Meet Andrew Moon, a participant of a growing trend in mainland China’s increasingly sophisticated independent music community — that of the curious outsider whose interest in the country’s creative culture was piqued by pals within and has since gone on to develop deep ties to domestic musicians during trips back and forth from New Zealand.

Moon, a seasoned musician who specializes in a genre of experimental music known as drone (it sounds exactly what you might suspect — a singular note or chord that is continuously sounded throughout most of a composition, a throwback to how medieval monks probably spent their frosty, dewdropped mornings), first performed within the country last year at a series of low-profile gigs in our sordid rival from the south, the City That Shall Not Be Named.

Since then, he’s has gone on to fine-tune his craft with a domestic musician named Lenz, the feral frontwoman of virulent rock outfit Goushen.

Working remotely under the name RST + Lenz, a slightly-altered brand that Moon has recorded under previously (including a full-length release on noise elder Thurston Moore’s Ecstatic Peace Records), the two have spent the past year sculpting a series of transnational compositions — Moon sends over the guitar tracks from Auckland, Lenz responds with her vocals — and will publicly debut the project in Beijing tomorrow at the bohemian-flavored music venue XP.

While Moon likens ambient and drone music to the humming of modern-day neon signs, the material with Lenz differs wildly in that its contemplative waves of textured guitars tempered by Lenz’s grounded spoken word vocals share more in common with post-rock than drone, an often inaccessible genre for the unfamiliar. The RST + Lenz compositions are instantly accessible and concertgoers will surely find that songs like “Love” conjure up cinematic-level landscape shots rather than that neon-red buzzing Maotai billboard flickering at the end of your street.

Considering the nature of the material and the intimate format of the venue, tomorrow’s gig just might be this year’s crown jewel for the city’s fans of experimental music. The fact that it was coordinated by Sick Car Sick, the apparently-dyslexic side project of a famous group of upstanding young whippersnappers who are renowned for their vomit-flared brand of rock music both in and outside of China, should make this a ringing endorsement for the undecided.

We touched base with the twosome in this debut edition of a new midweek column designed to shed a tractor beam on some of the dimmer corridors of the country’s creative community.

Tell us about your music.

The more structured music Lenz and I are doing tries to incorporate those pure “sound” elements into a song-based context and marry that with Lenz’s voice, which is really the focal point. So what you get is a sort of balance between the sounddrift hanging between notes, the guitar itself and of course THAT voice. There are influences that led me to this over the years but anything where there’s space in the music and slow tempos usually gets me going. I hear a lot about the Beijing scene being a breeding ground for experimentation and it sounds like the perfect place for Lenz and I to do our thing.

How did the China connection come about?

I’ve been coming to China for quite a while now for business. A friend in Shanghai introduced Lenz and I back when Lenz’s former band, Androsace, were active. I got involved in mixing the Androsace record which we did remotely. From there, Lenz and I began discussing working on music together.

You’ve been in the country for several weeks now…

The Shanghai shows were excellent; the bands were brilliant and a load of lovely people came out. The music scene here is thriving with all sorts of incredible stuff going on: amazing bands and people passionate about music and supportive of each other. The Sunday shows running out of [Shanghai live music venue] 696 are a good example: the lineup is always varied, so there’s different audiences coming together and connections made across scenes. What stands out is how important it is to everyone that the scene builds and develops — there’s a real emphasis on creating a foundation from which bands can grow and it’s been cool to see that.

What were your expectations prior to your arrival?

I’ve been coming here for a while now, but only more recently had the opportunity to be involved with local music. I had no idea what to expect of the music scene: I just got lucky to make a connection with people here and find out firsthand.

What was your entry point into getting involved with local music?

Mixing Lenz’s former band Androsace. While my first exposure to the underground was through an expat friend sending all sorts of douban links to bands here, the specific turning point was when I was sent the Androsace recordings, there was something raw and passionate about those amazing vocals.

I came to China shortly after and met Lenz in person for the first time. I was working on this new recording and after meeting we decided to work together. So that recording changed quite a bit and it became very much a collaboration.

What’s the plan for your Beijing downtime?

Unfortunately, I only have one night in Beijing and that’s going to involve local food, awesome local music and whatever sightseeing we can do in an evening. Hopefully, we’ll be able to hook up with the Beijing band 16 Minutes —we played with them several weeks ago and they totally blew us all away.

Sounds like the perfect day.

Thanks to everyone who’s helped organise the shows and been so welcoming and supportive: Shanghai is starting to feel like a second home. I’ve met some really lovely people so far and seen some incredible music. When it comes to RST, we’re going to focus on playing some nice shows and fine-tune what we’re doing. We don’t get together often and we’ve actually only ever had two rehearsals, so we’re making the most of being together face to face. Then it’ll be back to working remotely until the next time. And with any luck, the record should be done by then!

RST + Lenz will perform in Beijing on Friday, Septempber 13 (that’s tomorrow!) at XP: 9:30 pm, 40 RMB. Support comes from Sick Car Sick and Cloud Choir.

As Shanghai continued to broil in a prolonged heatwave this week, the local boundary-pushing rock duo Pairs offered some relief on Monday with the release of their sixth full-length studio effort, Your Feet Touch Ground, A Carousel, a record that they made available to download for free through their website.

The prolific pair’s first electronic album is the latest in a long line of experimentation for the restless lo-fi rock outfit. It follows last November’s If This Cockroach Doesn’t Die, I Will, a sprawling monster of a concept record that Sean Hocking, head of the band’s Hong Kong-based label Metal Postcard Records, hailed as one that will eventually come to embody the experience of expat existence across Asian megacities. Despite being ten months old, it continues to rack up accolades from a number of influential Western critics and gain new audiences.

Shortly afterwards, the band quietly released the piano-and-vocals-only album Eltham Join, a subdued effort that was quickly followed by a series of solo releases and collaborative efforts from drummer, vocalist and chief songwriter Xiao Zhong throughout the spring and summer.

The band’s latest spontaneous gift to the world, an independently-released effort that was written, recorded and mixed by the duo in a Shanghai living room, continues to drift further from their original explosive guitar-drums-vocal outbursts and instead relies heavily on laptops, programmed drums, acoustic guitars, one “smashed-up iTouch” and a practice space amplier, said the band in a press release.

Premiered last Thursday on VICE China, the effort has already elicited strong reviews from domestic critics: “Whether you like it or not, we should remember that Pairs are a band that embody an extreme punk spirit,” wrote VICE reviewer Wang Ge, who admitted that he was torn about whether or not he liked the record. “But the fact that they promote themselves and seize every platform so that more people hear their own things, as well as their brave willingness to change themselves, make them a hundred times stronger than so many other bands out there.”

