heading underground

Another eventful weekend in the pearl of the Orient. Friday night was dinner with my old roommate down in Xintiandi, a commercial neighborhood favored by expats and wealthy locals, well known for its bars and its Shikumen architecture (grey brick homes with stone-carved doorways). We had superbly overpriced Chinese food at a restaurant in the area (with thanks to my roommate's company, who footed the bill), then headed - courtesy of a drunk, high, sleepy, and/or insane taxi driver who weaved his way through empty streets and drove straight through a construction site - to a wine bar downtown. We met some of my roommate's acquaintances there, but unfortunately they included a couple of particularly obnoxious Americans. It was the first time I've seen evidence of the behavior that people from other countries often associate with my fellow citizens.
Saturday brought some better company. First I had brunch with a couple of the nomads I met last weekend. Through them, I met the handful of Southeast Asians with whom I spent the rest of the day. We went after brunch to the Shanghai Botanical Gardens to see the plum blossoms, which are especially colorful during February and March. The gardens were in, as the Singaporeans say, "Wulu", or, as some Americans say, "B.F.E.". All the way across town from where I live, which admittedly, is at the other end of nowhere. Still, the trip was worth the travel, as 15 kuai admitted us to a large park filled with dozens of different types of flora - and freshly mowed grass that we could actually touch. (I was considering dropping to the ground and sprawling myself across the grass since I have so little chance to do so here, but after a later discussion with some friends, I realized it's a good thing I didn't because it's true that people will hawk and spit just about anywhere.) So, on that lovely image, we made our way to the plum blossoms, which were indeed in full yellow and pink bloom. There weren't too many trees, but if you stood in the middle of it all, you could almost feel like you were surrounded by the silky flowers in a forest of spring colors - dotted occasionally by the bolder red of cherry blossoms. Earlier at lunch, my friends had argued whether plum blossoms actually turn into plums, or if the plums grow from some other part of the tree. Nobody had seen plums in nature, so we couldn't agree on an answer. Does anybody out there know?
A few hours later, we made our way to the main attraction of the night - the opening of a new underground music warehouse. If you're not familiar with Chinese pop music, it's hard to explain why this event was so exciting. Basically, though, most popular Chinese music is what some would refer to as bubble gum pop. For example, I'm told one of the most popular songs right now is called Kissy, sung by two young Britney Spears equivalents, with incredibly intelligent lyrics like "kissy kissy kissy kissy" and "la la la la la". Underground music here therefore refers to anything that goes beyond those hyper-cheerful, sugar-coated dance tracks or trite, melancholy love songs sung by semi-talented and boringly attractive men who make adolescent girls swoon. Alt, indie, or folk rock, punk, experimental, and electronica are all out of the mainstream and so are found underground. Clearly, then, the opening of this music warehouse was a gift for the musically deprived.
We arrived late to the show, in time for what I assume was the last of several bands to play. The place was quite literally in a warehouse, tucked away down several small, dark alleys, the door lit by one strong light bulb hanging overhead. The walls were concrete, two sides covered in framed photographs of recent gigs and the others bare concrete. I guessed that no more than 150 people had squeezed their way into this hole, but surprisingly the crowd was fluid enough that we made our way practically to the front row within about 15 minutes. We weren't sure what to expect, or whether the music would be worth even our free entrance, but we were very pleasantly surprised. The band was called Tianmi de Haizi, or The Honeys in English. I prefer the more literal translation of their name: Sweet Child. In any case, their music made up for the name with a healthy display of original songwriting and alternative rock.
I didn't see any of the band's CDs available after the show, though others were for sale for 20-30 kuai a piece - legitimate copies, mind you. I'd never heard of any of the groups before, but I picked up a couple CDs just to give them a try. I've since listened to both and am duly impressed. One was Magical Mystery Tour by Crystal Butterfly, which through further research I have discovered is probably the oldest and most popular rock group in Shanghai. This particular CD sounds like British pop rock with an injection of electrified, traditional Chinese harmonies. The other CD I bought is the self-titled album by a group called Godot. The music, as befitting the name, is experimental, instrumental, and passes from lounge to techno to grunge electric in a style that reminds me very much of Café Tacuba on the brilliant Reves.
When I was in Beijing and Hong Kong, I never learned to appreciate Chinese music; everything I heard sounded like an imitation of itself or of Aqua. But now I'm discovering that Shanghai has quite an exciting, though small, music scene; I just have to go underground to find it. Friday I'm back at the warehouse for Cold Fairyland - a mixed-genre fusion of modern and traditional instruments. Can't wait!