Lone lyricist wails against death of diversity
- Source: Global Times
- [09:46 September 21 2009]
- Comments
By Zhang Yuchen
Seven young Primi ethnic minority women perform folk songs and dances at the Laoshe Teahouse in Beijing with Tufeng Project founder Chen Zhe on August 14, 2006.
Young Primi men attend a promotion meeting for Chen Zhe's Tufeng Project held in Beijing on December 27, 2007. Photos: CFP
Few understand this thin, dark-skinned, romantic author of arguably the best-known popular song in modern Chinese history.
Former steelworker Chen Zhe left Beijing in 1989, but came back to the motherland in 1992 and has now devoted the last 15 years of his life to a largely desperate, lonely and fruitless battle to save China's once-rich ethnic diversity.
"Someone once labeled me a 'lonely pioneer'," Chen says, "but actually I'm not alone, maybe just a decade or so ahead of my time."
Long dark hair, long black T-shirt and long black trousers, the 55-year-old writer of "A Song for All" (Tong Yi Shou Ge) and other 1990s' smash hits professes to often feeling much misunderstood.
"I cannot exactly answer and tell you who, what I am,' says Chen, in a soft, slightly hesitant voice. "Besides, even if I could find an exact answer, nobody would have any idea what I was talking about."
Chen "opened a new era in China pop music," according to China Story, a China Central Television (CCTV) show broadcast in December 2008. "His songs are sung by singers of all generations and in every corner of China today."
"A Song for All" revolutionized Chinese mainland songwriting and remains adored for its compassionate, unpretentious and timeless lyricism. Despite not containing a single reference to "China" or "motherland", "A Song for All" was co-opted by authorities as a patriotic standard. One CCTV variety show even named itself after Chen's optimistic little ditty.
"My enthusiasm has never faded," he says, "and my faculty for reasoning if anything has gone from strength to strength, especially since age 30."
During an interview that lasts more than six hours, Chen does not pause except to puff on one of about a dozen Yunyan cigarettes.
"I am much more naive than my middle school classmates," Chen says with a kind of proud smile.
"When I speak, my words and ideas terrify them."
Chen is not particularly proud of China's much-touted, miraculous industrial development. The nation's core strength, as he sees it, is its soft power, the cultural and ethnic diversity that "can't be copied."
"As people become homogenized, with high-speed trains and developed industries, they may suddenly realize they have lost too much.
"The developed world underwent this overhaul through the course of 400 years whereas China has finished the job in 30 years," Chen says.
By developing fast and rough, China is also deleting its own unique cultural and ethnic diversity.
"One day," Chen says, "foreigners from developed countries visiting China may be astounded by the country's progress and recognize its material achievements as on the same par as their own country.
"Meanwhile they may also wonder, "'Is this China? Where are the fantastic, so-called 55 minorities? It's no different from any other parts of the world'." Chen leans forward on the couch staring at the sunset through his loft window.
"Because by then, the cultures may all have gone."
Diversity is a precondition for harmony, he argues.
"If there is only one type or one sort, we needn't pursue harmony.
"And the purpose of harmony is not to eliminate differences but to let diversity coexist, coexist while maintaining the differences."