We agree. While the record’s swirling atmospherics, adrift vocals and unconventional song structures may put off even the band’s most ardent fans, the six-song effort acts as another direct portal into one of the expat community’s most fascinating creative minds, that of Xiao Zhong, the 27-year-old Melbourne native who dove into Shanghai’s creative community in 2010 like the Tazmanian Devil, inciting a maelstrom that has only intensified in the nearly four years since, leaving just even the most plugged-in observers breathless and unable to fully absorb the band’s frenzied activity.

From DJ gigs to the band’s wild performances and the daily blog posts of gossipy insidery tidbits that participants of the country’s independent music biz devour like hunks of raw meat, Xiao Zhong’s energy is seemingly limitless yet also streaked with the undercurrents of fatalism that runs all aspects of life here in the Middle Kingdom, that the party can’t possibly last forever and we’re all living on borrowed time.

In a music scene where so much emphasis is placed on public image, bandwagon-jumping and a near-transparent desire for bands to hit rockstar paydirt without putting in the necessary amount of shit-eating, Pairs’ utter lack of ego, self-deprecation and willingness to throw caution to the wind to just do what feels right makes them one of mainland China’s most genuine and important bands.

And unlike other rock bands within the country, what makes the Pairs Experience™ so special is the relationship that the public has with the band and their music.

Having Pairs in your life isn’t limited to simply watching them perform live — although they do that, too, having recently wrapped up a Southeast Asian tour alongside playing regular gigs at various Shanghai live music venues (they’re also set to tour Korea this October) — but is rather a constantly whirling kaleidoscope of interaction with the duo that includes blog updates, social media blasts, secret recording sessions, shout-out to pals in their songs, collaborations with fellow creatives and unscheduled 6:30am blitzkrieg interviews for Slink Rat, the band’s aforementioned blog.

While it’s often difficult to separate the band Pairs from Xiao Zhong himself — F, the band’s guitarist, seldom gives interviews and is content to cede the spotlight to her bandmate — we picked his brain to learn more about the new record, the loneliness of expat existence and his secrets to time management.

On making an electronic record

We like taking risks and trying new things because you can’t keep sucking the same old dick time and time again. Doing something creative will always trump doing sweet fuck-all. It also keeps us off the streets and keeps us interested. We’re going to die someday — not just as a band, but as people, so we may as well do as much as we can before we get thrown in the ground. Some people are going to absolutely hate this record, some people are going to like it; some people will appreciate the idea but hate the execution; some people are going to drunkenly approach us and “tell it like it is.” The vast majority will not care at all and it doesn’t really matter. We dug making it and we’re happy with it. What you do with it now is totally up to you.

On the new single “Vatican Colours”

Lyrically, it’s just one line repeated over and over: “You’ve been gone / For such a long time / How do you know we’re going to be here when you get back?” It’s pretty simple and I’m sure a common thought for most people living abroad or who move around a lot and are tired of saying goodbye to people and not really sure where they belong.

On the often lonely existence of being an expat

This record focuses a lot on that. I’m the opposite: I don’t have a lonely existence at all — I have too many friends all over the place that I would love to be with. But how can I be with my friends in China and with my friends in New Zealand and Australia and the United Kingdom at the same time? It’s impossible, so eventually, I have to chose a place to settle down.

On time management

My advice is simple: Don’t just watch movies on long flights. Work in airports and while waiting for flights. Don’t play video games. Get a good night’s sleep and allocate downtime. For example, I’ll relax after 8 pm or I won’t do anything on Sunday except hang out with the wife. And never put something off you can do straight away and never look at an email and say, “I’ll reply later.” Those are my tricks.

On the band’s prolific output and high profile

I really, really don’t think we’re that high profile. On the grand scale of things, fuck-all people know about us. While people seem to get confused and maybe even a bit tired of us releasing shit and doing stuff, I see us as a band with a deadline or an expiration date: One day, I will move away from China. It’d be different if F and I were both Shanghai natives, then we could go for longer — but if you see the finish line ahead, you’re going to push yourself.

On how travel influences the creative process

It makes it better. There’s way more deadtime just sitting in terminals and you can get a whole heap done on 11-hour flights. Plus, you see a lot of people in different states of mind and it gives you time to think or for inspiration to strike. I’ve written a lot of lyrics on flights and in the shower: they seem to be the two places where ideas are born. Take from that what you will.

On his “heart on the sleeve” lyrical style

I feel that it’s a bit odd watching bands here because I know a lot of the musicians: I know enough about them — where they work, who they date and the basic kind of shit they like — and yet when they play their songs, I can’t see their personality at all. It’s like the songs have little relevance to their life and I find that odd. While I can’t help but wear my heart on my sleeve if I’m writing, some people here seem to be able to bypass their experiences for some song that holds no real importance or connection to anyone.

On his evolution as a lyricist

I’ve gotten a bit better at stretching out one idea or observation over the space of a couple of verses. I used to write long-winded emails home to everyone when I first got here just to let people know what I was up to, but I no longer do that — I now put my observations and experiences into song. While this latest release is probably a little step back as I didn’t want the lyrics heard that clearly, I really dig the lyrics to “38,000 Feet in the Bathroom Line.” But the lyrics to the new Pairs songs are actually pretty good and something that I can stand behind. It has been a prick remembering all the lines, but once they’re in your head, it’s easy enough. But yeah, I’m focusing way more on the lyrics and pushing an idea. It’s probably the one compliment F has given me: “Your lyrics are getting better,” she said. She’s usually not one for praising me.

On the future

I’ve told people I’m toying with the idea of heading home and quite a few people have said, “Oh man, you’re going to be so bored there and it’s going to drive you crazy!” While I see where they’re coming from, that’s only until I open a Melbourne gig guide and see all the amazing shows from international and local bands alongside the festivals, exhibitions and opportunities there. However, I know when I move back, I’m going to miss a lot about living in China. It’s a very common thought, nothing new there, but as my time gets closer to actually fucking off, I’m just trying to figure out how I feel about it. I think I’m ready to get into a more relaxing lifestyle where work isn’t so hectic and people are more laid back. Guess it comes with old age and shit, plus I have already lined up some shit to do when I get back, like a podcast with the Hobbs Goblin, and I’m sure I’ll keep playing music.

