to all the readers of this blog, from Michigan to Morocco, I apologize for the lack of updates this past week. i just moved apartments and now I’m traveling to America for two weeks, so updates may come sporadically in the short-term.
Nice track.
Fan Death – Veronica’s Veil
First piece I wrote for SmartShanghai. Peep
There’s really sleazy cats in Shanghai. My friend’s cat got pregnant sixteen times; all different fathers, different colored kittens, etc. This afternoon, I walked into my friend’s compound and immediately the fumes and sounds of a rather violent cat orgy confronted me. Clearly not all members wanted to participate.
Been running around, playing my favorite real life video game – riding a bike in Shanghai. Busy trying to find apartments/fireworks, and writing. I get to interview DJ Vadim tomorrow, as he’s coming to Shanghai on Jan. 30th. One time at a hostel last summer, I was sitting down next to these Russian kids, kinda awkwardly, and finally I said “yo, do you know DJ Vadim?” one Russian kid responded, “Oooooooooooooo shit, how you know?! My name is Vadim too,” and a wild night commenced. I remember him explaining the rules to a game:
Russian kid: We call this ‘drink the vodka.’ First, I pour you a glass, you drink. Then, you turn to the person next to you and pour them a glass, they drink. We do this until bottle is finished.
Shanghainese landlord really pulled some bullshit yesterday, posting an ad on craigslist for a “two-bedroom” apartment in the French Concession. Translation = 10 sqm closet on the second floor of her elderly parent’s home.
I made my non-interest abundantly clear.
Me: Ummm, so this is a quiet place yeah? With your parents living downstairs?
Landlady: Yes, very very quiet.
Me: Ok, because I don’t know if that’s a good fit. I play music really loud all hours of the day. Plus, on weekends I sometimes come home when the sun rises or just before, often with other people, and we’d probably keep the party going here, on the stairs and stuff.
Landlady: Oh. We won’t have anyone like that living here.
After disco became “gay” in America, it just switched names to “house.” This original disco track and subsequent house remix can explain this better than me.
Oliver Cheatham – Get Down Saturday Night
DJ Kom – Git Down Saturday Night
For months I dreamed of introducing Shanghai’s anti-corruption crusader, Pang Laoshi, to the world via this blog. I caught him a few times on rides to Xujiahui, though painfully cameraless. Well, it’s finally here. If you ride Line One, perhaps you’ve encountered the “fat teacher” who lectures for “six hours a day.”
Realized I needed to spend a bunch of small change tonight, so in addition to stocking up on non-toxic water, I tried some new snacks.
One time my Chinese friend brought some duck necks to a party, a turning point in the night. People got smug about their “openness” and “willingness to try new things,” leading the less daring toward feelings of backwardness. I admit they’re not bad; similar to sausage. The bone in the middle stops me from devouring a whole pack.
Next up – Waxberries. Like every other snack in the store, the nice clerk hadn’t tried these. I don’t even bother asking the grumpy one who generally stays perched on a stool in the back, until I arrive and she follows me around, visibly irritated, gawking like I’m going to steal something.
Waxberries embody several qualities I hate in food; messy, weak flavor, and something hard in the middle to surprise/destroy teeth. Luckily,cappuccino Koala Yummies came through in the clutch at fifty cents a box.
I wonder what those middle-aged Chinese women think when a foreigner waltzes in at near midnight, wandering around staring at food and taking pictures from various angles…
“A-Grade” dunk highs. I don’t even know if this model “really” exists. When copies become so good that one can’t tell the difference, is there a difference? Can “real” and “fake” converge and explode into meaninglessness?
My favorite fake sneaker spot, in Hongkou district. I told them to carry more dunk highs last time I went there, and it appears they got a few. According to the laoban (boss), Chinese kids really prefer Air Force 1′s at the moment; not much love for high-tops. They’re fake, but their comfort and quality make me believe they really do “come out a different door” of the factory, as many claim of the best bootlegs here. About $25 US a pair.
Those De La’s do look too bunk to rock.
The hunt for new tracks begins. Came up with a really solid funk tune for today, thanks to G. Davis holdin’ it down in The Mitten. Speaking of music, anyone in Shanghai should come to the warehouse party my friend’s throwing tonight at No. 56, 767 Wanhangdu Lu (Kangding Lu and Wanhangdu Lu). No cover. Playing some “moody disco” and other warehouse-appropriate genres.
