#3: February 2021

the best Mandopop of the month from ICECRAZ's volatile rap to relaxed hip-hop to artists unafraid to experiment with the traditional

Happy New Year!

I know New Year’s was… almost a month ago, but if you consider the fact that Chinese New Year celebrations go on for fifteen days, I’m not that late? I thought I’d start by using this space to first talk about a couple of tracks and projects that were produced to celebrate the New Year, things that distinctly rooted themselves in Chinese identity—

—things like ONER’s “满汉全席.” ONER might just be the best idol group in China right now.¹ A lot of this comes down to the fact that idol pop hasn’t been an essential scene within Mandopop as most idol groups simply don’t achieve the longevity required to become well-known established names. It goes back to a market preferring soloists over groups, with most idol groups existing either as temporary vehicles or individual idols finding bigger success as individuals. But ONER are certainly interesting—their vocal arrangements are some of the most interesting arrangements I’ve heard in the Chinese idol pop scene, the way they manage to seamlessly split apart and come back together works so well, not only on their most dynamic tracks but also in their simpler arrangements.

ONER’s “满汉全席” takes them at their most complex, the cluttered arrangements, and turns it into a sound for a Chinese audience.² It maintains ONER’s style but introduces Chinese influences—the background is distinctly Chinese, from plucked strings to the razor-sharp woodwind to the heavy crash of the percussion. Even those ad-libs, those background shouts, root the song in its distinctly Chinese atmosphere. The group even leans on Chinese mythology, its title referring to the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast, a legendary banquet held as a sort of peace offering for the Manchu and Han ethnic groups, that was rumoured to have totalled three hundred and forty dishes. ONER reference a lot of traditional Chinese imagery, with mythic references to heaven and earth, to dragons and phoenixes, but they also bridge between traditional and modern in a couple of ways, performing in a speak-rap style while carrying pieces of tradition forward. Most important is how the lyrics reference food. Scenes of luxurious meals, and extravagant dishes, rainbow-coloured feasts. Perhaps like some suggest, the Manchu-Han Imperial Feast never really happened. So what? ONER, like many other Chinese people, continue to use traditional myths as pieces of imagery and food as a symbol of unity. It’s a celebration of the New Year like any other, by bringing pieces of the tradition into the present.

On the other hand, you have something like “一起 COW COW MOO,” that, while also making use of traditional Chinese sounds, roots itself firmly in the present. Chinese rhythms are performed on more electronic instruments, lending to its modern imagery, and its lyrics are all about current practices: from collecting red envelopes to far too many lines about how we’ve entered the year of the cow. It’s part of Astro’s 2021 Lunar New Year project, involving a vast array of celebrities, and an even larger array of cow-related new year puns. I’m still unsure of whether anyone involved thought this was a joke—they all take themselves far too seriously than anyone should when singing the line “let’s cow cow moo together”—all I know is that I hate how much this slaps.

Finally, a little outside of the pop-sphere, Afterday released a compilation album, 春来炸到, in celebration of the New Year. Its first two tracks are lean pop and the rest settles into instrumental dance music, but there’s variation in the way each moves: the shapeshifting “醒狮之怒” turns a lonely woodwind melody into heavy beats and mechanical rumbles, while “Alone” shoots for straightforward explosive catharsis. Its poppiest moment comes from “Polaroid,” which feels light and airy, its dreamy vocals stitched onto ambient wisps. If you’re more interested in the pop-side rather than the dance-side, Afterday released a second compilation, Timing, in celebration of Valentine’s Day, perhaps just as bright if a little less explosive.

It’s interesting to look at how these tracks try to incorporate pieces of tradition into their sound, whether it’s through instrumentation, lyrics, or melody. Hopefully in the future we’ll look at more things like it, but if you haven’t checked it out yet, I talked with Ryo from This Side of Japan about this style of music, as well as about covering Asian music. Lunar New Year is a big chance for everyone to get some rest, meaning there were fewer Mandarin releases this month, but plenty still worth listening to, and I hope it means you also got a chance to rest as well. Check out the best of February:

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Albums

STACO - 心陳代謝

STACO’s debut comes with a notice on its interlude: “this is a ‘heart album,’ I hope you don’t take this too seriously when you listen, best that you relax when listening, then you can enjoy this journey and all its scenery.” He defines 心陳代謝 as akin to a spiritual journey, where everything here is meant to soothe the heart. It’s all centered around the heart.

