have as a group.
For their part, NINE PERCENT is evidence of both how artists and fans alike buy into fandoms. Azora Chin’s “启” might have been one of last year’s best ballads, but fans took to it for the way it involved fanbases, the lyrics moving into nonsense labelled as “AZORAland language,” a secret language for them and them only. KUN is perhaps the best evidence of how an artist can capitalize on their fandoms, profiting off fans purchasing multiple copies of his album, seemingly caring less about the product than the idea of supporting their idol.
All of the members have been active across the industry: KUN and Justin have been cast members of variety shows like Keep Running and Great Escape; Chen Linong acted as a mentor on Taiwan’s Dancing Diamond 52 while Lil’ Ghost was a judge on China’s Rap Star; and Adam Fan and Theo Zhu been cast in several hotly anticipated dramas. Like other Chinese idols, they’re expected to do it all, sometimes forcing their music to take a backseat to the rest.
But their music is still interesting, especially in the diversity of what an idol can sound like. Most lean into R&B and hip-hop, while others turn to a more classic pop sound. The best of them are constantly reinventing, changing their sound without losing their identity in the process. Anyway, this is all just a lot of exposition just to rank their best singles:
Adam Fan - “秘密”
NINE PERCENT - “I NEED A DOCTOR”
KUN - “Lover”
Evan Lin - “Turn Off”
Justin - “Angel Love”
Azora Chin - “启”
Boogie - “99”
Chen Linong - “Yogurt Love”
Theo Zhu - “Sink”
Lil Ghost - “Don’t Call Me Da Vinci (Punk Version)”
If you are interested in the world of popular Chinese entertainment outside of music, take a look at what these nine have done: the talent show that built them, the dramas they’ve been cast in, and the variety shows they’ve been participating in. The same applies to other groups built from the Produce series, which are great starting points for exploration.
On this month, we’ve got three EPs that feel like years of realization—demos that carried into a debut and new works in a series of EPs. Check out the best of October:
Albums
Zos - Suitable Tenderness
It’s been two years since the first track from Zos’ EP, “願溫柔的你被世界溫柔以待” (“Hope the World Treats the Gentle of You Kindly”) was released. It sounds like a quiet night in the city, as rare as they might be, with its soft finger-plucked acoustic guitar strings and vocalist Su Hanping’s clear voice coming through. Let’s try again, he seems to ask, and hope the world will treat us as kindly as we treat it. Zos attempt to bring light and life to the night. Around the halfway point, the violin’s melody dances across the track. Later, the glockenspiel’s echoes leave you feeling less lonely, the sounds of the nightlife bustling about. Su even keeps this attitude in its darkest void, when every other instrument fades, luring you out of the lull of the void with his voice alone, later joined by the guitar.
Like its opener, Suitable Tenderness exists at the edge of the night, lulling you in with its kindness in city-shaped acoustic pop. The piano arrangement of “拾” (“Pick Up”) is simple and starry, letting Su’s voice lead until the rest of the band comes in with a glowing crest. It recedes back into the darkness in an instant but leaves you with the warmth of knowing someone is still out there. Suitable Tenderness is like that, constantly lulling you in and asking you to listen closer, only to bring focus to the surrounding noise. There’s more out there, the band seems to say, others who feel the same. Suitable Tenderness isn’t a collection of lullabies, instead, tender songs that gently shake you out of your slump, whether by hanging twinkling lights with its singing violin or chasing the bustling nightlife through the percussion.
Find it on streaming here: Apple Music // Spotify
Singles: “願溫柔的你被世界溫柔以待” // “說夢人 (feat. Bestards’ Kidding)” // “不要回來可不可以”
Osean - Sundial II
On last year’s Sundial, Osean turned inward by its end, not seeming to recognize the reflection he saw in the vast space of his music. He built himself to be a figure of, not quite strength, but something you could lean on in “I’m Here,” where he could pull you close and hold you tight and that would be enough. But left alone in the void, Osean’s sense of self seemed to melt: “I don’t know myself but I sleep with myself every night” he sang on “牧羊” (“Shepherd”) before it pulled him apart, ripping through the words “helpless child in a crowd.”
Sundial II continues musically in the same vein, spacey R&B under the influence, drawing solid guitar lines through liquid electronic textures. But this time around, Osean doesn’t let himself disappear into the same hopeless high of Sundial, retaining the shape even when the lines blur, grounding himself to reality. Perhaps a big part of what grounds Sundial II is how those electronic drums come up a bit, towering like pillars over “Midori,” giving Osean something to rely on. But another part is how he lets himself rely on others more, the partner he asks to remain: “maybe you could play my moon, revolve around this perfect bloom.” Dilated pupils and slurred words, he sinks into “Midori” and all details other than a simple kiss blur into its daze.
The slightly lower intensity of Sundial II’s high lets you see some of the brighter intricacies of Osean’s work while still being able to experience the abstract of its vastness. Interlude “Greenhouse” doesn’t present everything in clarity but shows its shapes and textures in vivid colour, bird chirps and heavy thrums filling its glassy atmosphere. On “懶得進化” (“Too Lazy to Evolve”), a revelation comes to him, floating out from his and The Crane’s lists of plain joy: “I only want two kinds of people in my life, only those that I love, and the people that love me.” It’s a simple idea but it’s filled with the kind of self-care that the Osean of Sundial probably couldn’t have imagined.