On with the rare funk…
George Clinton – Man’s Best Friend
Thanks to all who came out to Baijiu Robot last night. All the right elements came together: baijiu, Italo Disco, dancing, and malfunctioning electronics (software seizure, fickle soundcard) that recovered at the last possible minute.
I love the area around Baoshan Lu metro station on line four. A small shop in the station has the best five kuai ice cream in town, and the exit escalator leads directly into an open market of electronics (often sketchy), street food, broken bricks, and sex toys. I couldn’t find any fireworks.
Even happened upon a good old-fashioned street fight. The fracas erupted after dude crashed his bike into someone on the corner.
Not much to say; I’m up way too late and need to be on the subway in four hours.
I hated this album when I first heard it, and still don’t love most of it, but I do enjoy this song when I’m sprinting to Jing An Temple station in the morning.
The Mae Shi – Pwned
Everyone who played the Antidote/Jue Fest party on Saturday at Shelter just killed it. Hands down, one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. Some hard electronic dudes from Beijing, Dead J and ummm….some other Chinese guy wearing all black and sunglasses who looked like he might murder someone with a lawnmower expressionlessly, and everyone else came mad correct.
This video isn’t from Saturday, but it gives some kind of idea to the Funky Fingers set, only with like two hundred people dancing.
And the musics…
Turns out Japanese people like more than just graphic violence, excessively cute cartoon characters, inventions/designs that appear in coffee table books bought by people who live in gentrifying areas, and tentacle porn. some remix j-pop into club bangers for bloggers to consume… mmmmm….j-pop blogcore.
Girl Next Door – Jounetsu No Daishou (Shinichi Osawa Remix)
Dude has a ton of other great tracks. Google blog search that shit -
must stop.. eating…japanese pork cutlet rice bowl…
sometimes I find a track that’s so ill, I don’t even wanna post it. The link between Italo Disco and Detroit Techno. This came out in 1980, in the D.
I will play this on Thursday. Robots will dance to it.
A Number of Names – Shari Vari
Major props to The Walrus for hosting this track..I spent an hour looking for it.
I’ve known this “homeless person” for a year and a half. I’ve also seen him carry his crutches, strutting around casually after a night of pulling on heartstrings. Ran into him last night for this photo-op outside the South Rakkas Crew show at Shelter.
I really looked forward to the Rakkas, but instead of enjoying the music, they schooled me on what doesn’t work in Shanghai. An important lesson for an aspiring BUTTON MASHING DJ.
1) Playing mainstream hip hop tracks but making it “real” by having some Jamaican guy rap non sequiturs over them.
2) Saying “this fo’ all my sexy/single/hot/sleazy/crusty ladies in the house” like nineteen times. Yo d00d, we paid RMB50 for the show too, and I know you’re not trying to fuck us, but maybe we could get a shoutout too?
3) Using those lines to holler at mediocre -2 Chinese chicks. Have you never seen AZN girls before? I’ve seen way hotter girls selling houndstooth scarves at the fake market than the girls you used all those hype lines on.
4) Casually increasing the BPM by ten to make the white “i used to steal my parents post-divorce prescription pills,” sunglasses in the club, hipster trashrave kids dance while alienating everyone not on drugs sold by some sketchy African/gay European.
5) Not even trying to battle, or call me out when I shouted “FUCK YOU” when they started playing Beyonce. Dude just held up his finger like “what a minute, I’m bout’ to show you the light.”
6) Saying shit like “Yall know! This be the hottest track in Jamaica right now!” before playing some wack pop-dancehall bullshit. This isn’t fucking Jamaica, or a frat party. This is Shanghai, don’t bring that fuss round here.
One strong point – They played “Whoa” by Black Rob. Track still bangs.
So next Thursday at C’s, Mau Mau and I plan to turn up the Robot/Baijiu Crunk and turn down the faux pas.
Still looking forward to the rest of the Jue Fest though…especially Demerit.
The hunt for Italo Disco leads me down strange trails. It’s crucial to pre-listen to tracks on YouTube because often:
1) Italo disco comes in big collections, via rapidshare, etc. as opposed to single tracks from blogs like this
2. These collections, 95% of the time, totally suck
3) Sometimes I find videos like this
Unlike lots of Italo tracks where it’s some gay Italian dude/thick-accented diva crooning in English, Baby’s Gang got a bunch of European kids to sing over synths and drum machines.
