Study hard. Get a job. Make money. Produce offspring. Die. And so life goes on for over a billion people who live in the People’s Republic of China. Former Chinese President Deng Xiaoping proclaimed, “To get rich is glorious,” and from this mantra, a new ideology was born. This way of life is being pursued with the kind of unquestioning fervor last seen during the Cultural Revolution. Dare to pursue alternate motives from what this new money-hungry society dictates, and doom not only your future but also that of your progeny.

If believed, Wu Ningyue’s unborn child already faces a grim future. He is the lead singer of the folk-rock group Buyi (Common People) formed in Yinchuan, the capital city of the Ningxia province in remote western China. Unlike the rest of the members of his band, Wu Ningyue actually made it through high school. The rest dropped out to play music and drink beer, but they all ended up in the same situation. Now the band lives in Beijing alongside several other Ningxia natives who, like themselves are too restless to do anything but play music. For not subscribing to a scripted life, they are labeled by society as simply guai—strange people whose actions and wishes are incomprehensible to the common person.

Buyi came into the urban derangement of Beijing for exposure and to test out the hashish, raucous bar streets and foreign girlfriends. Despite the toxic environment with its sell-outs and pianzis (cheaters), they admit that Beijing offers the largest group of music connoisseurs in China. Amidst this vulgarized life full of foreign influences, it is surprising that Buyi has lost neither their spiritual nor cultural connection to music. The Beijing pollution seems to strengthen the more traditional aspects in their songs, and generates a powerful mutation of Chinese folk-rock. This success is partially explained by their roots in China’s west. Having grown up on the frontier, Buyi and other Ningxia musicians admire and echo China’s ethnic music. Their sound has a distinctly different feel than that of musicians coming out of the populous east, which has led critics to tack on the work “folk” whenever referring to Buyi’s form of rock and roll.

Ningxia was annexed after the 1949 revolution for the Hui minority, one of the nation’s Muslim ethnic groups. It borders Inner Mongolia, with a landscape dominated by sand dunes and impressive winds. This backdrop affected the region’s musical traditions including a musical scale that lacks the notes fa and ti, giving songs a rough, lonely edge. In the mid-eighties to early nineties, bands like Cui Jian (the Godfather of Chinese Rock), Black Panther, Tang Dynasty, and later, Cold Blooded Animals, gave young Ningxia musicians their first taste of rock. The new sounds enticed them as a vehicle of expression without traditional music’s constriction. As the black market in foreign recordings expanded, classic rock such as the Doors, the Rolling Stones, the Grateful Dead, Pink Floyd, Bob Marley, and the Velvet Underground became available to curious musicians. Those like Buyi—who relocated to Beijing— were also able to get their hands on various world beats like Gotan Project, Manu Chao, Portishead, and Buena Vista Social Club. Wu Ningyue speaks for the group and describes their influences as “anything with jinr,” or powerful force, but he still favors the simple Ningxia aesthetic.

Since Buyi’s inception ten years ago, their fundamental sound has barely changed. While dipping into the occasional reggae beat, they stick to classic rock augmented by traditional instruments and vocals. Their lead guitarist also plays the guzhang, a Chinese string instrument with over 2,000 years of history. The guzhang is laid flat and played by plucking horizontal strings while simultaneously vibrating them, creating a quivering sound that resembles flowing water. The hulusi, a gourd flute, the electric cello, and the western trumpet all add sounds that juxtapose the sound of modern instruments in Buyi. Zhang Wei, the guitar/guzhang player suggests that using such contrasting elements creates a version of rock that is uniquely Chinese.

“We have to take western rock and roll and make it our own by adding elements of our own culture.” “That’s why we use instruments like the guzhang,” says Zhang Wei. “I’ve been playing the guzhang since I was seven, long before I ever touched a guitar. So it is with this background that I approach the electric guitar. I always experiment with the guitar, at times pushing its sound toward that natural feel that you can get with the guzhang.”

It is surprising that after so many years of producing quality music, the band has yet to gain a similar popularity felt by mainstream bands. They have performed on Chinese national television, and have four self-released albums, but still struggle to pay the rent, turning to family, girlfriends and the occasional part-time job for money.

“Modernization is occurring too quickly, and people, swept up in the change, are losing touch with their heritage and culture. Real music is losing out.”

Their main hurtle involves getting into a studio and making a high quality recording. The financial burden of doing this has prevented Buyi and many other promising bands from releasing CDs on anything but small, local labels.

