C.Y.Kong

香港音乐比较妖 尤其九几年 很玩乐很末世很有实验气质 让人印象深刻 可能还有殖民地的因素 受英国影响厉害 英国音乐不用说了 主流点的beatles到glam rock到britpop这一堆 多少乐队多少歌手都是妖怪级别的！

台 湾最动人的部分还是民谣运动滚石繁盛时期的那种人文感厚重感 把很多中国化的精神保留得最好也体现得最好 现在...乐团很厉害 不过他们是偏东亚的 崇 尚天真单纯(褒义) 五月天陈绮贞苏打绿这些 突出的都是那种teenager感觉 跟香港的纸醉金迷比好像就是愤怒青年和颓丧中年的差别XD

个人意见而已 也并不是要比出高下...个人觉得香港音乐最好的部分几乎是全盘西化 再说粤语文化跟中土文化的差别大概比中国和一些近邻国家差的还要远 很多想法价值观的内核其实对大陆听者来说是相当陌生的

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包括对学校的重视...其实学生啊校园啊这些都是一种价值观象征 重点不在于技术设备 而是内里的精神 (可惜的是在今时今日的中国大学 至少我所在的大学 这样的气氛已经完全失落)

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首先是语言隔阂 其次就是价值观 香港妖的那些说到底是英国人六七十年代开始玩了二十几年玩剩下的东西 综合政局和经济形势 在20世纪末的香港再次爆发而已 大陆人很难真正有共鸣
音乐里的归属感很重要 台湾这点比较强 伍佰啊罗大佑啊五月天的一些东西 就是彻彻底底只能在台湾产生的音乐 因此有集体共鸣 当然香港也有 最近的话喜帖街 但这是优势也是局限

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何韵诗那张确实好 或者说hocc一直都很不错
不过创作能力是个问题
我一直喜欢能自己创作 有自己哲学在歌里折射出来的歌手 当然在这个基础上技术好旋律好就更牛叉了 好像雷光夏张悬 歌和词都真的好偏偏唱得..Orz 可能我不懂欣赏这样的民谣腔吧 倒是蛮有味道的
ns 最突出就是big voice 不要想着往小众或深刻哲学上靠 不是这个路数 我爱她就是爱她这嗓子 还有她无敌的表达能力 能把歌唱得摧枯拉 朽 hell of a singer...说起来她很推崇MC 我觉得吧 技巧上还是多学学WH 或者近一点的leona lewis 这位跟她是真的 很像！

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坛子里随手写的贴过来 很装和偏颇 现在被几个渣败了兴致
这是我反对一切粉丝团体的理由 根本上的大一统大平庸思想 哪怕是LY群的准入制度 要我说 纯属NC或者在我清高症状发作的时候 会觉得生存状态收到侵犯吧 思想的贫瘠和暴力在这里根深蒂固 或者也可以做个嘲笑着的旁观者 也乐得观赏你们无知无畏 这个角色我只是扮演得太多了
某些人类 去听个几张大碟来再跟我辩论 不过这大概也不是办法 更致命的东西无法改变 更本质的差别无法掩饰 或者是我的性格 在发现沟通是徒劳的并且对方如此不可理喻之后会迅速放弃任何通路 何苦要为那些渣伤到自己! 辩论是双方愈发固执己见的过程 除此无他 并且我的自虐倾向还不至于到跟毫无主见只是乐于展示无知并怀有敌意的人类辩论 它们那种态度确实下流
这就是我能做到最好的告解 或者说其实又是羸弱的文人病 我可以作出鄙夷的态度 但是无法阻止内心受到伤害感觉的蔓延
只是又一个没有水准的讨论帖子而已 不应该认真 也不应该有人受到伤害 可是我仍然会为了最小的一个不平衡感气得发抖