Your Feet Touch Ground, A Carousel is available to download for free on Pairs’ bandcamp page. They’re also on Weibo, Douban, Facebook and Tumblr. While the band currently has no scheduled performances in Beijing, Hong Kong readers can look forward to catching them at Saffron on the Peak on September 14 and 15. Details here. Shanghai readers can see Xiao Zhong perform tonight at Yuyintang with his shoegaze duo Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes in support of Melbourne-based singer-songwriter Sophie Koh: 9 pm, 60 RMB.

Aspiring American brodude outfit Day Above Ground finally got their big break on Thursday morning after cultural provocateur Angry Asian Man, comedian David So and several other influential media personalities shaped what was initially a locus of outrage in the Asian American community on Tuesday afternoon into a viral campaign and international news story.

Following two days of criticism on blogs, national news outlets and social media (and even a change.org petition) for the video that set the landspeed record for crude sexual and racial references toward people of Asian descent, the Los Angeles-based outfit held their ground and did nothing to address their critics aside from offering a slightly less offensive video description, which in turn generated even more outrage for their failure to even make an attempt at being contrite.

As the story went viral late Wednesday and throughout Thursday, the administrator of the band’s Facebook page was active in adjusting photos and editing avatars (but not removing “Asian Girlz”-related content, including promotional materials and shots of the band with Levy Tran, the Vietnamese-American model who has since distanced herself from the project), as if they were sprucing the place up for an inevitable visit from the major labels offering them a record deal.

It wasn’t until the House of Blues announced on Thursday afternoon that the West Hollywood venue was dropping them from a scheduled performance and video screening on August 10 that the band attempted to paint the trainwreck off as misinterpreted satire with a second revision on YouTube.

The video, now with nearly 900,000 views and 13,o00 comments, was initially posted with little fanfare last Saturday.

“This video is intended to be a satirical, provocative, absurd, & even silly work of art,” the band said on Friday morning. “The lyrics, story, and visuals are so completely over-the-top and ridiculous that we thought it’d be impossible to miss the point.”

The defiant statement sarcastically thanked Angry Asian Man for bringing it to the public’s attention and announced that the video will remain public for the next 48 hours so those who haven’t seen it yet can get their yearly fix of stupidity in one potent dose.

And taking a page from the Official Playbook of Racial Insensitivity that dictates how the victims of racism should feel after being assaulted, the band urged those who were offended to “just step back, take a breath and relax.”

While we’re used to batting away the justifications sputtered by the blithe defenders of casual racism every time something like this happens — classic arguments include the “I Am This Race and I’m Not Offended” argument, the “I Have Friends of This Race, So I Cannot Be Racist” argument, the “It Was Only a Joke, So Relax” argument, the “Stereotypes Are Kinda True, So What’s the Big Deal?” argument, the “People of This Race Say This Stuff to To Each Other All the Time, So Why Can’t We?” argument, and the “This Other Person Has Also Done This Racist Thing and People Aren’t Outraged About That” argument — the band took the unusual step of cherry-picking some of these logical contortions made by several knuckle-dragging YouTubers and including them in the aforementioned statement, which is something we’ve never seen before and is a great example of Hanlan’s Razor:

“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”

Shortly after the band told TMZ on Friday evening that they were yanking the video on Saturday after receiving threats, a commenter named Bone Shaker appeared on YouTube and offered a plausible alternative (and completely unverified) explanation that appears to mesh with the band’s unapologetic statement and previous behavior:

“The real reason why the band is taking this video down is because they never got signed release forms from the locations they filmed at,” wrote Bone Shaker from a recently registered account with no previous activity. “It wouldn’t have been a problem if no one saw this video, as they probably assumed would happen. But since this blew up, all these locations are now contacting the band and telling them to take those scenes out cause they don’t want their business to be associated with this crap. So don’t be fooled by their ‘noble’ gesture of pulling the video from YouTube.”

Asian American Reactions

Asian American media appeared to be divided on how to address the issue as the story became unavoidable. Some outlets, namely the popular lifestyle magazine Hyphen, openly questioned how to discuss the video without publicizing the band’s toxic message (taking a cue from community activists Jeff Yang and Bao Phi, they opted to post a list of 47 Asian-Pacific American female musicians entitled “Feed the People, Not the Trolls”) while others opted to use the flap to directly dive into a discussion when it comes to the prejudice directed toward people of Asian descent in American society.

“Day Above Ground draws upon a centuries-long white European and American colonial obsession and misrepresentation of Asiatan sexuality, from Marco Polo to Miss Saigon, Full Metal Jacket to the Hangover Part 2,” said Alison Park Roh, a professor of Asian American studies at Hunter College, in a statement that was published on the race-themed pop culture blog Racialicious on Friday.

“Not only are they misrepresenting us in a viral fashion, they are directly contributing to a pervasive history of white supremacist male violence against Asian women. That violence is rooted in the American government going to Asia to extract resources and cheap labor and American men going to Asia to restore their sense of a ‘lost’ masculinity — both at the expense of millions of peoples’ humanity, lives and livelihood, and a legacy that Asian American women have to live with to this day.”

While Asian Americans appear unified in their disgust, some commenters on social media disagreed with the premise of using the video as a launchpad for a soul-searching national discussion.

“This is a faulty way of opening dialogue because the content has propagated so much hype that the only responses are irrational and trite ones coming from outspoken (but not eloquent or critical) participants,” wrote a commenter on the social news website reddit on Friday afternoon in a thread about America’s double standard when it comes to the notion that it’s okay to mock and belittle Asians but not others.

“I think a more constructive approach is to analyze the song as one of a series of examples marking a definitive change in internet culture and social trends,” he continued. “The band is not special for arranging casual racism and sexism in song form, but the work follows a pattern of making generalizing statements under the excuse of satire or proclaiming identity.”

“It’s acceptable to make fun of Asians because nobody is scared of us,” said another. “We are not intimidating or threatening in any way. And we haven’t been wronged by white America like blacks have been wronged, so there’s no reason to tippy toe around us. Those are some common sentiments about this issue, not necessarily mine.”

Angry Asian Man, which ignited the firestorm, hasn’t followed up with a blog post on “Asian Girlz” since its original post on Tuesday afternoon. The blog has, however, written about stuff that’s more infinitely more deserving of your attention, like Take Your Shot, a contest for aspiring Asian filmmakers, and the music video for Kesna, a collaboration between vocalist Esna and hip hop MC and producer Kero One.

We reached out to Day Above Ground singer Joe Anselm on Friday afternoon — the guy with the frosted tips who we referred to as a “dead-eyed sociopath” in our original post — to ask him what everyone is dying to know: “What? Why? How? Gah!”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Anselm ignored all of our questions — namely “What the hell were you thinking?” — and simply said, “It’s not racist” and, “It is a work of art that, if you are an artist, you stand behind.”

