#50: Summer Fuzz
on Chinese surf-gaze band THE BOOTLEGS and their latest energetic yet still vibes-heavy turn
Hi again! All is still the same, I just took a two-month break.
I think the same way some people say K-pop is on the decline while still being able to list tens and tens of great songs and projects is how I feel about Mandopop. Life’s been busy, but that’s probably another reason why a one-month break turned into two. Is it just me? Is Jolin Tsai going to save Mandopop? Sound off below. Here we’ve got the new album from THE BOOTLEGS and singles from Norton Street, Qi Zitan, and Tsai herself.
THE BOOTLEGS - 幻灯片
The coastal city Qingdao is perhaps best known for its brewery, a reference so easy for a local band named after prohibition-era smuggling to tackle, and yet it’s a reference THE BOOTlEGS have avoided four albums into their career. The indie pop group skirts around the specifics: “I think our music is really related to the everyday life of Qingdao,” frontman Zhao Hong once remarked, “but we won’t express it directly.” Ask him to write a song about the sea and he’ll probably turn you down. He favours broader strokes.
That’s not to say THE BOOTLEGS have completely avoided proper nouns throughout their catalogue. They weave influences of nanyang music—referring to a style from the region south of China—throughout their aptly-titled Singapore and conclude the album with “再见，拉斯维加斯” (“Goodbye, Las Vegas”), the story of a gambler who loses it all to the city of his dreams. But don’t mistake that man for Zhao, no, it’s a tale of ambition and worldliness and failure built off the backs of Hong Kong cinema. Singapore’s most personal track is instead “宝丽莱” (“Polaroid”), written about the memories that resurface when he comes across an old photograph of himself clad in leather. Also known as the universal feeling of nostalgia.
Zhao replaces homesickness with a more general sense of yearning on follow-up 幻灯片 (Filmstrip), simplifying his writing to the most basic of scenes in the process. On “无人机” (“Drone”), he becomes a restless mechanism only wanting for your touch; on “摇摇晃晃” (“Vacillating and Staggering”), he spends all night roaming because he’s yet to find his luck. It is a mode that suits the band. Though his mumbled vocal melodies slip into the lo-fi mix, there’s the odd phrase that pokes through its thick: “because I need you,” he hums, or elsewhere, “I don’t need to think about tomorrow / I’ll stumble alone.” Spoken in such plain language, a track by THE BOOTLEGS can be boiled down into a sharp pull quote.
Much of the band’s appeal lies in their vibe-heavy sound, it’s the swirl of colour that makes a line of text stimulating. Early fans often used shoegaze to describe THE BOOTLEGS but Zhao found something more appropriate when a critic used “surf-gaze,” the frontman going so far as to coin a Chinese translation of the term and adopt it for the band. More than any previous album, 幻灯片 has something of a kick. “脏短袖” (“Dirty Short Sleeves”) begins with galloping kick drums, then bright guitars and gauzy murmured vocals and the same formula is applied to much of the album, with only its final two tracks taking a sludgier approach. It might not lend itself to much variety, something felt when Zhao sings his love songs with the same expression as he repeatedly buzzes, “I don’t care,” which as it happens, is the same one used for his not quite biting remark, “but you can kiss my ass.” Yet it lends nicely to the album’s short runtime and as each variation stacks together, the extended drift is relaxing without feeling sleepy.
To grasp at time on 幻灯片 is a tricky game. Here is a song about a night of tossing and turning that seems to last forever. Here is a song where, blink and you’ll miss it, but twenty-one turns to thirty-two in the span of two verses. But in measuring moments, 幻灯片 seems to open, gradually feeling less solitary as Zhao replaces the singular with the plural more and more down the tracklist until he arrives at the swamp closer “与你同在的夏天” (“Summer With You”). Though Zhao implies never again, the past belongs as a parallel experience. Ultimately there’s nothing remarkable about this passage. But as this figure finds himself subject to the drift of time, there’s familiarity to a street light, safety to a room with a window. These are the sensations that arise only when you share a moment in time.
