#33: Kuangye
an adventurous trip through the wilderness on R&B singer and producer Leo1Bee's debut album
Hello! For Pitchfork, I reviewed the four newly reissued Faye Wong albums, tracing how these albums arrive at her creative apex. Big thanks to the friends at Tone Glow (subscribe!), wouldn’t have pitched it if they hadn’t suggested it to me. I’m really happy I got to write this one. If I had free reign of the score, would have gone higher (pitched it as 9.0+) but it’s really nice to see Wong added to this Western canon. If you haven’t, please give it a read.
Leo1Bee - Wilderness
On its surface, Leo1Bee’s music feels wholly spontaneous. He launched his 4(for) trilogy in 2016 with the 4FUN, that jumped from biting glam metal guitars to withdrawn lo-fi hip-hop beats in its short thirteen minute runtime. The second of his trilogy would similarly span across genres, while the final release, 2021’s 4LUV, would settle into a delectable blend of R&B, indie-pop, and jazz. While Leo1Bee’s interests can turn in an instant, behind the immediacy of his work is an artist constantly overthinking—he’s been open about how his own depression and obsession with fiddling with his mixes have led to delays in his projects.
The R&B singer/producer’s debut album, Wilderness, feels as impromptu as any of his previous work—opener “it’s gonna be a long night” lets everything drop to silence before he resurfaces in a noisy burst of groans, dragging a rough bassline. Its intricately designed arrangements unfold naturally, the abundant use of instrumentation and sampled sounds seamlessly blending into its rugged atmosphere. In the background of “hunting season,” he weaves howls and wails between the dissonant collage of jazz melodies before trading the cacophony for Latin guitars, the immediate sense of loneliness a cause for peril. “fake god” seems to surrender to his company’s madness: darkness swallows its feeble synths and the lilting saxophone melody as a chorus of screams and echoed chants grow in from the background.
Unlike his previous work, Wilderness doesn’t feel the need to disguise Leo1Bee’s anxieties, instead, drawing them into the focus. Confusion and apprehension are central to the concept album’s overarching narrative of being lost in the wild, but the lyrical specifics tend to circle back onto relatable worries of place and purpose. He sketches the natural in “hunting season”—the rising moon, low pressure clouds and a faint drizzle, and his horse running to no end—but Shi Xinwenyue lands back on reality, even over the sound of a wolf call: “you’d pray that you’re not wearing glitter or not smelling too out of order / remember last night we saw a body with a throat torn laying cold in the gutter / well that’s the price to pay for being an outsider.” His rap comes as a reminder that Wilderness is an artificial escape.
Wilderness seems informed by aesthetic first, pulling and blending influences without straying from its atmospheric R&B, from the gospel chorus of interlude “burning feather” to the acoustic “gentler,” that pulls closer through the silence. Leo1Bee takes collaborators from his homegrown series—a series of live performances in private settings that bathe artist and room in yellow hues for intimate effect—letting them inform his sound. Chen Jingfei arrives on “blinded” as a misty mirage, the vocalist drawling about a moth set aflame, while TASHI DELÄK and Fishdoll coalesce in a gentle wash of drums, flutes and sweetly delicate coos.
Where the first half of Wilderness impulsively drives forward through grand crescendos and rapid fade-outs, its later half finds beauty in its clear nightscape. “When your eyes adjust to the darkness, yes, we’re alive,” he sings above the pipe organ on “path of your own,” moving beyond the immediate hysteria of traversing through unfamiliar territory. It flows rather than races, Wilderness finally settling as it arrives at “silence and sunrise,” taking in the light as it refracts across the still water. There’s still the impulse to move, but drawn quieter as he intertwines piano melodies with upright bass, sweeping strings, and the soft jangle of hi-hats. “At the centre of everyone, there must be something as beautiful as sunrise and sunset,” Leo1Bee hums, one soft, parting wisdom that doesn’t feel like an empty truism but a sincere shift in perspective. It’s an embrace of serenity at the edge of night, a quiet promise to hold on for something gentler even in the coming frenzy.
Find it on streaming here: Apple Music // Bandcamp // Spotify
Singles: “blinded (feat. Chen Jingfei)” // “false god”
Deng Dian - “Talking about U”
For so much of “Talking about U,” Deng Dian sounds like he’s just outside the club, flirting with anyone who’ll throw a glance his way. He’s constantly switching up his approach: boastful and muscular rapping as he name drops Chanel and Prada, whispered come-ons that feel breathy under the muffled house beat, and fried coos that glide freely across its funky groove. Its showiness spells its success, a hot finale in the awkward fling of its closing neon guitar.
Sabrina - “Cloudy Love”
“We had a crazy night,” Sabrina sings, a clear acknowledgement it’s over. Yet over the track’s vibrant nu-disco, she’s hung-up on the one-night stand and it isn’t until the stalled verse where she finds the messiness of her desire. “But don’t leave a message, won’t give you more than a couple chances / overcast, clear, the uncertainty is your selfishness,” she murmurs, her words slurred together. A single connection or a fickle prolonged relationship, the better option isn’t clear as she lets nightfall surround her.
