#55: Lucky
looking back on one of the greatest Chinese pop albums, Zhou Xun's '偶遇,' as we call it wraps on this year's newsletter
Remember when I had a blog? I didn’t forget about… I just never got around to it, which sucks. I was going to start “getting into” the ‘90s, but then I started picking at different threads, chasing different sounds and never made a start. I’m happy that at least I got the ‘00s list out.
Anyway, following tradition—because it seems silly to write about November releases when you’re just going to put them in a list in a couple days—here’s a look back on some albums from twenty years ago: Zhou Xun’s 偶遇, one of the best Chinese pop albums of all time, and some singles from artists that never made it to my list: CinCin Lee, Michelle & Vickie, and Fengie Wang. Lists will start next week.
Zhou Xun - 偶遇
Mainland’s pop scene lacked identity. Its most famous singers worked elsewhere: Faye Wong called Beijing her home but had Hong Kong as her office; Na Ying was signed across the strait and enlisted Taiwanese and Singaporean musicians to lead her album production. Despite moving to collaborate more frequently with the capital’s growing rock circle, their careers were still largely ingrained elsewhere. The catalyst for change then comes from Beijing rock going commercial: counter to the growing urban influences in Taiwan, campus singer-songwriter and pop-rock types like Lao Lang, Xu Wei, and Wang Feng were catapulted to the forefront and put to work behind-the-scenes. When Beijing went pop with Ye Pei’s second album, Pisces, it was produced by Xu, featured members of the scene’s sphere, and its OBI strip proudly touted: “NO R&B + NO HIP-HOP.”
Around the time of Pisces’ release, Song Ke—the head of Warner Music China subsidiary Taihe Rye Music—asked duo Radio Mars to produce an album for actress Zhou Xun. Zhou had struck a series of lucky opportunities: her first film role came at fifteen after the director saw her face while she was modelling for calendars and singing in night clubs got her into Chen Kaige’s Temptress Moon. A lead role in Lou Ye’s Suzhou River was just the start of a fruitful career in film and television for the artist and efforts to record an album naturally took a backseat to her filming schedules. Despite this, Zhou dismissed the idea that she was simply dabbling in music.
As a singer, Zhou didn’t need to play a director’s character. Instead, he music was attached to her public persona, which is perhaps why she was more particular about the lyrics. She left the production to Radio Mars, though it wasn’t that she had no musical preferences but that she trusted their vision. Zhou had initially arrived arrived to Beijing following the rockstar dreams of then-boyfriend Dou Peng—cousin of bonafide rockstar Dou Wei—and Radio Mars developed a more electronica-flavoured version of the pop sound produced by Beijing’s rock circle as first demonstrated by Pisces.
Initially formed as a college band, Radio Mars underwent several line-up and name changes as well as. an unfruitful record contract with Taihe Rye Music before Huang Shaofeng and Zeng Yu came into production. The pair took on steady work for several years, including Zhou’s two albums and producing for the short-lived girl group Mei Mei, but as label investments stalled during what Song called the “singles era” caused by the explosion of ringtone popularity, work stalled. Rumours suggested that the pair had a falling out, but in later conversation, they talk as if it was the simple matter of burnout and differing goals. Whatever the cause, the chemistry between the pair was missed and they smoothly resumed collaboration, starting with Eason Chan’s rice & shine before rising to greater prominence with a self-titled Radio Mars debut and working behind the boards for Lexie Liu, putting some personality to her stylishness.
Despite what its title might suggest, Zhou’s first album, Summer, possessed a cool, having both alternative, sophisticated sensibilities and a somewhat detached energy. Follow-up 偶遇 (Chance Encounter) was far more personable: the atmosphere is coloured in sun-stained hues and Zhou’s childlike smile actually comes across on the record. Two developments were responsible for the shift. Filming Beauty Remains in Qingdao by the coast, Zhou was enamoured by Brazilian-born Japanese singer Lisa Ono and wanted that sound for herself: “I must have bossa nova, I must feel warm,” she told Zeng, her input reflected immediately on the album’s first proper track. The second was a bit of tabloid fodder that the media immediately latched onto: Zhou was in love.
This itself was nothing new. Zhou had been attached to a number of high-profile figures in the past, including actor Li Yapeng whom she co-starred with on the series, The Legend of the Condor Heroes—after the couple split, Li married Faye Wong. But she spoke of her latest flame with absolute revelation. Zhou had previously met Taiwanese stylist Li DAqi when the pair worked together for Summer and he would once again collaborate with her on 偶遇. About the album’s stunning cover: “he made me look beautiful but this beauty wasn’t just about dressing up, it brought out my inner qualities,” Zhou praised, “I’ve never looked so good.” She talked about being with him forever and made his name synonymous with hope. On “大齐”—named after Li—she rapturously describes him: “his stubbornness is romantic / he speaks slowly / his laughter accounts for half his charm.” It’s the one track on the album where she wrote the lyrics and she sighs over arpeggiating synth melodies. “As long as we’re together every day,” she closes.
Radio Mars capture an equally enamoured atmosphere, even when their songs don’t have such a specific subject. “什么都不需要” (“Nothing Needed”) drips with contentment as glitchy electronics are dulled to match the soft drum ‘n’ bass production. “Happiness quietly arrives just like this,” she hums, the sweet synth fills brightening the air around her. She bounces on the comfortably muted house beat of “如果这就是生活” (“If This Is Life”) in celebration of small domestic moments and the title track is an awestruck acknowledgement of happenstance where she drinks in every beautiful accident as she gets her bossa nova.