For those who don’t know, back in the Cold War, America was all up in space. Sendin’ people into space to “peep the scene,” build laser cannons to melt Russia with, and find better places to throw away garbage.
We spent over a billion on the Challenger space shuttle, and that shit blew up on live television. That was 1986, a crucial time in Italo Disco history. Before the mishap, Baby’s Gang released “Challenger,” and the video.
So much rain…
rain = DANGER.
not danger from floods, slippery floors, or cholera.
UMBRELLA DEATH!!!!!
It’s true. Many foreigners in Asia die every year from umbrella death, due to their comparatively elevated stature. The deadly prongs of the umbrella, which stick out like those plastic-sword sandwich toothpicks, often sink into an oblivious “old whitey’s eye,” then puncture the temporal lobe.
not to mention muddled motorcycle traffic. but i’d rather lose a toe to a scooter wheel than an eye, and my motor skills, to a hello kitty umbrella.
I like these girls. Some music journalists call their genre “shitgaze,” derived from shoegaze (think My Bloody Valentine mixed with punk). I don’t know about all that, but it’s nice.
Vivian Girls – All The Time
Vivian Girls – Never See Me Again
Vivian Girls – I Believe In Nothing
dude really wanted to show off his fireworks skills.
why don’t more people post these classics? instead people litter woeful remixes and music with no sense of history.
Charlie – Spacer Woman
My editor didn’t like the angle I took with this piece, so although it will appear in a much drier form in the next issue of City Weekend, here’s the original:
Dodging the Beast
A brief guide to eluding misfortune in the new year.
A demon lurks, waiting to pounce when the clock strikes midnight and linger for an entire year. However, armed with these techniques, one can avoid the niánshòu, or New Year’s bad luck monster. Those entering their b?nmìngnián, or calendar/animal year, should take special precaution, or else falling pianos, doomed relationships, and missed trains may blight their future.
1) Pray to the gods. Perhaps the simplest way of dodging setbacks this year, asking supernatural beings directly. Visit a place of worship like Jing An Temple and offer money or burn incense to the Buddhist gods.
2) Eat lucky foods. Coat the stomach lining with b?b?ofàn, or “eight treasures rice,” a glutinous cake of rice, red beans and other treasures. Local restaurants around town sell these, or one can learn ancient techniques from a cooking class at Chinese Cooking Workshop on Yu Yuan Lu? Those from Northern China consume more dumplings, but regardless of geography, “fish is the must have food” of the holiday says Cooking Workshop founder Aga Zhu, noting the Chinese character for fish, pronounced yú, and its phonetic identity to the character for abundance.
3) Play with fireworks. Monsters hate explosions and flashing lights, so use these weapons to frighten the niánshòu back into its time-hole. During research for this article, a group of gentlemen on the corner of YuYao Lu and Yanping Lu demonstrated how to set off artillery shells and cherry bombs safely, using a Double Happiness cigarette to light the wick. Many local stores sell these, just walk around a local area and ask for bàozhú (firecrackers) or y?nhu? (bigger, cooler fireworks), just don‘t use them in concert with báiji?, as ambulances don’t move so fast in Shanghai.
4) Wear Red. The New Year’s beast hates red, so don as much as possible at all times. “Some women literally wear red underwear every day if it’s their year” says Crystal Tao, founder of Scarlet’s, a lingerie shop on Jiaozhu Lu that sells red and other colored undergarments in the full size spectrum, as well as red necklaces and bracelets to provide extra protection.
5) Safety in numbers. During the holiday, Chinese people unite with family from near and far to eat gigantic meals, distribute envelopes of money (hóngb?o) to the youth, watch the CCTV New Year’s Eve Gala, and perhaps test their luck and wallets in a game of mahjong.
If executed correctly, these strategies should vanquish the evil spirits of bad luck. So gather with those dear and prepare for an epic battle between fortune and tragedy commencing on New Years Eve, January 25th.
I’ve almost completely lost faith in Shanghai’s allegedly homeless/poor begging characters. They approach us foreigners like zombies, patting at our windows, waving their paper cups while murmuring a vocabulary limited to “money,” “thank you,” and “buy flower, e.g. “buy money..flower flower, thank you thank you.” I’ve long followed the idea that beggars should do something for money, like breakdance, belt a song through a toothless grin, or simply scream intimidatingly like the ones in San Francisco. But these cats in Shanghai, they won’t even play the street Chinese instructor for a few coins. Their brains are mush. Two recent events made me more bitter and likely to tell these folks to roll over (and get fucked, implicitly) when they tug at my coat.