We will undoubtedly find more to write about this trainwreck of supernova proportions as the saga continues. Stay tuned.

Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola.

UPDATE, 8/5, 2:37 am: Despite saying they’re removing the video and duping media into writing headlines that imply the video has already been removed, Asian Girlz remains readily viewable on YouTube, 1.3 million hits and counting (4,257 likes, 29,516 dislikes).

UPDATE, 8/5, 11:33 pm: The video is gone

UPDATE, 8/6, 1:31 pm: One final update. From band member Joe Anselmi:

I just wanted to clarify some things about the inspiration for our new song/video “American Dream” & the immediate action we took to get it out to the people, was to basically dispel the myth that we are racists, sexists, or just bad people. We are a rock band that made a raunchy, satirical song. That is all. And we want to continue down the road making music we like to make, no matter what comes out. We are also embarking on a 10 week promotional campaign for “American Dream” to allow the people to make up there mind on how they want to see Day Above Ground.

How many deep-rooted Asian stereotypes can you cram into a five-minute music video? Dozens if you’re the American boy band Day Above Ground, the Los Angelenos who galvanized the Asian American community on Tuesday afternoon after blogger and cultural critic Angry Asian Man blasted the video for their song “Asian Girlz” in a scathing post.

While we’d love to offer a frame-by-frame analysis of everything questionable about the most racist music video we’ve ever seen, doing so would give us ebola. Our shortlist, however, includes:

√ those stereotypical Asian-style singsong chimes;

√ the Chinatown-style font;

√ the tacky anime-style animations;

√ the sexy office worker trope;

√ the notion of Asian people as mysterious with magical powers;

√ the conflation of all Asian countries and cultures;

√ the shout outs to Los Angeles County communities with high Asian populations by white people and confused-looking Asian Americans wearing the band’s T-shirt;

√ the list of words and phrases (“Toyota! Sailor Moon! Fried Lice! Tibet!”) traded back and forth between a dead-eyed sociopath with frosted tips and his heavily-tattooed turdbro;

√ Fa ra ra ra ra ra ra ra ra ra ra

and

√ the steady stream of racist lyrics that sound like something your grandpap may have muttered in a fugue state during the Korean War, like “I love your sticky rice/Buttfucking all night/Korean barbecue/Bitch I love you” and “I love your creamy yellow thighs/Ooh your slanted eyes/It’s the Year of the Dragon/Ninja pussy I’m stabbin’.”

Oh dear.

The outrage is paired with a sense of disbelief that not a single person in the band’s entourage, recording studio, or film production crew — or even the outfit’s bassist, Marcello Lalopua, the guy with the permaderp face who the band used as a shield in their now-removed video description that said there’s no way they could be racist because he’s Indonesian — posited that overt racism doesn’t fly in racially-charged America and a video like this is a surefire way to torpedo a fledgling career in the entertainment biz.

As expected, the response from the Asian American community was swift and uniform in its condemnation, much of which was directed at Levy Tran, the Vietnamese-American pin-up girl who appeared in the video as the shrunken fivesome’s scantily-clad puppetmaster, stripping in front of the caged band before pleasuring herself with them in the bathtub.

“She’s a misguided individual with no respect for the suffering that her grandparents and countrymen experienced at the hands of American soldiers less than half a century ago,” wrote one commenter on the band’s Facebook page. “Your cheesy fliers confirm your lack of taste, skill and artistic vision. I hope you guys spend the rest of your lives serving coffee to the very Asians that you’ve disrespected.”

Another:

“The reason why lyrics and music like this isn’t good and is considered racist is because some ignorant 14-year-old asshole could listen to this song and start using it as a way to degrade Asian women. That bully at school who loves to pick on Asian girls will start spewing out words like ‘get dat ninja pussy over here’ or say she only has money because her mom does his mom’s nails.”

Another:

“I understand you need to make a living, but have some fucking standards. As a Vietnamese-American female, you and your Tila Tequila sisters are making us look like gutter trash.”

Another:

“Never have I ever seen this many racist references in so little time, and that includes neo-Confederate anti-black songs. I hope this band learns the lesson that making this stupid of a mistake can kill whatever chance they have of making it.”

Another:

“While I’m disappointed in how [Levy Tran] is reinforcing racist stereotypes, I can also sympathize with the possibility that she wasn’t aware of these stereotypes and actually grew up playing into them to gain popularity and make friends as a way of raising her social status.”

Another:

“Remember that Asian girl in the political ad that featured Asians of indeterminate ethnicity in rice paddies talking in broken English? Yeah, I wonder that every time. I’ve noticed Asians especially are more likely to take roles that make fun of their race or in which their race is a punchline. I attribute that to Western media’s dislike of Asians in media; how many successful Asian actors have YOU seen in Hollywood films? There’s like less than five well-known Asian actors and they’re always in kung-fu/martial arts movies, nothing else.”

Another:

“I really really hope you get run over by an 18 wheeler.”

While it’s easy to write this video off as a PR stunt to generate viral interest for a mediocre band in a highly competitive industry — or even a sick joke, which is what LA Weekly’s Dennis Romero would like to believe — the unsigned outfit’s digital trail, juvenile antics (the highlight of their summer was apparently throwing fortune cookies at concertgoers) and response to the criticism doesn’t appear to indicate a very high level of cognitive functioning.

Sometimes a spade is just a spade and “Asian Girlz” appears to be a textbook example of what happens when five uneducated and ignorant brosephs churn out what they genuinely think is a fun and cute summer jam. The result, however, is an unfortunate reminder of the blind spots that continue to exist when it comes to the perception that it’s okay to attack certain ethnic groups in the country but not others.

Shortly after Angry Asian Man drew attention to the video on Tuesday afternoon (it was actually premiered, and evidently ignored, last week at an LA venue), the band pulled the video from Facebook, reposted the video on YouTube with a revised description and nuked all user comments from orbit:

“We appreciate all the criticism and support,” read the statement. “Our song ‘Asian Girlz’ was not written with any malicious, hateful, or hurtful intent. We know it is racy and does push the boundaries further than other songs out there. Understand that we do not promote or support racism or violence. We love everyone no matter what race, religion, or sexual orientation. Please respect our decision to delete any violent, insensitive, or hurtful comment and also one that supports racism. We hope that we can continue with our lives with much love and peace.”

Days Above Ground singer Joe Anselm told Beijing Cream in an email on Wednesday morning that the band “doesn’t really have an official statement” and “we stand behind our art.”

