"It would be great if they could have both ideals and edge," Lulu concurs.
"They should not be as heavy as those old fogies Black Panther and Tang Dynasty. Nowadays you don't see any angry young idealistic proletarians anymore. In a market economy, people want lighthearted entertainment." Beibei is clearly annoyed.
"What style of music do they plan to play?" I ask.
Beibei answers, "Pop, rap, hip-hop, rock, reggae, a bit of everything. A hodge-podge. I don't want us to be pure rock 'n' rollers, because the majority of the Chinese audience doesn't understand rock."
"Why don't you add a bit of revolutionary opera? It's got a Chinese flavor, as well as satirical overtones," I suggest.
"Yeah! Great idea! Why didn't I think of that? Niuniu, I think I really should hire you to do strategy for us full-time. People who come back from overseas really are different! Gosh, I can't afford you. The British pay you much more. Isn't it sad that the most talented people all work for Westerners!"
"Don't be so nationalistic. I think you should just make the Young Revolutionaries internationalists. Isn't everybody talking about globalization? Their ideal world should simply be a fusion world. Get someone to write that kind of song for them," I recommend.
"Right, that suits the Young Revolutionaries' positioning."
"But isn't their communist flavor a little too strong? In the future when they try to make it overseas, this might be a problem." Lulu holds different political views.
"We'll worry about that later. For the Young Revolutionaries to make it here in China first would be a good start. These days stars are on a merry-go-round. Almost every star's fame is ephemeral," Beibei educates us.
"What's their styling like?" Lulu, who mixes in fashion circles, asks.
"Dyed hair, pierced ears, baggy pants, Japanese samurai tattoos on their arms, and backwards baseball caps – typical Generation X – and Y – style."
I throw my comments out first. "It sounds too familiar – like a Chinese smorgasbord of every foreign band and style. Gives people the feeling that Chinese people can't do anything else but pirate. I think that to copy others is an expression of lack of self-confidence. They should be unique."
"Yes, I agree," Lulu cuts in. "Dressing up like that won't make you look fashionable. On the contrary, you're just following the herd. I think that to highlight the Young Revolutionaries, you should let them wear military hats and belts like the Red Guards. In this way, they have their own revolutionary character."
I add, "Like designer Vivienne Tam using the Chinese flag and Mao's portrait in her clothes designs – what does she call it? China chic?"
Beibei says, "Yeah, that old Cultural Revolution stuff is really popular these days. It's China 's own retro chic!"
No one seems to notice or care that there is nothing unique or rebellious at all about having a marketing agency create an image for the band. Just because Beibei's company has deemed the Young Revolutionaries "unique" and "rebellious" does not actually make it so. However, that is the nature of the industry under the new market economy. To survive, you must please the crowds, even if that means selling out.
BAOTANG: To make soup.
CEHUA: To plan, promote, position, and publicize. One of those flashy new words that has entered the Chinese vocabulary along with the opening up of the market economy.
21 Matters of Size
My friend, Diana, is half English and half Norwegian. When she was sixteen, she saw the movie The Lover, about French author Marguerite Duras's affair with her Chinese lover in Indochina. Diana fell in love with the Hong Kong actor Tony Leung, who plays the gentle and passionate lover in the film.
Diana started to learn Chinese and fantasized about dating a Chinese man someday: a Chinese man with hairless, silky skin and a tight butt, who looks younger than his age, is faithful, gentle, and wealthy like Duras's lover. It would be a great way for her to practice her Chinese – and he would, hopefully, be a good cook or the son of a good Chinese cook. Diana loves Chinese food.
After graduating from college, Diana's Chinese dream is realized. She was sent to work in a nonprofit organization's Beijing office. After moving to Beijing, Diana often saw many Western men dating Chinese women, but very few Western women with Chinese men. Most of her girlfriends are not attracted to Asian men. Sure, she saw those Chinese punk artists hanging out at places like Moon House in Haidian with their Western wives. But most of the Western wives are unattractive from a Westerner's perspective. And those sorts of relationships seem to her a bit mutually masturbatory. The Western girl feels cool because she is married to a "dissident artist," and the Chinese dissident artist guy feels proud that he is good enough to score a Western girl – and he can get a visa!
Diana is determined to break the stereotype and find a Chinese man. To her disappointment, it is not such an easy task. At nearly six feet tall, she is taller than most men and the rare ones who are taller are often male chauvinists. Of course, many of those Chinese punk rockers and avant-garde painters chase after her, but they are not really her type. Diana tells me that she thinks they are too westernized. She prefers conservative family men.
One evening, in a bar called Schiller's, she meets Mr. Lee, who is on a business trip to Beijing. Mr. Lee is a venture capitalist in Hong Kong, more gorgeous and gentler than Tony Leung. He is half Chinese, half American, and speaks both Chinese and English perfectly. Other than his unusual height and high Western nose, he looks like a pure-blooded Chinese man with black hair, Asian eyes, and fair silky skin.
Mr. Lee tells Diana that he is not attracted to Asian women because he prefers "big breasts, blond hair, and intelligent conversation," although he doesn't specify in what order. Diana thinks she can provide him with all three. He says, "Too many Asian women are flat-chested, materialist airheads." Hanging out with other foreigners in Beijing, Diana has met so many Asian fetishists – Western men who have caught "yellow fever" – that Mr. Lee's comments make him stand out from the crowd.
Mr. Lee flies from Hong Kong to Beijing to meet with Diana every weekend. Every time, he brings her nice gifts, perfume, jewelry. They always have pleasant conversations and candlelit dinners, but he never kisses or touches her. Diana calls afterward and tells me, "Wow, Chinese men are so much more conservative than Western men. He'll make a good husband."
Four months have passed and Mr. Lee always treats Diana with respect. She decides to take the initiative.
One Saturday night after Mr. Lee takes Diana to the St. Regis Hotel for dinner, Diana invites Mr. Lee to stay overnight at her apartment in Maizidian. Mr. Lee doesn't refuse.
In Diana's apartment, Mr. Lee asks Diana politely, "Can I make love to you?"
"Yes," Diana agrees eagerly. She has been waiting so long for this night!
"Do you have a condom?"
"Yes. I do." Diana planned ahead, and earlier that day bought a box of condoms at a nearby store.
Their moment of passion is building up when the unexpected happens. The condom doesn't fit: it's too small. "Gosh, this part of my body is American, not Chinese," Mr. Lee chuckles. "The Chinese have always believed that the size of a man's nose reflects the size of his pecker. With my Western nose, it seems to make sense."
"Gee, if the size doesn't fit, I wonder what other foreign expatriates use in Beijing. Do they need to carry boxes of condoms from home every time?" Diana is frustrated. "Can we do it without a condom?" she asks.
"No, we can't. My wife says I have to wear condoms whenever I'm with other women."
"What?! You're married?" Diana is so stunned that it takes a minute for the anger to set in.