Lengxue Dongwu(Cold Blooded Animal) singer Xie Tianxiao at New Get Lucky in Beijing lasy November

　　Why the Beijing alternative music scene rocks

　　By Tracy Smith

　　I find the live music scene here in Beijing divides my friends. Non-Chinese friends typically say they find the music abysmal, a pale imitation of the great music they hear in their home countries, while Chinese friends seem to view the music scene largely as a bunch of people who are too lazy or dysfunctional to find a decent job. Many of my own friends have been dragged out to see bands at my behest only to sit with fingers in ears trying politely to make it through the evening or to walk out later swearing they'll never come back "because it sucks." The only other people I seem to find share my own love of the music scene are the musicians themselves. For years I have found my experience in China oddly imbalanced by knowing such a disproportionate number of musicians. Magically, perhaps with the same compulsion that causes people to stop and look at car wrecks, I still find myself getting the urge to "go out and hear what's going on."

　　When I was first in Beijing, in 1990, I was lucky to find the music scene, because it was pretty hard for a non-Chinese person, and indeed even for a Chinese person, to find. There were no foreign language magazines, and China Daily certainly wasn't putting in listings for the bar shows. The only form of promotion was word of mouth, and the audience was small and artsy. It was very insulated and comfortable, with the same musicians (there were less than 50 I'd guess at that time) and the same listeners (mostly from the two big art schools in Beijing), most of whom weren't able to pay to get in and would mill about out front until they could be brought in by their friends playing that night. Sound equipment sucked and drinks were unbearably high priced, so much so that most people snuck in bottles of Yanjing under their shirts, in their bags, in whatever manner they could. But listening to the bands that were dedicated enough to keep practicing and doing shows was pure joy, a break from the gray, crowded, grinding reality of living in Beijing.

　　On a snowy, cold New Year's Eve, an evening of good music promised to unfold at a massive party in the "cafeteria" of the old Central Art Academy. It was sure to be packed, as most of the usual audience lived at the school. It was free, and there was plenty of undercover Yanjing to go around. One of Beijing's top three bands - there were only three bands that played regular shows - was heading the bill and was set to open with two unknown bands to follow. Folks were bristling with excitement because of the holiday, because we all knew we'd hear some good tunes from the opening band, and mostly because we had the chance to hear something new, something different from the established routine.