RoseDoggy - “Close 2 Me”
There’s a tendency for Chinese rap to go for toughness, whether it’s in macho affectations or taut trap beats, but it’s always refreshing when it pivots away from its usual rigidity. On “Close 2 Me,” Shanghai hip-hop duo RoseDoggy are light-hearted longshots celebrating over bubbly Afropop production. The feeling of being defeat, the anxiety of failing a joke—their head-over-heels infatuation spills onto the track, a sunny effervescence in the stuttered “clo-clo-clo-close to me” and the pair’s joyous whoops.
PoLin - “Give You All My Love”
For Sony Taiwan’s 30th anniversary, they’ve enlisted some of their newer artists to cover some of their most famous tracks across their catalogue (perhaps the most fun is Ozone’s cover of Pauline Lan & TOLAKU’s “Phone Call from You,” in typical boy group fashion, with the homage sweetened by Lan’s feature). For his cover of Jerry Yan’s “Give You All My Love,” PoLin trades the boyishness for a more mature outlook, fashioning it into a blissful wedding serenade before letting it blossom in flowery style on the chorus. “From the first time we met, you occupied my heart, they each sing at the outset, a fond anchor of a memory but where Yan delivers a heartthrob performance, PoLin’s pledge of a hundred centuries rings promising.
Akini Jing - “Call Me Shadow”
On her previous album, Akini Jing defined herself as an interdimensional traveller. Concept has always been at the forefront of her vision, and alongside producer Chace, the pair envisioned sounds worth the artist’s cyborg persona. For her forthcoming album, VILLAIN, Akini Jing cites wuxia, the Chinese fictional martial arts genre, as a heavy inspiration, pivoting away from the science-fiction futurism. Collaborating once again for lead single “Call Me Shadow,” Chace continues to explore new sounds with uneasy UK Bass production, all while working in motifs of the fantasy genre: the sharp whistle of a woodwind signals sly movement, while the simulated guqin ominously beckons. Each light click acts like a swift footstep, each heavy thud like the pounding of an anxious heart. In between sharp breaths, Akini Jing quietly hums lines that dissipate as soon as they arrive: “find me in my shadow / no way back,” she sweetly calls, easily switching between languages. It crumbles into a violent techno beat that ensnares the singer, but Akini Jing is the deft shadow; in her stead is nothing more than a ghostly collection of faint, ribboned whispers.
Extra Listening
NEXT GIRLZ finally comes to an end after twelve weeks—unfortunate since I would’ve continued to tune in to see whatever nonsense producer A.F. could have come up with for babyMINT. His grandest one yet moves from moves from cinematic (literally sampling 2001: A Space Odyssey) to disconcerting screams and comes with his best alias yet.1 I’ll let you press play, it’s a real odyssey, and experience every little surprise.
GENBLUE did a Kwon Eunbi song, but the Chinese lyrics make it sound like a breathlessly cluttered IZ*ONE track. They’re gearing up to release everything in an album later this month.
WayV, the Chinese subunit of K-pop group NCT, released their second full-album. I think like the above GENBLUE Track, there’s a noticeable clumsiness that tends to come from Chinese lyricists attempting to write over non-Chinese melodies, but it’s not so awkward here. Maybe I’ll waste my time debating people about how they’re both K-pop and Mandopop again,2 why not. Anyway, the hooks on On My Youth are a bit too repetitive, but I liked the housey “RODEO.”
Some solid new indie rock from Midnight Ping Pong, their new album, Heart Reconstructs, starts with a burst of guitar and some screaming, rips through the first two tracks and then lets up a bit with some really intricate performances.
Taiwanese dream pop band We Save Strawberries have a new EP out (The Failure of Us), nine years after their last album, three pretty songs strung together.
Finally, Chengdu-based rapper PO8 released a new album (Heat Island) that leans into an artsy combination of lo-fi hip-hop and jazz fusion.
Edward Chen (of Your Name Engraved Herein) is now singing? And signed to HIM International Music at that. Good for him! This is boring.
Elva Hsiao made a comeback on Warner. What’s everyone’s favourite Elva album, I think mine’s 愛的主打歌。吻.
Shi Shi announced her sixth album—supposedly without any ballads—for December 1. Great start for next year!
Find the latest Canto Wrap and Mando Gap playlists on Spotify and me on Twitter here.
A.F.’s alias this time is DJ對不起後斯特效我知道你很討厭我但我真的很想要試試看能不能一路街道屏幕的外面我知道這讓你很為難但這最後一集了求求你滿足我的心原我會再請你吃無菜單日本料理就讓我們一起突破天際吧機車發不動額額額額額額額額額額額額額額額
DJ I’m sorry for the special effects, I know you hate me but I really want to see if I can go outside the screen. I know this makes you embarrassed but this is the last episode, I beg you, please satisfy my heart. I’ll invite you to omakase again, let’s break through the horizon. Crap, won’t move! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Lyricist Lynzie’s alias is 製作人真滿有病 Producer is insane
All of this boils down to what your definition of Mandopop (or I guess, even C-pop) is. If your definition is that it’s pop performed in Mandarin, then there’s no reason that it can’t be Mandopop, the inherent Chinese-ness built into the use of the language. If your definition is based on some sort of stylistic marker that includes more than language, well, then it’s worth a discussion, but then it’s also worth questioning what it includes/excludes.