After being bombed with negative feedback on her social media portals, Tran shuttered her Instagram account on Wednesday afternoon and issued a statement on Twitter immediately afterwards:

“I sincerely apologize to all who feels that I set Asian women back 50 yrs,” she wrote. “I know I lost respect from a lot of ppl. It wasn’t my intention. It was meant to be light hearted and fun. Satirical. They are sweet boys and not at all racist. That is all I will say. I’m sorry once again.”

As the video continues to rack up negative press and dislikes on YouTube at a steady clip (it’s currently at 82,000 views with a 15-to-1 dislike-to-like ratio), Team Oblivious is set to move forward with a gig on Saturday, August 10 at the House of Blues on Sunset Boulevard, a bill that will see the video beamed on a giant outdoor projection screen to a city with the highest concentration of Asian Americans in the country.

Movements are underway on social media to urge the House of Blues to drop the band from their lineup and cancel the screening.

We’ll have more on this perfect storm of racism, ineptitude and outrage if anything else happens.

Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola.

UPDATE, 8/2, 11 am: House of Blues announced Thursday afternoon that they have yanked Day Above Ground from the lineup for the gig on August 10. Despite the story going national on Thursday, the band remains mum and haven’t yet issued an official response.

UPDATE, 8/3, 11:48 am: The band tells Pete Demola, “It’s not racist… it is a work of art that, if you are an artist, you stand behind.”

Ai Weiwei has managed to upset and alienate many groups during his reign as China’s national gadfly, particularly within the past five years, a period in which the 55-year-old’s public profile has swelled to supernova proportions. A respondent brought up the “Ai Weiwei Effect” in last month’s roundup of critical reactions to Ai Weiwei and Zuoxiao Zuzhou’s song “Dumbass,” and on the eve of the release of The Divine Comedy – the six-song album on which Dumbass appears — it’s worth asking again: how do we perform aesthetic analysis of the outspoken artist-cum-activist’s work when our perceptions are so colored by sentiment?

Saint Ai, Patron Saint of the Persecuted

Ai’s celebrity status is self-perpetuating and now beyond his control. Short of sealing himself off and banishing all visitors, journalists, and collaborators from his studio while refusing to create and promote — creating and promoting generally being what creative people do — I assume he can’t control who writes about him, who gives him public shout-outs, and how his art will be interpreted by a Western public that still views China, at best, as a cypher, and at worst as a gray-colored dystopia rife with baby-aborting drones and entire cities of enslaved assembly-line workers.

The accusations of shameless headline-seeking behavior will always be there, even as Ai just does what he’s always done. This is, after all, the guy who co-organized an avant-garde exhibition, Fuck Off, that he packed with transgressive content from dozens of domestic artists, including a piece by Zhu Yu called “Eating People,” a depiction of simulated cannibalism that continues to surface online a decade later as anti-Chinese propaganda, and another earlier piece featuring Ai himself famously hurling an ancient vase to the ground as a call to civic action.

We’re talking about the guy who worked with a Swiss design firm in creating the modern-day symbol of an ascendant China, the Bird’s Nest, only to later dismiss the Olympics entirely as a “fake smile” to the world, and the guy who made it his mission to hold authorities responsible for the shoddy construction that led to 5,200 dead schoolchildren after the 2008 Sichuan earthquake. He had his first major retrospective in North America, According to What?, at the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington DC last fall — it’s currently parked in Indianapolis — which has generated extra press because Chinese authorities have forbidden him to attend.

Point is: Ai has always been controversial. His visibility, our perceptions of celebrity, a buffoonish party-state, and the now-ubiquitous presence of social media is the problem — not the man, and certainly not how he chooses to express himself.

A large part of his visibility, ironically, may be due to the authorities’ revocation of his passport, a counterproductive measure that has forced the artist to engage the public online through social media and microblogging platforms that — as Tao noted last month after an impromptu haircut became a public event that even the venerable James Fallows couldn’t resist gushing about — reinforce the cult and farce of celebrity and lend newsworthy status to even the most mundane activities.

Perhaps if the country’s knuckle-dragging simpletons didn’t engage in their perennial goon-squad tactics — shuttering Ai’s blog, harassing and arresting his assistants, administering cerebral hemorrhage, tearing down his Shanghai studio, among other heavy-handed measures — then he wouldn’t have settled so comfortably into his role as Saint Ai, the Romantic Dissident. He wouldn’t be the guy you reflexively sneer at whenever he presents another creative endeavor.

China has a way of alienating everyone, including itself.

Saint Ai, Patron Saint of Stinging Rebuke

Constant media presence comes with blowback. Domestic critics, artists, writers, and others in the country’s creative community often decry the Beijing-born son of a persecuted poet for his vacuum-like effect when it comes to representing the mainland Chinese art scene to the rest of the world; for artificially driving up prices, denying others their moment in the sun, and unnecessarily baiting the authorities, which some say leads to increased scrutiny on a community that is already viewed with suspicion.

The near-consensus among those in China’s expatriate community — or at least the slice that’s plugged into English-language media — is that Ai is a hack who relishes in concocting headline-grabbing PR stunts with questionable artistic merit: whether it’s viral video spoofs, magazine covers, or wry photographs, Ai can do no right. Even the sheer mention of his name by visiting public figures results in withering public scorn.

These people, who endlessly criticize without creating anything of value themselves, also lambaste him for his role as the international media’s go-to guy for quotes on Chinese current events, a gilded position that many argue oversimplifies the complex problems the country faces and feeds lazy Western journalists a distorted narrative of modern China.

And the authorities, lest we forget, remain uncomfortable with Ai’s post-Olympic role as an international celebrity activist calling for the state to rectify its human rights abuses. They continue to assail him with a gauntlet of questionable legal challenges, from accusations of economic malfeasance to crimes against morality, and hold his passport. Ai’s not technically under house arrest, but usually he’s not given much reason to leave his Caochangdi compound.

Saint Ai, the Musician

Zuoxiao Zuzhou has impeccable credentials in the country’s music scene — he’s a well-respected founding father who helped popularize avant-garde rock music in the early-1990s with his band No — so it’s somewhat a musical coup for Ai’s team that Zuoxiao would agree to produce and write the music for The Divine Comedy.

But after listening to the record several times, I still wonder what Ai’s and Zuoxiao’s goals were. If it’s just two friends working together to explore a new creative medium, then we have a success. As a platform for catharsis, working through grueling psychological issues from detention, it’s pretty good. And as a vessel from which to reach a new audience — say, Zuoxiao fans who don’t care about politics — it also works, and I hope that some of Ai’s starpower will rub off on the country’s rock scene and lead to positive developments for everyone involved.