Listen here: Apple Music // Spotify
Norton Street - “fr fr”
Norton Street trade in a different form of simplicity. The Taiwanese band track a clean sound, no obfuscating Steve Wu’s words as he shifts between shameless pleading and pathetic promises on their debut album. His most innocent display comes from the upstanding boy scout behaviour of “fr fr,” where he struggles to tell a lie, despite knowing the truth will just hurt you. There’s the rationalization, the constant affirmation that it’s all true and the backseat steering of a sparkling guitar solo and some steady drums, before the circular lyrics arrive at the best approach of saying nothing. It isn’t an answer but when it glides so easy, it doesn’t hurt either.
see also: Malpaca & Hogan T. - “Swimming Prohibited”
Qi Zitan - “Back to Funky Town”
There’s some retro swing behind Qi Zitan’s last album, I Don’t Belong Anywhere, but who knew synth-laden dance fever would ever be somewhere in the singer-songwriter’s roadmap? Working in contrast to Huang Shaoyong’s sinister arrangements, she sets the stage. “A little light / a little booze / a little music / all the joy,” she hums. The melody of the chorus is animated, yet as the singer skips between notes, she remains guarded. Qi doesn’t sound quite as joyous as her depictions of paradise or the sun suggest she should, caution baked into her voice. It’s only with that final careening whoop that she truly sounds unburdened, the realization that in funky town, she no longer has to pretend.
see also: Angie - “BBG”
Jolin Tsai - “DIY”
“Pleasure” was the event and why shouldn’t it have been? The single was Jolin Tsai teasing her first album since Ugly Beauty, which despite being released seven years ago—her longest break between albums—didn’t see its associated tour end until last August. But Tsai has been happy to tease, updating fans on the status of her album’s production from concept to recording. Pleasure’s first taste showcases that concept as high art: the seven deadly sins, sexual desire—unless you’re strictly talking about the music, in which case, it sounds like she was inspired by music heard at a gay club, something instantly made clear by the overworked opening line, a low drawled out, “call me mommy.”
“DIY” feels less momentous. Compared to “Pleasure,” the track draws a clearer lineage from Ugly Beauty, the often contrast of snaking vocal builds against ugly electropop drops to tease the duality of the title found in tracks like “Sweet Guilty Pleasure” and the former album’s title track. Though the pairing often lacked purpose beyond shock, the sound could be incongruous and grating. “DIY” makes something out of the build. It’s worth noting that Tsai’s found herself with a better ear for trends, the track incorporating Jersey club kicks and Brazilian funk beat, but more admirable is how the latter arises from the chorus. “If he can’t do it right, do it yourself, DIY,” she commands, the euphoria of the beat conjuring the rite of self-pleasure. “Pleasure” hit the ceiling but “DIY” comes lower. Still teasing, Tsai withholds her hand when it comes to pleasure.
Extra Listening
You’d think I’d have a lot for this section but I am still organizing the thoughts that rattle around in my head… I can’t stop thinking about the Golden Melody Awards naming Energy’s “Friday Night” as song of the year. Real headscratcher.
Drogas has a new record out. The Taiwanese artist’s has always pulled from pockets of the Internet: peep the hyperpop-leaning track amidst the emo sound of his debut record or the yeule-imitation when he tried on shoegaze. Earlier this year, he released MPD., perhaps his closest emulation of self-proclaimed influence brakence, but 愛·無限 (Love·Unlimited) is harder to pin down to one style—in meeting gritty electropop with turbid digicore, it’s the producer’s most club-ready release yet.
Qin Fanqi’s 羽毛剑 (Feather Sword) is one of the best pop albums of the year yet—to me, art pop has a tendency to be a little stuffy but when lets the thumping beat dissipate and passes into something familiar with the interpolation of the old folk song, “茉莉花” (“Jasmine”), the album seems to just crystallize.
Is anyone watching Singer? Feels very funny that it exists. This song rules. Too bad Shan Yichun has the emotional range of a slug. Also what is GAI doing on this show and why is he consistently doing well?
Find the latest Canto Wrap and Mando Gap playlists on Spotify and me on Twitter here.