#23: October 2022
#23: October 2022
the best Mandopop of the month from J-Fever, Zhou Shijue, and Eddie Beatz's conversational rap to pop-rock synths to lush fantasy dream pop
When they tell a history of Chinese rap, they typically don’t stray too far from where it is now. It goes like this: in 2015, the Higher Brothers formed somewhere in Sichuan and rap, trap especially, takes off around two of Sichuan’s largest cities, Chengdu and Chongqing. It’s partially bolstered by the relaxed attitude and language of the region but then rap goes national as the government decides it could be used as a tool for propaganda or whatever. An oversimplification of course, as so many rap scenes had been developing across China but for better or for worse, rap has pervaded China’s rap scene: it’s topped the stage on seasons and seasons of rap reality TV, it’s become of a technique for pop artists to use. It’s become pop. There’s a whole host of literature on how rap has become a vehicle for cultural delivery.
This isn’t about that. Instead, this is about J-Fever, and his latest album, 去爱去哭去疑惑 (To Love, To Cry, To Doubt). A decade before trap had even taken off in Chengdu, rap was mostly an underground genre. It started mostly as a fascination of Western rap—the same way ordinary pedestrians would take to karaoke-ing their favourite ballads, wannabe rappers would take to karaoke-ing their favourite rappers, eventually evolving into an underground scene of rappers who would take to freestyle battles. Rap was the counterculture and the Higher Brothers’ success was the outlier. The same year the group formed, Beijing rap trio in3 were arrested and blacklisted from the industry.
Amidst all this is J-Fever, a rapper who loved freestyle and seems utterly unconcerned with whatever else was happening around him in the rap scene. Take for example, “我爷爷的爷爷的爷爷的船” (“My Grandpa’s Grandpa’s Grandpa’s Boat”) off of his 2014 album, 一定是爆炸了么? (Does It Have to Be an Explosion?). It’s as easy a point of access to J-Fever’s music as any other. Chinese-American producer Soulspeak’s production is a space adventure, a tinge of electric guitar that lets J-Fever’s rap take focus as he spirals about. Here, he’ll touch on the societal but linger on the personal. But most importantly though, he’ll engage in absolute nonsense. On a line that sets up a something of a meaningful comparison—“compared to lawyers, journalists, writers, bankers”—he derails himself, a long list of jobs that just ends with a “insurance workers—be careful! careful? there’s no danger, where’s the safety, I almost died in a fire” Its hook is made up of a bizarrely made nursery rhyme and while its title sounds like it could come from some big-picture idea, it ends up with a pointless circle that zooms out then immediately zooms back in: “I really am my grandpa’s grandpa’s grandpa’s grandson’s grandson’s grandson.”
J-Fever’s largely operated this way for the past decade, becoming more ambitious in the process. There’s of course an intelligence to the nonsense—J-Fever wouldn’t have made it this far if there wasn’t. 2019’s 北京吗? (Beijing?), produced once again by Soulspeak, attempts to detail the disposition of the city and gets there best when it pulls references, such as namedropping the closing of a famed venue or recalling the specifics of Beijing’s underground rock scene, with references to The Sex Pistols, and The Cure. But importantly it doesn’t abandon the rambling, it doesn’t diminish the sense of humour that made J-Fever such a captivating figure. His ideas can sometimes be polarizing, leaving listeners caught between this side of his more poetic ramblings and his innate silliness. Following 北京吗? is 带上耳机就看见了 (Put On Earphones and You’ll See), an album of ASMR ramblings.
J-Fever’s largely operated within the same format. A combination of his own conscious rap style, most often floated above spacey production by Soulspeak or Chinese producer Eddie Beatz’s more jazzy production. He nonsensically coasts across them, mostly freestyle rapping about himself but occasionally growing more ambitious in the process. On Strangers to Shanghai, he details his experience as a foreigner to the city—produced by Tang Renti and featuring Shanghai vocalist ChaCha (also known as YEHAIYAHAN), Strangers to Shanghai doesn’t completely abandon his cartoonish instincts even as he dips deeper into its concepts. “Family Mart” is part jingle even as he grapples with his own foreignness in what he describes as a “sound film.”