But if Ai intended The Divine Comedy to be a groundbreaking musical statement that rivals what the country’s all-star musical talent has been doing for the past decade, then… maybe not. Domestic acts like Duck Fight Goose, Hedgehog, Carsick Cars, and PK-14 — four rock bands I consider to be the country’s most durable and influential — have him easily beat.

And guess what? That’s okay. I don’t think this record is an attempt to steer national discussion. “Each song is a different take of Ai’s newfound channel for expression through music,” the press release for The Divine Comedy helpfully states, before explaining that the album’s songs fall into three categories: commentaries on current events, documentations of real dialogues, and personal reflections. Aside from a modest two-sentence bio (“Ai Weiwei is an artist and his work encompasses diverse fields including fine art, curating, architecture, design and social criticism. He is a fierce defender of freedom of expression and is always seeking new ways to communicate with the public”) and logistical information as to where to purchase the record — his website, iTunes, and all major online music retailers, in case you’re interested — there’s nothing else.

No weighty proclamations or celebrity endorsements or saucy pull quotes or a multipage hagiography or multimedia ad campaigns, but rather a standard, even minimalist press release announcing to the world that Saint Ai the Creator has given birth to another new artistic thing.

Many domestic pop culture critics will undoubtedly feel frustrated that this record will be the most covered rock music to come out of mainland China this year. While that may be true, it’s predicated on a logical fallacy: Ai can’t be blamed that this country’s independent record labels — the companies who have the economic resources and cultural influence to disseminate this music to Western audiences — tend to be mismanaged, short-sighted, and engage in virtually zero international outreach.

And while the country has no shortage of dedicated participants involved in the music biz — musicians, promoters, writers, venue managers, bloggers, DIY labels, retailers, graphic designers, and other starry-eyed idealists — the overwhelming majority of them don’t have the resources to promote this bubbling cauldron of creativity outside of the country, which is where you need to focus your attention if you want any influential press coverage that’ll generate sustained international interest in your band of choice.

Maybe Ai can help with that.

The record’s opening track, “Just Climb the Wall,” was surprising: I didn’t expect to hear that distinctive spoken-word snarl overlaid upon a swirling, swing-influenced stomp with bold, declarative piano tones clashing in the background like ivory thunderclaps, equal parts Nick Cave and lonesome urban cowboy.

While the follow-up, “Chaoyang Park,” sounds somewhat dated — those distorted guitar power chords ascending into a dissonant cloud-fuzz have been rendered perhaps a bit too close to Nine Inch Nails’s Broken for critical comfort — it does provide a suitably disorienting environment for the harsh subject matter that lyrically constitutes much of the record:

Are you still following me? I won’t do it anymore
Tell me, what’s your name? Beat me and I won’t tell
Give my cell phone back. Delete those pictures now
I have a wife and a child too. I can’t remember their phone numbers.

I think it’s easy to forget in the wake of Ai’s well-publicized brushes with the law that most musicians in this country shy away from weighty subject matter in their songs — even those in this country’s punk rock scene are guilty of utilizing formulaic flag-waving lyrical bullshit because they’re unwilling to wrap their liberty-spiked heads around anything specific — so it’s nice to hear an outsider not only mentioning the elephant in the room, but tackling it and wrestling it to the ground and trying to yank out its tusks.

And while the muddy, churning mid-tempo sediment of “Laoma Tihua” — a song that appears to recall Ai’s ill-fated trip to Chengdu to attend Tan Zuoren’s trial — was initially a sleeper, repeated listens dredge more interesting stuff up to the surface — nuanced flourishes, like silverfish darting between the reeds as ghouls shriek overhead — and drag it downstream before the current quickly corrects itself with “Hotel USA,” the closest thing on the record to a veritable road banger, a hypnotic effort laced with smoky harmonica curls and druggy campfire chanting.

This song, the first of two arranged by guitarist Zhang Zhe, flows effortlessly, perhaps to a fault, into “Give Tomorrow Back to Me,” an autopiloted ballad that eventually reaches liftoff when Zuoxiao steps in to handle the chorus: this interwoven forlorn crooning cradled in accordion whorls, guitar fills and the almost perceptible swirls of marijuana smoke makes it a contender for one of the best domestic rock songs that I’ve heard this year.

So despite those minor flaws — namely the sequencing, the unsteady pace and the juvenile lyrical content of “Dumbass,” which leaves the listener with a metallic taste in the mouth (which could have been Ai’s intention) – The Divine Comedy never sounds self-indulgent or narcissistic: it’s surprisingly muted and tightly controlled. Perhaps Ai Weiwei and Zuoxiao Zuzhou accomplished exactly what they wanted, whatever that may have been.

The Divine Comedy will be available tomorrow, the two-year anniversary of Ai Weiwei’s release from detention. Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola.

CORRECTION, 6/22, 8:03 am: Two corrections have been appended. First, Zhu Yu’s piece on cannibalism was not shown in Ai Weiwei’s exhibit as previously stated. Second, due to an editing error, we misidentified the exhibition that featured Ai’s pictures of himself smashing Han Dynasty urns. We regret the errors.

By now, you’re probably familiar with Ai Weiwei’s “Dumbass,” the Beijing-born artist-cum-activist’s widely-publicized collaborative heavy metal music video with Zuoxiao Zuzhou that was unveiled last week to promote the pair’s upcoming full-length effort, The Divine Comedy.

Directed by well-known Australian cinematographer Christopher Doyle — you may recognize his work with Zhang Yimou and Wong Kar-Wai — the highly-polished video offers a surrealistic interpretation of the 81 days that Ai, 55, reportedly spent in detention in mid-2011 for tax evasion.

In the five-minute flick, a disheveled and closely-guarded Ai goes through the mundane details of everyday prison life — slurping down noodles, showering, getting interrogated — before dissolving into expletive-laden fantasy sequences featuring blow-up dolls, strutting lingerie-clad models and a shearing given by a pint-sized prison protégé.

The video ends with a made-up Ai preening as he’s led to an unknown fate by a pair of guards, painting a speculative portrait of how we imagine the offspring of Uncle Fester, Chairman Mao and Divine would look if you combined their DNA, fertilized a turtle’s egg and hatched it in a subterranean mauve-colored incubation pod.

Ai says that this — the closely-guarded mundane activities, not the cross-dressing — reflects his detention experience.

While it’s become fashionable to bash the outspoken artist that the contemporary art magazine ArtReview has coronated the most powerful in the world for being a spotlight-seeking attention hound, we presume his decisions follow his own internal stream of logic, and we aren’t going to bash them here.

