#49: Tears
on Chengdu-based electronic artist Shii's second album, always looking at fanciful scenery and vivid snapshots of the unremarkable
SXSW—the Austin-based festival—is happening now. Had the absolute privilege of putting together a little bit of a primer for four Chinese and Taiwanese acts on Ryo’s This Side of Japan alongside some of his own blurbs on some Japanese performers this week. Taiwan Beats has been setting up a showcase for a while, but this is the first time Enno Cheng’s actually got the chance to head stateside, last time she was an invited artist, a little pandemic happened and so she performed in the mountains of Taiwan instead.1
This month’s another short one. Blurbs on Chengdu-based electronic artist Shii’s second album, Tears of Acquaintance, and some singles from ZENBØ, E1and, and Shi Xinwenyue.
Shii - Tears of Acquaintance
Shii’s second album starts with a comment on dissociation: “my face in the mirror writes another person’s life.” The Chengdu-based artist’s first album was largely written in English and described as a “collection of dreams, fantasies, and fears,” yet the separation of persona versus self becomes trickier and more difficult to parse on her second album as she alternates between English and Mandarin. Where Floating Signifiers’ writing felt detached, on Tears of Acquaintance, Shii oscillates between fanciful imagery and vivid snapshots of the unremarkable.
When she leans imaginative, Shii has a bad habit of piling on the metaphors. She gestures at flora, the stars, and the galaxy on the first verse of “Venus on Fire,” alone, later beckoning towards “daylight in an endless night” and a “crystal clear proudness” on the chorus—phrases that sound pretty but get exhausting as they stack up. The song’s most powerful line is its most direct: “you know I’m always there whenever you’re sad,” she hums at the start of the second verse, “‘cause you know we’re supposed to speak the same language.” Plainspoken and clumsily strung together, especially when compared against the flowery imagery she more often wields, it’s far more effective at materializing her desperation and frustration. Though the lyrical disconnect may be jarring, the musician’s instrumentals rely on dissonance. There’s a dash of strings treated like a mass of glitchy synths that seem to hint at anger, a feeling not found in her voice; there’s a single minor chord out of step with its final ascendent scale, like a faulty stair that points to the romance’s unstable design.
Shii’s Mandarin lyrics are more coherent. On “星” (“Stars”), the singer continues to use that soft croon, her expression still mysterious. She’s the navigator over the waves of synths, again overdoing the imagery—surging waves, dazzling sunlight, trembling air—though the language doesn’t feel so clunky. And the song’s final lines usher change that meets the movement of its arrangement: “when language is lost / and all illusions are exhausted / we listen to each other / and exchange the secrets of the stars.” Perhaps that final phrase might feel a little much but “星” delivers meaning by centring on its leading figures rather than becoming engrossed in its surroundings. It’s her study of characters that’s most fascinating. On “手足” (“Limbs”), powered by an electric guitar, the singer makes herself sharp through her tangled words: “admit it quickly, you look forward to this kind of face.”
When Shii produced Floating Signifiers, she did so alone, focusing more on using electronic production to bring her pop melodies into a more alternative space. Shii worked dream pop, glitch, and IDM influences into its textures, but even in interview, the artist couldn’t escape the outer novelty of her work, describing herself as one of the only, if not only, female producers in Wuhan’s electronic music scene, the laurels for its progressiveness more so than anything else. Six years on, the increasingly [frequent] use of electronic production has made Floating Signifiers sound like adult contemporary molded to look like something interesting, a beautiful decoration lacking substance. Tears of Acquaintance might take its time to get moving, but the second half finds something more interesting by shifting to a more pop-minded set: “休闲期” (“Leisure Period”) has the underpinnings of a UK Garage beat folded into the chorus that works a more palpable anguish to her call of “I’ll give it all to you,” while the tumbling drums of “迷” (“Mystery”) are as danceable as they are atmospheric. Draped in the colourful and staring at some alternate persona, Shii’s reflections can feel overwhelming. It’s when she shoots straight—when the set dressing becomes something concrete, when the attention turns from the scenery to a supporting character—that her music finally feels affecting.
Listen here: Apple Music // Spotify
ZENBØ - “COVERART & CONTENTS”
Think of that beat switch like opening the artist’s portfolio. ZENBØ prostrates himself as a well-rounded creator at your service on the boom bap beat of his latest single’s first section: “here’s my business card, that’s my logo / I can make your cover art or trademark,” he puffs. The rapper’s got the buzzwords down pat, nodding at AI and constant evolution, though he tosses a weirder reference to Kobayashi before the song’s change-up. On “CONTENTS,” he speaks unfiltered, as if knowing his application will never make it past the sales pitch. Over a knotty synth melody, he blasts other rappers before looping back to the tricky pain of creation: “how do you resist doubt in this environment? it’s nothing more than torture made to kill artists / why should I worry about making a living after releasing an album?” It’s tough out there in the gig economy.
Shi Xinwenyue - “Gray Gray Sun”
Spring is now close, yet not quite there yet. That’s something the Chengdu-based musician notes as he looks out at the frosted willow buds and an eager sun, hidden by a cloudy haze. “Gray sun, oh gray sun / when will your rays pierce through,” Shi Xinwenyue questions. Swirling around him is a frosty air built on synths, soft keys, and even softer percussion; the atmosphere not so gentle as to feel comfortable, not so firm as to feel solid. When he sighs, “drifting aimlessly, at the whim of the wind,” it’s a touch melancholy, not carefree but longing for some sense of control. That playful bamboo flute melody appears in spurts throughout the song but towards the end when it starts to really caper, it’s a signal that the season is much closer than the gray, gray clouds would have you think.
E1and - “Stupid Romantic Phrases”
On the final chorus, E1and spells out her own destruction. Her UK Garage beat is traded for pummelling stabs and a stiffer beat; her voice is slightly bitcrushed as if killing off an old identity. What better action to take against a former weak version of yourself than to demolish it? “I feel helpless when there’s no one / who can I borrow a sense of security from?” she questions before dismissing the concern as foolish. “Stupid Romantic Phrases” occasionally lands corny, the “murder on this beat” delivered in soft sing-rap or the “I’m on my beast mode now” cut without a hint of menace as its digitally warbled in the background. But in the fight with an older self, E1and wins, disregarding older, stupid concerns.
Extra Listening
Rest in peace Khalil Fong. For the past few years, he’s been affected by chronic illness, something he gestured at on his final album. I’ll always think of him as being responsible for introducing soul music to the Mandopop, a softer, quieter, more intimate version that suited both his voice and the direction of the industry. All love.
Find the latest Canto Wrap and Mando Gap playlists on Spotify and me on Twitter here.
small aside: biggest criticism I’ve seen launched against Enno Cheng’s more recent output is that she’s not fluent enough in Hokkien—unlike when artists make the English album to cater to western tastes, the backlash has felt more guarded about who should be able to use their language, despite what feels like Cheng having equal claim to it—which is something she’s been upfront about. If you look at all of her most recent music videos, she’s hired people to help with the language. When her music speaks to the idea of connection, how can learning, and demonstrating that learning, be such a bad thing?