Despite J-Fever’s tendency for isolation, last year’s 心愈频率 (Heart-Healing Frequency) required the addition of raps by Zhou Shijue to really shape his understanding of home as he found himself stranded in Japan at the height of the pandemic. On 去爱去哭去疑惑, he brings the same collaborators back, with additional rap by Zhou Shijue and production by Eddie Beatz, but this time narrows the distance. It’s an album made in close quarters, the trio flying out to Dali and spending a little over a week writing and recording together. Here, J-Fever seems to stumble into completely new territory. Parts are the same tricks he’s pulled in the past—like the whistled melody and the gasped vocals on the opener—but by narrowing the distance between J-Fever and Zhou Shijue, Eddie Beatz pieces 去爱去哭去疑惑 together as a friendly conversation.
Conversation is best exemplified on “我懂你的意思” (“I Understand What You Mean”), despite the fact that it feels like each is embroiled in different ideas. The closest they get is on a pair of lines: “lost brothers and sisters, I’ve been searching for you for a long time,” Zhou Shijue raps, to which J-Fever responds in quick succession: “because I’ve changed beyond recognition.” “I understand what you mean,” J-Fever raps, before the two drift into quiet, Eddie Beatz filling the rest of the space with someone else’s quiet singsong voices.
The space for freestyle is often left lonesome to the point where a second rapper makes the space a battle but here, it’s warm company, even if the two aren’t always on the same page. Company grows on its back half with a string of guests, all adding to its lively hearth: Shi Xinwenyue’s R&B, Voision Xi’s vocal jazz, Fishdoll’s electronic production and mumblings. The greatest sign of growth comes from “财富自由之后呢” (“After Financial Freedom”). Chants in the background feel like a small drunken pub sing-along: “we’ll be born soon, we don’t want to do anything / we’ll grow up soon, we can’t do anything.” After a career of loneliness, this feels like the closest J-Fever has ever strayed to capturing a real societal perspective instead of just his own personal one. 去爱去哭去疑惑—the warm jazz, the soft R&B, the conversational rap—is the closest he’s come to finding a home in his small scene.
You can find J-Fever’s newest album on Spotify and Youtube, though unfortunately, it’s not available on Apple Music.
Unrelated to Mandopop but I reviewed Sobs’ Air Guitar for Pitchfork! One of the most joyous things about music discovery is delving into a scene, in this case, Singapore’s indie rock scene. Hopefully more on another one very soon.
For this month’s issue, I wrote about the new album from Goatak, as well as singles from WeiBird and Lala Hsu, Jerry Li, and Sweet John and waa wei. I’ve got two more issues planned for the rest of the year: one later this month with some of the highlights of this half of the year’s Cantopop and for next month’s regular issue I’ll probably do something similar to last year, covering a range of stuff from another year, along with a reader’s poll. We’ll see how it goes!
Albums
Goatak - BeLiving
“A lot of people think emo rap is a genre, but I think this perspective is a bit limited. To me, emo is a psychological state which can convey someone’s innermost feelings.” It’s a pretty noble sentiment Goatak uses to describe his debut EP on major label Rock Records, even if the rest of his EP ends up sounding…exactly like what you’d expect an emo rap record to sound like. Not an impressive one at that, the instrumental is often dull and the performances—where Goatak jumps down an octave whenever he seems to remember to—sound like the process of someone trying to figure out their voice. But it’s a noble sentiment nonetheless, one that seems to set up his debut album.
On BeLiving, Goatak frames the emo-ness as a perspective, taking a kaleidoscope approach to display that sentiment. But this time, he paints it as a sort of way of taking the emo out of your life. An album that contains the start of a realization of something resembling an understanding of self-worth, even if it occasionally moves in reverse. Opener “Imperfect” hands you that from the get-go: its opening ambience filters into the sound of a heart ripped open as Goatak attempts to reason its repair. “I think it’s time to leave, accidentally trapped myself deep again,” he sings before changing his mind on the chorus: “the imperfect her,” he smooths over, not an emotive combat but a well-reasoned statement.