There’s this 成語 (chéngyǔ), a four-character Chinese idiom, 新陳代謝 (xīn chén dài xiè), which essentially means metabolism, but in the idiomatic sense, it also takes on the meaning “the new replaces the old.” STACO replaces the first character “新” (xīn) with “心” (xīn), a pun that can be taken to mean “the heart replaces the old.” It highlights just how much the album focuses on the idea of the heart. Like other artists on the ChynaHouse label, STACO’s 新陳代謝 holds hip-hop and R&B at the core of his work, but utilizes the sound freely, bouncing within and between styles. To take on the same metaphor, the heart of 新陳代謝 is the looping hip-hop beats and STACO’s raps, but there’s more interconnected throughout the body of work.

新陳代謝 is best defined by its most soulful moments. Its thesis statement best comes from Brandyce on “Rain or Shine,” where she sings “as long as we got each other, we’re gonna be just fine” over a simple piano loop. That’s what STACO always seems to lean towards, this sense of relying on each other. On opener, “It’s on Me,” he raps “it’s on me / take everything and put it all on me, don’t mention it.” Fluttering keys in the background of “We Gon’ Be Fine” underscore its message. This is an album meant for relaxing, for lazy restful mornings spent outdoors. “充電 (我需要一個角落)” sounds like that, its funky horns and relaxed atmosphere set the ideal scenery for the beach, that feeling of hanging under the shade of the palm trees. STACO doesn’t care how it all looks, he’s merely hoping you clock out and have a bit of fun. That the “da la da da da la da da” breaks up all the heaviness of “溫室逃脫,” that the choir vocals when Brandyce sings “I’mma rise and grind / let’s take a trip to the stars” simply make you laugh along rather than thinking about how lame it all hangs together. This is a “heart” album—use it to let your heart relax a bit. Take a break, just let it play out and let your mind wander.

Find it on streaming here: Apple Music // Spotify // Youtube

Singles: “It’s on Me” // “溫室逃脫”

ICECRAZ - ICECRAZ

“深呼吸” asks you to relax. Well, not so much asks, as much as drills it into you. Perhaps you hear a meditation, perhaps you hear a threat. Compared to STACO, “深呼吸,” sounds more menacing, with ribbons of doubt that line the track’s woodwind melody. But compared to the rest of the first half of ICECRAZ, “深呼吸” sounds like a breather, with the word “relax” repeated like a mantra between lines that sound like ICECRAZ’s version of daily affirmations. The rest of his self-titled debut goes harder and heavier. ICECRAZ’s first half finds him at his most volatile, filling the hollow spaces of the beat on “No-Y” and blowing it up just as you think it’s about to end. He’s most dynamic on opener “Geto Boyz,” switching his flow more than his beat, from words tumbling out of his mouth to trying on harder, edgier styles, splattering autotuned and whispered ad-libs for good measure.

ICECRAZ was released in two parts, the first half before the New Year, the second half last week. There are differences in the way the two run, and compared to the first the latter half feels more pensive, sometimes losing his energy. ICECRAZ still comes across as an interesting rapper, but even “A$$hole Luv,” which skews closest to a party track feels enshrouded in the haze of the party rather than emboldened by the high. “真我” carries that same rapid flow of “Geto Boyz,” but sounds sober, no longer bathed in the ecstasy of its highest moments. ICECRAZ’s debut carries the sense of a rapper just getting started—the feeling of someone with the need to prove himself on the second-half that more often overpowers the first half’s feeling of someone simply enjoying himself on a beat. If that sounds like criticism… well it is, but I enjoy what both sides bring, the party and the side that showcases what ICECRAZ will still be doing even after the party is over.

Find it on streaming here: Apple Music // Spotify

Singles: “Geto Boyz”

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Songs

Jinbo - “Rich (feat. G22)”

“Rich” is stupid. At first glance, it’s single-minded, exactly about what its title implies, with brief tangents from G22 about picking up women. Take a look at its stupid little music video, a rip-off of Parasite that doesn’t seem to quite understand what Parasite was even about. Watch how Jinbo has replaced anything that resembled the storyline of Parasite for excess—he appears shirtless not even a minute into its video while G22 (pronounced as G-double two, which, stupid) pick up beautiful women. Watch how the video ends—a phone call that ends with an “I don’t give a fuck!” and a party that doesn’t. Watch the trouble that Jinbo put G22 under, forcing them to rap swamped in that filthy water.

