“There was a construction site on the other side of the red-brick wall, so a number of shirtless migrant workers mounted ladders to watch,” wrote Zhang in an undated and frequently quoted reminiscence called the “True Records of the First Midi Music Festival.” “I said, ‘Come on in, brothers,’ and they all came. Longtime fans are calling on Chinese bands to innovate their sound With free entry, free beer, and advertising mostly by word-of-mouth to 1,000 or so attendees, it was “special,” according to Midi principal Zhang Fan. While there had been multi-band music events in the 1990s, the first to use the term “festival” (节), and emphasize such a rowdy atmosphere, was a two-day student and alumni recital held in the auditorium of Beijing’s Midi School of Music over 2000’s Labor Day holiday. Like most cultural imports in China’s post-reform era, it’s easy to pinpoint the exact sweat-soaked, denim-clad moment that festivals first plugged themselves into the mainland’s music scene. “If I don’t shed tears, then at least I can shed some sweat.” “It’s now more a consumption habit, not a listening one,” says Shao. Ticket prices have also risen, to around 900 RMB for a typical three-day pass-20 percent of the average graduate monthly salary. The free kegs at Chinese festivals in the legendary early 2000s are gone, replaced by swanky beverage tents sponsored by global brands like Bacardi or Monster Energy Drink, though are otherwise substance-free (New Pants’ lyrics remained the most debauched moment of the entire East Sea weekend). In China, as elsewhere, consumerism has transformed formerly countercultural festivals into mainstream entertainment, often held during public holidays such as Labor Day in May or October’s National Day “golden week,” and timed to give early spring previews or late-autumn last hurrahs to the tourist season in lower-tier cities and scenic areas. In terms of the actual sound, the artistry, there are better options,” admits fans like Shao, who says he usually looks for quality music and innovative bands in livehouses, bars, or simply on apps like Spotify. Today’s festivals, “are more of a lifestyle choice. It’s a message that seemed especially apt among East Sea’s closing night crowd, most of whom would have been in primary school when New Pants released their controversial hit, but shouted along regardless to the word-salad lyrics that were reportedly cut from New Pants’ first Big Band episode: “Let’s go wild/…Never go outside!”īut while China’s music festivals appear to be more popular and numerous than ever, promoters, founders, and fans have expressed concerns that the festivals’ original freewheeling spirit is at risk of being permanently diluted by an array of imitators, overzealous regulators, jumpy officials, and greedy organizers. Ska-punk band The Brickska rehearses before their performance “At this stage we still have some space to exist, a process of resistance.” Introducing himself as a “long-time supporter of Chinese rock,” Shao views outdoor festivals as the last outpost of rock ’n’ roll rebellion in a rising tide of conformity and commercialism. “I think the future of the entire rock scene, and of music and bands, is in live performance,” a 30-year-old programmer from Shanghai, surnamed Shao, declares from the audience at September’s East Sea Music Festival in Zhoushan, Zhejiang province. To many who’ve followed the mass popularity of the iQiyi show with trepidation, the chance to hear the lyrics unmolested was why they spend hours traveling to the increasingly remote locations of Chinese festivals in the first place-often braving unruly crowds, traffic, and even typhoons to do so. But this year’s festival audiences had been trading semi-satiric mutterings that the recent winners of iQiyi’s campy web reality show The Big Band, who have lately shot ads for corporations like JD.com, might have bowdlerized their own provocative song title to something more like “Beauty Queens, Cough Medicine, E-Mail.” Released in a 2011 album of the same name, this Ian Drury tribute by synth-rock/punk band New Pants parodied the spiritual emptiness of today’s youth. To the surprise of few old fans, and delight of many new ones, “Sex, Drugs, Internet” struck manic chords at music festivals across China this fall, even if just in song.
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