Back and forth, BeLiving walks a dangerous relationship that’s sometimes over, sometimes in the middle of an episode that leaves him paralyzed in defeat. On the pop-punk lead single “Feeling Good,” Goatak characterizes it as a painful cycle: “you break me down again and again, repeat the cycle over and over.” There’s a realization in there somewhere of someone who knows they deserve something better but haven’t quite figured out how to get there. He seems to ignore it, chanting its title beside its violence, possibly as a way to convince himself to keep going. “She Don’t Know” describes it as “trapped in a whirlpool, you and me in love.” Beautiful so long as you ignore the surroundings, something he becomes adept at throughout the album.
Goatak explores genre much more here than he did on his singular emo-rap debut. “I Still Love You” does the emo trap stint properly, a sincere scream as he can’t help but miss something he knows to be long broken, but “She Don’t Know” is glintzy new wave, replete with a fist-pumped “she don’t know she is beautiful.” “Faith” carries its cliche mask on an electric guitar line, while tepid tempo aside, the title track maintains its sense of life through its ‘80s pop-rock instrumental. Despite its myopic vision, Goatak can always be counted on for a perfect slice of pop-rock: spirited punky vocal performances, a satisfying electric guitar riff, or a captivating gated reverb drum.
BeLiving doesn’t really convey the idea that emo-rap isn’t a genre, instead stepping completely out of it, while sticking within a similar headspace. It can’t shake its fear of loneliness. “Feeling Good” hangs onto a relationship even as it details the mutual pain and other tracks put words like “I still love you” and “I miss you” at the forefront as if to erase relationship imperfections. “Imperfect,” then, is the only track that feels real in that respect, a brutal examination that might smooth things over but still cracks everything open. “You’ll open your eyes and see the imperfect me with both hands shivering,” Goatak yelps. The voice crack seems to suggest he’s caught himself just as off-guard with the statement like he considered hiding it along with the rest, but it’s something real and raw amidst a chorus of one of the few things he got right.
Find it on streaming here: Apple Music // Spotify
Singles: “Feeling Good” // “I Still Love You” // “I’m Missing You”
Singles
WeiBird - “Long Distance (feat. Lala Hsu)”
What makes Good Afternoon, Good Evening and Goodnight such a delight is the change in guitar playing. All of the drive behind “Most Important Person in the World” feels like it comes through guitarist Cheng Yang Chung’s forceful strum and while “Long Distance” is quieter, it’s no less exploratory. Co-composer HAOR provides acoustic guitar and you can feel the sense of someone attempting to make the most of what they have as his fingers audibly slide up and down its strings. David Ke’s lyrics might touch upon the lonely details but WeiBird and Lala Hsu make romance in the distance.
Jerry Li - “Nice Seeing You”
“Nice seeing you!” Li sings, code-switching from the more formal Mandarin to Taiwanese. Perhaps that’s just an imagined response that Jerry Li wishes he had said, something that would have made the connection feel more familiar. The instrumental seems to beat him up for not saying more and the rest of “Nice Seeing You” is an act of fading in and out of the crowd, of his own consciousness, until Li’s left there in its psychedelic outro, wondering if you can also feel the love.
Sweet John - “Accidentally in Love (feat. waa wei)”
The centre of Sweet John’s third album, In Mind, sonically, thematically, and well, literally, “Accidentally in Love” is a dream pop fantasy. was Wei’s no stranger to dream pop but Sweet John still smooth over some of Can Chen’s more Mather tendencies to keep her comfortable. Apart from simmering harmonies and giving the instrumental a bit more attention—like those warning drums before her introduction—“Accidentally in Love” isn’t too far off from “OOPS,” was Wei’s one-off single earlier this year.
The trio of vocalists—Sweet John’s Genwie Wu and Mandark along with waa wei—come together like a foreboding meeting before the outro: “you are a blooming jasmine in June, people can’t help but whisper as they pass by.” Although they profess their eternal love through the symbolism of the flower, there’s danger in second part of the statement. Whether the issue comes from the pair of lovers or from the shadows, the trio never answers, Sweet John and waa wei disregard the complications. This is a love that’s fortuitous, that’s worthy of a cinematic appraisal, but most importantly, that’s “our secret,” buried here in hushed harmonies and a lush fantasy of an instrumental.
Find the latest Canto Wrap and Mando Gap playlists on Spotify and me on Twitter here.