1) My friend manages a bar on Tongren Lu popular amongst wealthy expats who enjoy sports, and Chinese women who wish to elope/drain cash for overprint LV bags. Almost nightly, my friend sees a pristine black Range Rover pull up and drop off nine or ten beggars who emerge from the ride like a clown car at a circus.
2) Last night I ran into one beggar outside Da Papa Mario, with its always present elderly Italian owner who speaks either English nor Chinese, who insisted on feeling “hungry to death.” I told him I had no money to spare, but would gladly give him a large bag of upper mid-range Italian food, with two slices of pizza, gnocchi, and some garlic bread. He accepted, but when I walked by ten minutes later, he just stood begging in the same place, still holding the plastic take-out bag.
Last night outside Logo, another one of these types asked me for money, insisting on the craziness of my suggestion that she perhaps worked for a boss in the “black society” yet couldn’t account for who gave her the flowers she hawked.
On the music tip.
Former Portugeese colonies really know how to keep it hype. Although I’ve recently been heavy on the Baile Funk tip, I just discovered that Angola gets crunk with its own genre, Kuduro. I think I found this track on Mad Decent a while back.
DJ Patrick – Sem Maneiras
Today’s a research day. Research for meaningful journalism, not blogcore journalism. I’m writing a piece for a local magazine about how to celebrate Chinese New Year like a local. Which means today I’ll:
- Ride my bike around and try to find more fireworks
- Go to a coffee shop and wonder “where all da’ white girls at?”
- Learn to cook “eight treasures rice”
- Buy some red underwear. I’m an Ox/Cow – it’s my year according to the Chinese calendar, so everything should fall in place this year…release albums, world DJ tour, get published in the New Yorker, swim in the ocean and pass out on the beach
BUT ONLY IF I KEEP THE EVIL SPIRITS AWAY.
Hence the red underwear. Chinese believe that a person should wear crimson undergarments in their calendar year to block evil spirits from slipping into their peen/vag during the night.
Here’s a remix that will bridge the gangbanging and blogging scenes.
Mobb Deep – Shook (DJ Fashen Remix)
I feel mighty sunny when folks exclaim “no! enough is enough. you’re not inhaling my local customs into a globalized vaccum of chain stores and multinational companies. I’s finna keep doing things like we’s always done em!”
I can’t park my bike anywhere safe in this town. Everyone frowns on attaching locks to rails… I left my ride in Carrefour’s outdoor lot attached to a railing, and while I shopped someone unlocked it and set it next to the railing. Bastards. I don’t get it, twenty years ago literally everyone rode bikes.
.
Update: I left my decrepit old bike on the Fumin Lu three weeks ago and no one stole it. It’s just standing there like a foreclosed home, and sad like a lost child. I kicked it when I happened upon it at three a.m. the other night.
today i realized where all the beautiful shanghainese girls hang out all day – the mall. derrrrr. i went there for coffee and didn’t know what to do with myself. too bad shanghainese women all have a computer virus in their brain that makes them insssssaaaaane.
bought so many fireworks yesterday in the ghetto. a drunk old man led me across an eight-lane highway, stopping traffic with his bottle of huangjiu (distilled horse pee liquor) that he flashed like a police badge, into a garbage dump. in the favela, amongst some squatter houses, sat one shack selling nothing but Chinese New Year supplies, mostly of the unsafe/exploding kind.
love you fireworks.
and it’s China, so people don’t mind fireworks in the middle of the street anytime of day or night like they would in say, America. “Oh, this foreigner is becoming acquainted with our 5,000 year old culture.”
god damn english bookstores, with their $10 folding maps of Shanghai with “english” streetnames. at least i get to read HK’s finest newspaper, The South China Morning Post, for $3, making it the most expensive non-Sunday newspaper ever.
went out to a tepanyaki explosion last night with my friend’s parents from Chicago, who lauded the first Barrack Obeezie book (the second one = dictated/ghostwritten, allegedly). As his mother sunk deeper into a sake haze, she told me that i “talk like michael phelps” and asked when I broke my nose. i’ve never broken my nose.
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