Maybe that’s exactly where “Rich” succeeds, in how it knows exactly how stupid it is and matching it in equal parts fun. This is simply Jinbo teaming up with two friends having the time of their life, basking in Jinbo’s little paradise. It’s best summed up in the moments right before its final chorus, where each artist takes their turn singing the line “girl you’re gonna love this vibe.” Each hits a bit different: Jinbo relaxes under the autotune, like he’s already drunk; BT a little heavier, yet smoother and more melodic, the kind of guy coming on too strong if the earlier line “gonna be your sugar daddy” is any indication; and KK, ever the rapper, chopping his words. What sounds like a throwaway line manages to quickly distill how they each contribute to the track. Maybe Jinbo’s stupid little party trick is just him enjoying the moment, focusing solely on the current party. After all, that’s what “Rich” really is, joyous daydreaming about what you’d do with all the money, nothing about what you’d get there. Maybe like labelmate STACO, Jinbo simply just wants you to join him in riding the perfect vibe. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it, that I simply enjoy anything that opens with that trademark record scratch.

see also: Julia Wu - “混亂的台北”; SMY - “Tell Me”

Terry Zhong - “Goodnight Stranger (feat. Cheryl Xi)”

Monstercat, the EDM label that once gave us “Crab Rave,” but also, unfortunately, gave us Marshmello’s entire existence, produced their first Mandarin release with Terry Zhong’s “Goodnight Stranger.” “Goodnight Stranger” is straightforward, floating vocals that burst with the production, pleasant but nothing really groundbreaking. It knows what it wants to be, lyrically offering an end to whatever was, relegating whoever you once were back to a stranger. “Sometimes I’ll reminisce / but I’ll never yearn” sings Cheryl Xi, the sound of someone holding back. But Terry Zhong shows that even the most straightforward EDM can offer surprises, weaving a stripped-back piece of “Nightcap” in before the final chorus. The lights go down and Zhong begs, “won’t you come in?” Like Zhong’s arrangement, perhaps there’s more to Xi’s statements than what bubbles up on first listen, that perhaps the “goodnight” is only “if you would let me go away,” maybe you have a say in how this ends.

Rain Lee - “常羲”

Let’s dive into the mythology of “常羲”—常羲 (Changxi) is a traditional lunar goddess and the myth is that Changxi gave birth to twelve daughters, each representing their own moon. This is more figurative than literal, with Changxi being responsible for the lunar calendar and her daughters each making up a different month. It’s also believed that together with the solar goddess Xihe, the pair represent the concept of yin and yang, the complement of opposite forces.³

Can you feel it in the music? The influence of the moon? The push-and-pull? The way opposing elements, things that shouldn’t work, manage to bring out the best in each other? It’s easiest to see the influence of the moon in the structure of the track, how slowly change occurs. “常羲” mimics the lunar cycle, morphing from dull, heavy thrums into heavier rock territory at its gradual climax. Lee and her instrumental roll in waves, pushing forward pulling backward, like heavy sighs. It’s the embodiment of yin and yang and a show not quite like any other language of pop music. No other language of pop music seems to enjoy reveling in dissonance quite like Mandopop. Lee’s voice feels at odds with the strings, even as the rain trickles in, but “常羲” uses its dissonance to produce dynamic textures for each layer, to allow each element to feel heard. “常羲” uses yin and yang to showcase the feeling of resistance to change, the way the moon controls the push-and-pull of the waves. When it finally introduces harmony, it’s through Lee mimicking the sound of the strings, before the track explodes in its brilliant climax.

“常羲” is slow and pensive, like being shrouded in a fog trying to see your own reflection in the water. It, like the other tracks released for the New Year, centers itself in Chinese tradition, from the deep resonance of the strings to the slow mythology that Lee centers herself around. She sings of nature, of the “wind blowing in her face,” but also of illusions, of multiple moons and being unsure of “which one hangs in the sky tonight.” Who knows? Maybe, that’s the best you can get, the feeling of nature, but not the knowledge of it. That time will continue to move, however slowly it does, and that sometimes, lingering can still bring a bit of comfort.

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If you haven’t yet, check out this discussion on covering Asian pop music with Ryo on This Side of Japan, where we talked about things like comparing Western and Asian artists, zhongguofeng-style music, and more. Then once you’re done, check out Ryo’s writing on some recent Japanese music in the main issue, and don’t forget to subscribe to This Side of Japan!

Find the Mando Gap playlist on Spotify here and me on Twitter here.

1. check out Didi from ONER’s single “Rebellious” from earlier this year—one of the best pop singles of the year so far even if it’s performed completely in English and not Mandarin

2. side note, but I have absolutely no idea why the title for this track is in Korean on Apple Music and Youtube; it’s also strangely not the first time this has happened, but as far as I’m aware, ONER has never done any promotions in South Korea

3. some side notes about the mythology: Changxi’s role in Chinese mythology is often overshadowed by Chang’e, who comes up when discussing Mid-Autumn Festival; and Changxi and Xihe were representative of the lunar and solar calendars, respectively, and were both said to be wives of the god Di Jun, which I guess makes Di Jun the calendar wife guy