========故作豁达的分割线=======

说到香港的英伦气质就不能不说C.Y.Kong 我心里大约55%的王菲形象是由他支撑起来 11岁听到<只爱>大约可以排进此生最幸运事件前五名 音乐观和部分人生观也就此形成 XD 直接导致现在的对港/台各自风格的亲疏 我喜欢工业化的冷漠和疏离感 我喜欢缺陷和怪人 喜欢边缘文化 太空风格怪诞荒谬不知所谓目中无人 尤其喜欢有能力把这些东西表现地很华丽很艺术的妖怪们 因为我观念中的世界就是如此 对物质的认识也是如此 人生无意义 无道理 无必然 我们要有极端和歇斯底里的心态 “装B没问题 平庸的东西就最好都给我去死一死”这个意思
C.Y.满足了所有的幻想 才听到他demo的开到荼蘼(Distort) 哇！这样一个大妖怪 居然还拥有了robert smith的声线！简直就是烟视媚行嘛！情绪不需要任何对象 那都是依赖都是樊篱 都是阻挠音乐摧枯拉朽的安慰剂 当王菲(借助林夕)摒弃一个假想的“你”作为听众 是她的革命和伟大的起源 洞察人心却又目中无人的人 才可能成为领袖 音乐也是 当你觉得没有任何选择只有被牵着走 才会真正爱上一首歌 因为没有办法成为它 只能追随只能仰望 它不会在意你是否喜欢 因为不喜欢的人早已经被它换以更羞辱性的鄙夷和排斥 这是不由分说的核爆式的力量
thom yorke对coldplay的批评最致命的地方也正在此 一旦有妥协动摇 哪怕仅仅是平庸的企图 都会把你的音乐拉进lifestyle music的沼泽
(矛盾的是RH以及整个音乐工业的商业化 伟大的歌曲还是需要市场助推 不平等性不仅仅在歌里更在歌外 是什么人决定了让我们听到什么？并且歌迷的崇拜有多大程度也是被操控的？这就是庶民的悲哀啊口胡！自以为清醒 沾沾自喜得到了好东西 其实也不过是别人吃剩下的)
这样一比 湾湾果然好朴实XD 始终有校园气质 始终眷恋农业文明的平铺直叙表达 归根究底还是“精神内核”这等装B词汇 一切都是有迹可寻的 合理的 在掌控范围之内的 易懂 真诚 靠谱 陈杏红可以有一百种说法来诉说自己的苦闷 但他的歌词里只会有玫瑰彩虹小叮当绝对不会出现安非他命(黄老妖我不是针对你XD) 连雌雄同体这种ms会开出墙去的的题材！表达方式都是正统的清晰的 规规矩矩的drumline 雄壮的贝司 整齐的歌词 绝不为听众带来曲折和困扰 好多人觉得苏打绿很妖 我说...青轰骨子里根本热血得很! 看破红尘或自以为看破红尘的老混蛋只会嘲讽 才不会发出青春无解的呐喊囧 陈绮贞更不用说 她唱f word我都觉得无比单纯 这是一个喜欢在形容词前面加小的地方 适合的也是小小的柔软的老少咸宜的音乐 好歌手都是老师的感觉...要放到香港你喊黄伟文叫老师 我都不敢想像那后果...
总之 innocence/sophistication在港台两地的博弈结果非常明显 港人在骨子里离我们是很远的 也就因此非常有异域文化的美感 并也就因此吸引了无知青年我 @@ 借kyd所言 如若生在小不列颠 估计我们这种人也会对禅宗茶道什么的推崇备至 而对身边一帮没事嗑药摔盆砸锅的疯子嗤之以鼻

豆瓣的乐评基本都是粉丝心态了 越来越少有人保持着谨慎的距离 我是老了么 过去那种不顾一切的热情已经消失 总是想着冷静...赛门叔叔这个词真不错 self-indulgent nonsense 不过抬眼皮看 前面那段说C.Y.Kong的 还是很好地保留了这种NC劲头的XD

Molko以前不太喜欢 还觉得跟tokio hotel那非主流主唱有点像...看了天鹅绒金矿和live with pixies之后，我终于认识到，以貌取人是不对的Orz
布莱恩，请看我真诚的眼睛！虽然你很美，但是你真的很牛啊!! T T