His creative choices, however, are fair game. It’s easy to forget that despite his status as a fawned-over global brand and perennial thorn in the Party’s side, he still is, first and foremost, an artist whose creative output requires public criticism in order to remain valid.

As discussion of the video continued to ripple online over the weekend, we reached out to members of the country’s independent music community to judge the song purely on its artistic merits.

Here’s what they said.

Josh Feola, Smart Beijing/pangbianr

I guess it could charitably be described as nü-metal with subtle trip hop influences. But that’s not really the point, is it? As with that ridiculous “Gangnam Style” parody video he did, Ai proves he can at this point just phone it in, record that phoning in on his iPhone, post it online, and get it written about by the New York Times. Dude can make a haircut newsworthy.

This song is a real stinker. It was presumably written by formerly-awesome avant-rock star Zuoxiao Zuzhou (Weiwei’s pink-clad co-star in his Gangnam parody). For me, the sad part is that this will be the most internationally covered music to come out of China this year. Western journalists just love that dissident angle. All media wonks love writing about everything Ai does, like shooting a music video featuring himself taking a shit. Hey, look: I just fell into the same trap!

Xie Yugang, Wang Wen

This is typical Zuoxiao Zuzhou: Dark, nervous and tight. It’s a cool song. And while the singer isn’t Zuoxiao but rather Ai himself (although Zuoxiao does sing some background vocals at the end), I think that the music in itself would be better if Zuoxiao sang for the duration: his off-tune and eccentric voice would strengthen it as a whole. However, Ai’s offbeat and Chinese karaoke-style vocal does makes the song more interesting…

Nevin Domer, Genjing Records

This harkens back to nineties-era rock in China and early performers like Dou Wei, Tongue and No (Zuoxiao Zuzhou’s band), which makes sense as this is a collaboration with Zuoxiao. While the track might not be winning any awards in the international sphere, it does capture the essence of early Chinese rock — it’s an eclectic mix of ideas and styles jumbled together in a faux-innocent and naive way conveying raw emotion without sophistication.

From a Western perspective, the mixing of classical Chinese sounds with elements of metal and electronic music creates an ahistorical feel to the song. In a Chinese context, however, it heavily connotes a period of opening up and dizzying explosion of change that was China in the 1990s. This musical confusion is echoed by the confusion represented in the lyrics and works to support Ai’s critique of modern China.

Will Griffith, Live Beijing Music:

The elements are there: a heavy metallic beat with an emphasis on trip hop. Drums take the lead, a flute brings the chorus around again and again, and Ai’s voice and lyrics bombard the song without the slightest bit of subtlety.

Does it add up to much? Aesthetically, it’s kind of a mess: none of said elements really mesh together into something cohesive and far-reaching. Granted, perhaps that’s the intent — and in fact, after a few listens, it has a kind of a ramshackle charm about it. But vocally, the man sounds terrible: he’s basically taken Zuoxiao’s signature off-key singing and made it jarring instead of intriguing. It’s in no way a train wreck, but with the talent involved, one would expect something that’s doesn’t feel forced, overproduced and overbearing.

Tim Dodds, Hu Jia Hu Wei

I like this song, but probably not enough to listen to it that many times. I find the oddness of it pleasing. I like how unpredictable it is. It’s not particularly menacing or unnerving, and doesn’t evoke the sensations of horror and savagery that the industrial-tinged instrumental may have been aiming for, but it does convey what (I believe) Ai is trying to get across: a dominant impression of a man in distress.

Most music barely has a dominant impression. Most music just leaves me thinking, “I just heard a song.” Ai’s foray into music is pretty good in this regard: it has power and resonance and that deserves some credit.

Jennifer Conrad, writer, blogger and publicist

I really did not like listening to this song. Maybe this is supposed to sound tortured to evoke Ai’s detention experience? It starts out like it could be a decent, kind of industrial song, and then Ai starts caterwauling over it — he sounds like he’s in the middle of a different song! And the overdubs near the end‽ Everyone has the right to make bad music, but I’m not sure he’s doing much to further his cause here.

Kat Velayo, nightlife editor, City Weekend Shanghai

“Dumbass” kicks off with strident guitar chords, airy synth and drumbeats that could easily be the opening strains of a random nü-metal number from a random band from anywhere. But then the vocals kick in and we’re thinking, ”Ai Weiwei is kind of a terrible vocalist.” That probably gives the song more of an edge because the words become such a focal point, and this really is all about the message, isn’t it? Zuoxiao Zuzhou actually does a great job putting together the medium through which this message is transmitted and his composition keeps your ear interested long enough to sit through Ai’s painful wailings. Is the comedic aspect of his singing deliberate? We think he might just be winking at us on this one.

Anonymous, Beijing-based writer/musician

People’s sentiments for Ai might be conflicting with their capacity for aesthetic analysis. (We could call it the “AWW Effect.”) While I sympathize with what I feel was his wrongful detention, I feel that Ai frequently reveals himself as a narcissistic bully. I take his works and opinions on a case-by-case basis, and in this case, the emperor of Chinese art appears to be naked.

The only good thing I have to say about the video is that the cinematography is mostly high-quality (to be expected, since it’s Chris Doyle). Other than that, I personally find nothing interesting, exciting, enjoyable or relevant about this “punk” song. This isn’t even punk music. It sounds like a glam rock parody. I can’t stand the voice or the thoughtless lyrics. We see images depicting detention, but there’s no real story in those images. But you never know with Ai. Maybe his purpose was to torture us.

Jon Campbell, author, Red Rock: The Long, Strange March of Chinese Rock & Roll

Anyone who thought this was going to be an actual heavy metal album a) Doesn’t comprehend the idea of metal and b) Doesn’t care what, musically, the song and/or album sounds like. For these folks, the value of this project is the idea, not the execution, and it seems to me that Ai is also of this camp.

It’s disheartening that he shows no respect for music as an art form in the way he respects sculpture, photography, installation and other mediums. The whole thing, for me, comes off as a joke. And that’s a shame because if he put his mind to it, Ai could’ve come up with something truly interesting: Not music, per se, but at least an approach involving music.

Zuoxiao Zuzhou is the musical brains behind the operation here, and for me, the song is a perfectly fine Zuoxiao tune that’s ruined by the context out of which it comes. I’m no Zuoxiao fan, but I recognize the value of his work, here and throughout his career. But in this case, the lyrics, video and the Ai element ruin it.

As challenging, artistically, as Zuoxiao’s music is, it’s not challenging in a come-right-out-and-say-”fuck-you-the-Man” way. Like the best yaogun, it challenges authority anyway, because it makes people think, which is what great music — and art — is supposed to do. Ai has created some amazing art. But you wouldn’t know it in this case.

