First, a couple interesting news items: the Chinese government is still trying to hush up the milk-powder scandal by threatening volunteer lawyers who are willing to prosecute families’ cases (the BBC has determined that fresh milk now is safe, and the only concerns are products manufactured a while ago with the milk powder), and they’re also considering a proposal to allow rural farmers to sell their land, which would increase the rural-to-urban migration (already huge). Thanks to the NYT for both of these and my grandpa for sending me the second one.
This weekend has been, in true Beijing fashion, a contrast between old and new, and a totally rad one at that. Last night Max and I went to see a Beijing rock band called Hedgehog at a place named Mao Livehouse, at the north end of Nanluogu Hutong. Hedgehog came highly recommended, and I figured I should dive in to the local scene eventually, so we paid $9, met up with a couple other people (a Chinese screenwriting student and a Swede from Max’s program who I kept wanting to hit on and then getting cold feet and therefore not hitting on) and settled in.
Mao Livehouse is a pretty spartan performance space: black walls, raised stage, railing about halfway back in the room (maybe 35’ by 60’? It was quite small), and painted all black, although the walls were covered in scrawled graffiti: the word “punk,” names of bands that had performed there, various profanities, etc. The opening band was a Swedish duo who spent their half-hour set ripping off Belle and Sebastian and Sondre Lerche and not succeeding, so we were all happy when Hedgehog took the stage.
They were an interesting group to behold. (The band only plays in the video from about 1:00 to 3:30.) The guitarist/vocalist and bassist both looked like James Iha circa 1994 (the bassist even had the sparkly v-neck sweater to back it up), but their drummer was something else entirely. A tiny little thing with a bowl cut, she couldn’t have stood more than five feet, and she wore a long-sleeved blouse buttoned up to the collarbone and Mary Janes. She looked like she should have been in some cram-school math class, not in a place like Mao Livehouse, and certainly not performing there.
And then they started playing.
The schedule flyer I’d received described Hedgehog as “indie pop,” which wasn’t entirely accurate. To my great joy, they sounded sort of like early Smashing Pumpkins, all with this great Smells Like Teen Spirit guitar tone. The guitarist and bassist played very solidly together, at several points busting out a feedback solo or a Guitar Hero-esque fling-your-instrument-around maneuver, and the guitarist had a wonderful air of completely not caring what his vocals sounded like. The drummer was the most fun to watch, though. I had her pegged as Meg White after she started the first two songs off with parts I probably could have played, but she amped it up admirably, and by about halfway through the set she was just a monster. It was like Animal (from the Muppets, fools) had been reincarnated in the body of this tiny Chinese girl; I would not have been surprised to find out that she not only eats hi-hats for breakfast, but does so without butter or syrup. Anyway, she was completely ridiculous (seriously, watch the video from 3:00 to 3:30), and the band played an awesome set, although I felt it was a bit brief. They’re apparently around Beijing a lot, so I’ll try and make it back to see them again sometime.
After some confusion about whether there was another band playing (only two were listed on the flyer, so I thought it was just the opener and Hedgehog, but it turns out there was more to come) I found a new place at the railing near the front of the stage and waited for the next band. The band in question, Regurgitator, turned out to be “120% Australian!” (as one of the rowdy Australian guys near us said) and came out dressed all in white, although the clothes ranged from tennis outfits to American Apparel stuff. This explained the surprisingly large Australian contingent at the show; although I’d never heard of Regurgitator, they seem to be fairly high-profile in their homeland, and a large band of increasingly inebriated, large, rowdy Australian students (they probably all played rugby or “football” or something) had come out to show their support. Regurgitator had four people: a guitarist and bassist, who split the vocal duties, a keyboard player, and a drummer.
I have no idea how to describe them, but they were not “indie pop.” There were elements of punk (a lot of elements of punk), the B-52s, hip-hop, and a bunch of other things I can’t even remember. They got the crowd going really quickly, and within three songs or so people were crowd-surfing, yelling and requesting songs, and the beginnings of a mosh pit had formed. Most of the people in the front half of the room were merrily jumping around like collegiate morons, myself included, and, as people invariably jumped into other people, the mosh pit grew and grew. By the time their relentlessly energetic set was over, I was covered in sweat, much of which was probably not my own (those Australians, man). I had been elbowed countless times in the ribs and spleen and shoved into people I’d never met by people I’d never met, and I’d done the same to those around me. It was excellent; good, sloppy, dirty, exhausting fun, and Regurgitator played really fun music. They’re doing another show in Beijing on Wednesday, so I might drag along Pei Rei and some of the other IES lame-os who missed out on this one.
After that, the four of us headed out to Sanlitun,* where Max’s friends ostensibly were. It turns out that they had been there at one point, but had either gone to a club (which we weren’t dressed for and didn’t want to pay for) or to buy yams.** We ended up at Bar Blu and danced for a short while, but the music left a lot to be desired, so we called it a night pretty soon after that.
Then, this morning, I went to do that most archetypal of Chinese things: climb the Great Wall of China. I had waffled on signing up for the trip at all, as I figured that it was one of those lame, mandatory tourist things to do, but IES was paying for it and buying us lunch, and I figured I had to see the Great Wall at least once.
We visited a remote part of the wall, which to my great surprise was completely devoid of vendors, gift shops, and tourist trappings of any kind. In fact, we were the only Westerners I saw on the trip – there were a fair amount of Chinese tourists, but far fewer than I would have expected given that it was the Great Wall. I’m glad I went to this specific place; it was completely overgrown and unrestored (a couple times we had to climb sheer faces with our hands and feet) and the views were amazing. Autumn is coming to Beijing, and the trees in the surrounding steep hills were beautiful shades of golden, orange and red. The air was beautiful, clear, and blue, as well, which was a nice break from the pollution in Beijing, which seems to have been particularly strong the last few days. I took some stellar pictures, my favorite of which is myself with Pei Rei and John Cho (up at the top, note the Regurgitators t-shirt).
I returned exhausted, as much from my lack of sleep the previous night as from the strenuous climb up the wall.*** Tonight will be an early night in, with large amounts of the hot chocolate from Jenny Lou’s and my mom, vocabulary words, and watching Weeds online. Tomorrow will probably also be pretty low-key, although I might go shopping in Wudaokou if I’m able to walk.
Dumpling Tally: 133
*I really don’t even like it there that much, but I always find myself there for some reason. WHY IS THIS.
**Yams are one of the new, winterized street foods that has popped up with the advent of cooler weather. They’re grilled until soft and then sold by the weight. They are incredibly sweet, beyond delicious, and the smell as you pass by someone cooking them is absolutely maddening. The other wintery food is freshly roasted chestnuts, which also smell great but are a pain to eat.
***If there is any justice in the world, I will wake up tomorrow morning with the most flawlessly toned legs the Pacific Rim has ever seen. Of course, the world is an unfair place, and I will still not fit into Chinese pants.
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