诚然 人不是一定要有阴影才能创作出好的艺术 虽然这个概率大很多..也许是叛逆心理和富家子都是草包的刻板印象 如果碰巧这富家子又生得漂亮...这误解会很可怕
然而相貌和物质确实会对人产生决定性的影响 就像看CD唱at seventeen 她还不算倾国倾城 我都已经觉得频率不合 “love was meant for beauty queens...the valentines I never knew”只能是Janis这样不美的女孩子在青春期的自卑里写出来 唱出来有点无所谓 又有点羞愤 尖锐和真实得像牙痛一样 知道自己漂亮的人不会懂
还有很多的事 我们其实都怀有巨大的偏见 比如演员为什么要漂亮 当然你可以说实力派不需要 但我看到红地毯的本能反应还是挑剔地检查每个女人的妆容和礼服 在多数表演学校 外貌至少也是个硬指标 可是 可是 这些美丽的人 精致的五官长长的腿 从小接受着美人的待遇 又凭借着这美披荆斩棘拓展着自己的人生 他们如何理解更多的人不美的人的世界？他们全盘配套的世界观？进而在戏里用所谓的演技去触及这些曲折的 多半会让他们感到茫然的情感？崔健说艺术家要保持敏锐就必须过相对清贫的生活 嗯 我确实觉得当一个人活在聚光灯下 拍三个月的戏挣3千万美刀的时候 他和一个会怀着不安和挣扎渡过漫长黑夜的灵魂离得比较远
而当一个怀有这种痛苦的人出现 我又不会想看他 不过是一个跟我一样的普通人 我也痛苦着 为什么要花时间看你？再说你并不美 而当你站到人人都看得见的舞台上 有了这些我遥不可及的资源和话语权 你已经不是和我一样的人
就是这样 就是这样 就是这么的虚伪 不耐于那些比我更卑微的 屈服于那些比我更伟大的 再堆砌一些词藻去歌颂 从这种虚假的热情中得到一点点安慰