Find it on streaming here: Apple Music // Spotify
Singles: “Midori”
Leo1Bee - 4LUV (Collection3)
In an interview with Leo1Bee, the interviewer asks about his project Love, Pity, Relationship: “although there are only two songs on the project, why did it take three years?” A bit of a crude question given that the EP touched on his own depression but Leo1Bee takes it in stride, responding with “mostly because I procrastinated.” But then he gets into it, the decisions that went into the process: whether the vocal should go over or under the drums, which microphone should be used for recording vocals, the painstaking back and forth on whether to keep a buried element. Leo1Bee is an artist who’s constantly tinkering, and so it’s not so surprising that the final piece of his 4(for) trilogy comes along five years after the first.
But Leo1Bee did have a vision for what 4LUV would sound like. Even though the EP wouldn’t materialize for another year, he names it in that same interview and gives the theme of four tracks he had yet to start: love the world, love myself, love my family, and love my girlfriend. 4LUV doesn’t express all of them, dropping love for family, but you do get the sense that he’s no longer just toying with the production but thinking deeply about what he wants to express in his music, especially in the parts related to self-love. Compared to 4FUN and 4RIO, 4LUV might not be as ambitious, but it does express a clearer sense of purpose as it moves across jazz, R&B, and indie-pop.
There’s purpose to what Leo1Bee does, like the help he receives from his friends, smooth vocalist Voision Xi and experimental rapper Zhou Shijue, on “The World” as the trio builds their own community, its smooth jazz spun into something healing. Similarly, he creates warm comfort for a partner, from the acoustic comparison of a lover to the vastness of the universe on “A Star” to Wen Zhaojie joining him to coo in the vibrations of “Cradle.” The cosmos even reveal something about Leo1Bee and the funky R&B of “Shy Boy” turns on the line “tell me what’s on your mind, speaking out and repenting are always slow to do,” constantly shifting in its shapeless form. His confession is crude—he declares himself a “motherfucking shy boy”—but it's the most candid moment across the series. 4(for) moved from music as a source of fun—4FUN ran through everything it could, from metal to blues to R&B to rap—and landed as a product of love, music that was both shy and experimental, that managed to be both bashful and provocative.
Find it on streaming here: Apple Music // Spotify
Singles
NIO - “I Got You Baby (feat. Amuyi & UZ Qin)”
Not “baby” as in the pet name for the person you’ve been seeing for ages but “baby” as in the friend you drunkenly trade a bottle of wine with on the stairs while you pet their head. Both Amuyi and UZ Qin released darker things last year, feeling the need to strut and exhibit caution, but on “I Got You Baby,” they throw themselves a chilled party with NIO. The three support each other the same way any good drunken friend would, advising “don’t worry about what they say, just do what you want to do.” The home party is decorated with vibrant harmonies and forceful ad-libs and even the occasional slice of stupid fun.
HUR - “Weirdo (feat. G5SH)”
HUR’s new album is a cacophony of noise. It’s great. They strike a balance between the poles of the frosty “Need No More” and the whirring “Pain Killer.” And while they’re never not interesting, “Weirdo” is the best that they cohere. The group finds themselves the perfect home in the cosmos of “Weirdo” and G5SH’s production serves the group well, holding them adrift where needed, but also unfurling into a massive surge of noise when the group isn’t. “Weirdo” may not actually get that weird—listen to their album’s best “Gaia” for weird—but HUR nail the part of being alone without you, capturing the exhausting feeling of yearning as they hold steady through G5SH’s cosmic adventure.
see also: G5SH - “Whale”
Eric Chou - “You Don’t Belong to Me”
Netflix’s Taiwanese series More Than Blue: The Series tells you to expect grief from the beginning yet somehow manages to surpass whatever you expected. Only partially about music, it’s anchored by its opening and closing themes, Accusefive’s wandering “Beyond the Sea” and Eric Chou’s “You Don’t Belong to Me” (and later A-Lin’s “More Than Sorrow”). Chou’s always been great at being passive, at unfolding the widest range of emotions in the simplest melodies without acting on desires. He conveys the show’s greatest themes with such ease, observing only, putting the idea that you could be together in a locked box in the back of his mind, and just hoping the other will be happy, his voice a mix of resignation, anguish, and underneath it all, contentment.
Air League - “Anti-Anxiety Guide”
Involution became one of the biggest words in China, as anthropologist Xing Bao puts it: “the experience of being locked in competition that one ultimately knows is meaningless.” For the younger generation, it was, and remains, a constant source of despair, the creeping need to work harder and harder to ensure you’re at the top of everything, working sunrise to sunset until you’ve burnt every last cell, only to look around and feel utterly hopeless. For that generation, everything’s become meaningless—of course, lying flat became a form of protest.
But for Air League, their protest isn’t so passive. They tackle what they think the root of involution is, jealousy, playing with it on the title by swapping the 虑 (lǜ) in 焦虑 (jiāolǜ), meaning anxiety, for 绿 (lǜ), the colour green. And while there’s more involved, the band doesn’t search it out, preferring to enjoy themselves while they can. They scroll through their contact lists and hate themselves for the anger that comes from those doing well, like the cheerful couple down the hall. On the animated chorus, lead singer Tian Hongjie sings “I don’t need to be passive to the service selling anxiety / I won’t participate in this involution business.” “I’m tired!” they shout, praising themselves for their own abilities to say no. “Anti-Anxiety Guide” is simple: 1) don’t compare yourself to others, and 2) let yourself rest. Air League defiantly rejects the overtime to just have fun, slinging their protests over punchy power-pop guitar melodies and beating down the green monster, an act of protest against the nation’s biggest source of burnout.
Find the Mando Gap playlist on Spotify here and me on Twitter here.