For now the members of Buyi seem content to remain on the cusp of greatness as they continue to mature their music and wait for the right opportunity. Some would call this lacking foresight, but they simply think of it as the constant pace of spiritual survival — and in China, one might consider that in itself the definition of success.







		cotton cloth band (buyi) Study hard. Get a job. Make money. Produce offspring. Die. And so life goes on for over a billion people who live in the People’s Republic of China. Former Chinese President Deng Xiaoping proclaimed, “To get rich is glorious,” and from this mantra, a new ideology was born. This way of life is being pursued with the kind of unquestioning fervor last seen during the Cultural Revolution. Dare to pursue alternate motives from what this new money-hungry society dictates, and doom not only your future but also that of your progeny. If believed, Wu Ningyue’s unborn child already faces a grim future. He is the lead singer of the folk-rock group Buyi (Common People) formed in Yinchuan, the capital city of the Ningxia province in remote western China. Unlike the rest of the members of his band, Wu Ningyue actually made it through high school. The rest dropped out to play music and drink beer, but they all ended up in the same situation. Now the band lives in Beijing alongside several other Ningxia natives who, like themselves are too restless to do anything but play music. For not subscribing to a scripted life, they are labeled by society as simply guai—strange people whose actions and wishes are incomprehensible to the common person. Buyi came into the urban derangement of Beijing for exposure and to test out the hashish, raucous bar streets and foreign girlfriends. Despite the toxic environment with its sell-outs and pianzis (cheaters), they admit that Beijing offers the largest group of music connoisseurs in China. Amidst this vulgarized life full of foreign influences, it is surprising that Buyi has lost neither their spiritual nor cultural connection to music. The Beijing pollution seems to strengthen the more traditional aspects in their songs, and generates a powerful mutation of Chinese folk-rock. This success is partially explained by their roots in China’s west. Having grown up on the frontier, Buyi and other Ningxia musicians admire and echo China’s ethnic music. Their sound has a distinctly different feel than that of musicians coming out of the populous east, which has led critics to tack on the work “folk” whenever referring to Buyi’s form of rock and roll. Ningxia was annexed after the 1949 revolution for the Hui minority, one of the nation’s Muslim ethnic groups. It borders Inner Mongolia, with a landscape dominated by sand dunes and impressive winds. This backdrop affected the region’s musical traditions including a musical scale that lacks the notes fa and ti, giving songs a rough, lonely edge. In the mid-eighties to early nineties, bands like Cui Jian (the Godfather of Chinese Rock), Black Panther, Tang Dynasty, and later, Cold Blooded Animals, gave young Ningxia musicians their first taste of rock. The new sounds enticed them as a vehicle of expression without traditional music’s constriction. As the black market in foreign recordings expanded, classic rock such as the Doors, the Rolling Stones, the Grateful Dead, Pink Floyd, Bob Marley, and the Velvet Underground became available to curious musicians. Those like Buyi—who relocated to Beijing— were also able to get their hands on various world beats like Gotan Project, Manu Chao, Portishead, and Buena Vista Social Club. Wu Ningyue speaks for the group and describes their influences as “anything with jinr,” or powerful force, but he still favors the simple Ningxia aesthetic. Since Buyi’s inception ten years ago, their fundamental sound has barely changed. While dipping into the occasional reggae beat, they stick to classic rock augmented by traditional instruments and vocals. Their lead guitarist also plays the guzhang, a Chinese string instrument with over 2,000 years of history. The guzhang is laid flat and played by plucking horizontal strings while simultaneously vibrating them, creating a quivering sound that resembles flowing water. The hulusi, a gourd flute, the electric cello, and the western trumpet all add sounds that juxtapose the sound of modern instruments in Buyi. Zhang Wei, the guitar/guzhang player suggests that using such contrasting elements creates a version of rock that is uniquely Chinese. “We have to take western rock and roll and make it our own by adding elements of our own culture.” “That’s why we use instruments like the guzhang,” says Zhang Wei. “I’ve been playing the guzhang since I was seven, long before I ever touched a guitar. So it is with this background that I approach the electric guitar. I always experiment with the guitar, at times pushing its sound toward that natural feel that you can get with the guzhang.” It is surprising that after so many years of producing quality music, the band has yet to gain a similar popularity felt by mainstream bands. They have performed on Chinese national television, and have four self-released albums, but still struggle to pay the rent, turning to family, girlfriends and the occasional part-time job for money. “Modernization is occurring too quickly, and people, swept up in the change, are losing touch with their heritage and culture. Real music is losing out.” Their main hurtle involves getting into a studio and making a high quality recording. The financial burden of doing this has prevented Buyi and many other promising bands from releasing CDs on anything but small, local labels. For now the members of Buyi seem content to remain on the cusp of greatness as they continue to mature their music and wait for the right opportunity. Some would call this lacking foresight, but they simply think of it as the constant pace of spiritual survival — and in China, one might consider that in itself the definition of success. — Emily Weaver featured in Issue 9