the 101st

Grandpa passed away yesterday. I've been mentally prepared, probably for years, yet the final moment of inevitable was still a bit too much to bear. When mom murmured "daddy" and stuff and the signal went out something exploded in my head or imploded maybe. For a while before redialing I was blank and sweating as if the fear came true in the worst way it can be. And then I realized that might be grandpa and it was. But someday, very likely someday the thing I fear the most would happen. And I could be on the other side of the phone, alone or with a stranger I then live my life with. And that would be truly mad. And it's neither me or mom or dad who breaks down, and I genuinly hope that one to be me. This time there had been no cue, except that I had this urge to call mom from early in the afternoon coz I was thinking of going jogging in the evening. And I've long been in this anxious mind of state to think it over and over to get prepared and everything ready from my hair to the outfit and contact lenses to start jogging. I've been preparing for weeks before this seems okay to start. And now I dont know when I really can. The beginning of the new semester signified nothing but more mental comflicts eating me up day by day. I grew really impatient or rather afraid whenever whoever ask me about what I wanna do a year later or what way to choose. Its so very tiring and frustrating to ponder over the bloody uncertainty of my future, given the reality that right here right now I'm already in a mess. As if nothing ever wakes me up since I've been back here. Everytime. Some of my senses would auotomatically shut up the moment I set my feet on the soil of beijing, and then I sleepwalk through several months of life before heading home and becoming alive again. But the dayz in Nanjing would just be wandering abouts and dreamlike pleasures which lead me nowhere. But again I dont really wanna go anywhere. If only I could be static while life passes me by. I'll make a wonderful observer I promise but just leave me alone. The other day I read sth on autism which said that the fear to fluorescent lamp and noise can be a symptom, probably linked to the so-called sensory overload. I know I dont really belong but still felt convinced and consoled, the way I sympathize with the brokenness and flawed beauty in people and things. I am dark enough to see their light. And screwed by those stronger than me. They are just so very tiring and dull. I admit this selfishness and self-consciousness from time to time.
I havent talked to Marianne for years, and rarely think of her. I was once overwhelmed by the similarity between the two of us but soon found out it was largely my imagination. And I regretted openning up too soon for telling her the expectation thing and the drinking-from-an-empty-cup blah which was totally over dramatic now it seems, I just really liked this expression and wanted to use it somewhere. I put it in two writings in a short period of time and what a shame someone found I doing so. I've got this remarkable memory about these littlest things that others probably gives no shit about. I pick them up and carry along to play with when I'm alone, or ashamed. They radiate this strange attraction always and I feel addicted. Other than the bits and pieces I dont really have gained anything throughout these years I guess. Still an idiot on relationships. Except in one or two cases I managed to maintain, generally I just mess up and give up. I'm a phenominal and very very dramatic quitter so to speak. I start almost every relationship with a plan to throw it away, and more oftenly I leave midway before its too late and it grew too strong. Or maybe its just those who I meet are not good enough. Intimacy is to me, scary and something to avoid. I despise those who disagree and are hurt by those who think alike. Mom doesnt regard any of my difficulties as real, saying that they are mere product of a too easy a life and lack of experience. I partly agree but am still convinced its my personality. The artistic type and stuff. But no improvement by the years. I'm neither more knowledgable nor wiser. Its just day after day wasted in self-pity and reassuring what has already been confirmed. This is no good, yet unstoppable. As if nothing would uproot me, purify me body and soul, and an after life maybe after nirvana. Not any book or any words or even grandpa's death. Sometimes a piece of melody or two lines from someone's lyrics but all so very ephemeral. I still have the AHDH thing which hampers me from reading anything longer than maybe 120 words. Anxiety has taken hold of me and I know I've tried to tell the same old stuff from maybe 3 years ago and still not over. Sometimes some others say it for me and the form is way better, almost amounting to art. I would shut up soon if I cant do even this better.
I do want to write something about grandpa. How he tenderly took care of me when I was young. But all these years its been this hospitalization thing that had worn everybody out. The last memory was then his bony hands and close-to-deaf ears. I feel sorry everytime I visited him. It's not that I'm heartless, it's just this great great feeling of helplessness. Mom would spent two hours everyday just to keep him company. Our visits mainly consisted of reading him newspaper and talking about our whereabouts. I told him too little about my college life, coz I dont like it and sure dont like talking about it. But I should have sensed earlier that he liked hearing about it. For compesation or some kind of unknown emotion I talked about a hell lot of my college the last time we met. Now its really the very last time. He was happy and he cried. From about three years ago he started to express his happiness with tears, he couldnt control and the expression of emotions just magically or naturally simplified itself. Sometimes he grew tired of talking and would lie there staring at the ceiling instead. But before we left he would insist on buying us the food in case we get hungry on the way, and said that he had been thinking really hard just now about how many eggs each of us should carry. We would play at it and kindly laugh at him being stupid again but I know mom and auntie dont feel well. Its been a tiring and scary journey from day one grandpa was in hospital. If its mom or dad I'm not even sure whether I could get through all these days. To be fair, its a peaceful death at a proper age relieving him from years of pain and the family the grave concern. But we would still cry however prepared we are. Mom sounds much better today on the phone. Dad's fine. He's been sacrificing too much I say. It's time we all get some peace. Although I dont know when can we really get over the grief. Speaking of grief, I am unable to tell how I am feeling. Coz I've been feeling fake about so many things for so long, I see me from every angle and Im just obsessed to watch whats happening to me. Nothing really makes much sense now and I'm getting stupid. All I have is the remote memory of grandpa feeding me with a spoon from a stainless steel cup, washing my face with his gentle palm from the warm shallow water, buying me the red mickey mouse swimming suit. Thats my knowledge about unconditional love long before I could name it. And he was an upright person, but its not the aspect from which I wanna remember him. I feel close to the personal trivial stuff, things only we know, coz you dont brag about those kind of things so its just the peaceful nice warm memory between the two of us, and his illness probably stole it from him long along, and now that he's gone for good I'll remember it alone. But I dont wanna be too dramatic about this coz its just so common a thing that probably most people just secretly share. But they are just too far away as if from the last life.
Grandpa, rest in peace. We'll meet again someday so dont worry, just enjoy the days. It has been a long,nice life. And from now on it'll be a long, nice dream with no pain and disturbance I promise. Come to me if you wish.