For Zhou, music allowed her to portray herself, to fill its promises of love with the same naïveté she possessed and to spill optimism across the soft arrangements in bright, yellow streaks. Zhou has been praised for the depth of emotion conveyed by her eyes when acting and its something she fully commits to on 偶遇 with her slightly smoky voice. “Rather than write love into a cruel poem, I’d prefer to portray you as too kind,” she sings on “无邪气” (“Innocent”), one of two tracks written by Sandee Chan. Like her most complex performances, there’s a sad half-smile to the bittersweet melancholy of album’s back half. But even the more uncomplicated emotions feel prominent. There’s a mischievous smirk when she sings, “I’m about to fly,” on the title track. There’s an aching sigh when she sings of Daqi.
Zhou and Li split four years after the release of 偶遇 and there was never a third album from her. Perhaps all the acclaim for her growing filmography prevented her from pursuing the music career she claimed to have wanted or perhaps the higher-ups saw no more profit in her singing career, as insinuated by the conversations with Radio Mars. Perhaps she was inspired by love and not heartbreak. When an album is so fully committed to a relationship now ended, it can be difficult to revisit. After the breakup, the public left notes of sympathy for Zhou, whose sole lyrical contribution was not about a forever she was wrong about. But “love is about the process, not about winning or losing,” she claimed a couple years back. Years removed, 偶遇 becomes a sublime souvenir: a capture of Beijing’s pop scene, so quick to deteriorate; a love letter to a man who made her look and sound the best she ever had.
Listen here: Apple Music // Spotify
CinCin Lee - “So Cold”
CinCin Lee’s voice tends to feel at odds with her arrangements. Take “Trouble Mind” as an example: the lounge-y foundation feels jellied and its decorations—a bit of cowbell and a simple saxophone melody—are perfectly playful. Yet the singer’s voice is completely dry. It’s like staring at the wall when there’s a game on the screen. Not “So Cold” though, where the point is that nothing excites. Lee’s voice sounds distant as always before the beat rolls in to surround her lifeless body with movement, before swells of strings give her melancholy some flesh. “You love me, slowly reaching out your hands,” she sings towards the end of the song. Her voice remains flat as she brushes away the hand that could save her: “but slowly, I fall.” Drowning in greys, it’s Lee at her most alluring.
Michelle & Vickie - “Kissy”
You have to imagine that someone saw Barbie and Dee Hsu and the lesson they took was that people love seeing two Chinese girls acting cute—By2, the Singaporean duo, Twins, the Hong Kong duo who weren’t even related. The story goes that Michelle was originally going to release an album as a trio with her sister and Elva Hsiao before the higher-ups came into play and ruined their fantasy (the record label insisted on adding another girl; the trio decided to set Hsiao free and back to her own successful solo career); instead, Michelle ended up partnering with Vickie, a complete stranger to her who was only in Taiwan on vacation. Several months later, they were label-arranged roommates with a list of popularity requirements before they could debut. They didn’t meet them. But fan protests got them to debut because people were really into sticky hooks like “Kissy,” which is a sweet, little pop song with twinkling synths and occasional record scratches that isn’t much for the imagination but possesses a chorus that can do a number on the brain.
Fengie Wang - “As Long As You’re Happy”
Fengie Wang’s life was in chaos. Her first two albums were commercial disappointments despite doing everything right: the first had a track that jumped the border to feature South Korean electronic duo CLON; the second was produced by Jonathan Lee. Leading up to her third album, Wang had reportedly been cheated on by several of her ex-boyfriends and suffered a period of depression so bad that she didn’t leave her bed for three months.
But life goes on and one night, inspired during the midst of a typhoon, Wang wrote the title track of what would become her third album, “As Long as You’re Happy,” a kind of plain, understated piece about wishing someone well despite every bit of pain they’ve inflicted upon you. There are more interesting cuts on the parent album—the hedonistic rush of “Pink Baby,” which reminds a bit of Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams,” or “Unconvinced,” a pretty R&B cut that turns messy on the second verse—but she sounds best on the title track, even as her tendency to go bigger, to sound more impressive muddies the song as it progresses. She lets every note linger as long as she can, hoping the sentiment can reach him.
Extra Listening
Pick your samples: Chinese rapper Yaka’s got a bunch of Chinese pop songs on his new album, JUNGLE +, from artists that include Faye Wong, Jay Chou, Khalil Fong, and even a sample of jim legxacy’s “dj.” Another Chinese rapper Vansdaddy’s got snippets from the soundtrack to Love Letter (1995), the Rick and Morty theme song, Yellow Magic Orchestra at the Greek Theatre in 1979, Damian and Ziggy Marley on different tracks, Rhythm Heritage, and more from his new album, 都市醉汉 (City Drunk).
Taking a break from his high-concept trilogy inspired by La poétique de l’espace, Zheng Xing follows up with a new album where each song was borne out of a different collaboration with some artist: Wu Qingfeng, Penny Tai, Hsia Yu, etc. A nice little stopover.
Find the latest Canto Wrap and Mando Gap playlists on Spotify and me on Twitter here.
I found 偶遇 earlier this year through your 2000s list and have been returning to it all year! Happy to read about some of the background here. It can be hard for a fool like me to find that kind of info, especially in English.