The Divine Comedy will be released on June 22. Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola.

A week after a pair of bombs placed near the finish line at the Boston Marathon killed three, wounded 183 (including 13 with lost or maimed limbs) and ignited a weeklong manhunt that culminated in a violent standoff with a pair of ethnic Chechens, Lu Lingzi, the 23-year-old Boston University graduate student from Shenyang who was killed in the blasts, was remembered Monday night at an emotional service at BU’s GSU Metcalf Hall.

The ninety-minute service, which was open to the public and streamed live on Boston University’s website, featured Lu’s classmates and professors recalling her perpetual smile, strong work ethic and endearing personality, alongside readings from the Bible (Lu was reportedly Christian) and musical performances, including a pair of haunting piano performances from fellow Chinese nationals.

In the eulogy, Lu’s weeping father recalled a “jolly little elf” who excelled at calligraphy and the piano and was particularly adept at creating personal relationships with everyone she encountered. She remembered every food that she ever tried, he said, and as a high school student, she racked up a series of scholarships, studying English well into the night and making every effort to learn about the college application process.

“Every child is actually a little buddha who helps her parents mature and grow up,” he said, referring to an ancient Chinese proverb. “We will never forget you.”

A memorial fund created in conjunction with her family, the Lu Lingzi Scholarship Fund, has already raised more than $630,000.

Another Chinese national, Lu’s fellow BU student and friend, Zhou Danling, was gravely wounded in the bombing, the deadliest act of terror on American soil since the September 11 attacks, and continues to recover from her injuries at Boston Medical Center.

Suspect Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, a marine biology major at the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth, was charged on Monday by federal prosecutors in his hospital room at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center with conspiring to use a weapon of mass destruction, a crime that carries a possible death sentence. He is unable to speak due to throat and neck injuries sustained during his capture and remains in serious condition.

About 200,000 Chinese nationals are currently studying in the United States, or about 22 percent of the total number of foreign students in the country. In the wake of the bombing, we reached out to several former, current and prospective students about public safety, assimilation and their experiences in the US.

Shuai, 23, student: Hendrix College, Conway, AR

Do you feel safe in the United States?
Most of the time. I live in the South, however, and everyone has a gun here. For an international student, it’s nearly impossible to get a gun license to protect ourselves. It’s kinda not fair. Sometimes I worry about getting shot in the street.

You arrived in 2008 when you were 18. Any big cultural differences?
The drinking and partying was a cultural difference, for sure. And I live in the Bible Belt: almost 90% of them are Christian.

Have you been converted yet?
No.

Lu Lingzi, one of the fatalities from last week, was Chinese. How did you react?
Her death is a tragedy, to be sure. There are lots of incidents happening around the world every day. While this incident may affect many people’s feeling about living the States, it doesn’t necessarily represent the States nor does it really represent anything — it’s just an incident.

How often do you talk to your family?
Every other day.

Sue*, early-30s, venture capitalist: Bay Area, CA

Tell us about yourself.
I’m originally from Beijing. After my getting my undergrad in Beijing, I got my MBA from [an East Coast school] in 2012 before moving to the Bay Area to work in the investment sector, primarily with early stage startups.

What did you think about the US before you arrived?
The stereotype about the US from the Chinese news was that students were lazy [laughs]. I had some friends who told me that American students “couldn’t calculate” — you know, think analytically.

And after your arrival?
Everyone that I met was super-smart and super-hardworking. Everyone. I was enrolled in a highly selective program with some very smart people. And in regards to the country itself, it’s huge and diverse, just like China, each section with a different culture, language dialect and lifestyle. I learned to see the country as a whole — not just in small parts.

Chinese students in the US are stereotyped as being very insular…
Very true. But being in an MBA program, my classmates were different — they were very aggressive because networking, getting to know people from all over the world, is very important in business. And while some friends and classmates initially had problems with the culture and language barriers, I think that our experience can be considered to fall under special circumstances and isn’t representative of the Chinese experience as a whole.

Do you feel safe in the US?
Generally. After the [Highway 85] shootings last year in Cupertino, many of us [in the Chinese community] talked about getting guns. The incident encouraged us to get some protection and learn how to shoot. But it wasn’t a serious consideration [laughs]. To be honest, I value America’s advanced technologies and business opportunities more than basic safety.

Note: At this moment in our phone call on the night of April 18, initial reports surfaced of the shots fired on the MIT campus that resulted in the death of campus police officer Sean Collier and the subsequent firefight between police and the two suspects.

How about in China?
We can’t imagine this kind of thing — bombs and terrorism — in China. But then there’s the food safety and pollution issues…

*Not her real name

Jing Gao, late-20s, blogger and freelance journalist: Midwest

Tell us about yourself.
I came to the US from Nanjing for my master’s degree right after graduation from a Chinese university in 2008.

Any culture shock?
Because of my personal affinity for and prior knowledge of the US gained through websurfing, reading and film and TV watching, I was, for the most part, prepared for the cultural and social aspects of the US.

My biggest problems and surprises during my adjustment period, which lasted probably a year, were that many locals talked a bit too fast and unclear, and that Americans are as poles apart from one another as Chinese are. I thought that all Americans were talkative, humorous, critical of their government and passionate about social causes. Whereas this could probably be said of 70% of the population, 30% couldn’t be more different.

How often do you socialize with other Chinese?
Very often. Chinese nationals living in my area often hang out together at least once a week. I don’t necessarily regard it as a sign of failure to blend in with Americans. Instead, I believe there are sometimes cultural differences that prove hard to overcome for Americans and Chinese to hang out very often. For example, some Americans may never understand why Chinese love to eat hotpot and play board games together, namely mahjong and poker, whereas some Chinese never find the American way of spending weekends, including bar crawls and watching baseball, interesting at all.

Do you feel safe?
Despite my overall positive impression of life in the States, safety is probably one of my few concerns here. Generally, I feel safer in China, and I’ve never had any problem or concern walking alone at night in the streets in Nanjing, Beijing or other Chinese cities, and I actually did that a lot when I was an undergrad.

There are probably many more petty crimes, such as property theft, pickpocket and burglary, but I guess percentage-wise, much fewer violent crimes in China. But in the States, we are always advised not to walk alone at night — and from what I heard on campus, violence occurs pretty frequently in small college towns in the Midwest where I live.

Has it directly touched you?
One of my close Chinese friends got mugged himself: he was dragged into the bushes on the roadside and beaten repeatedly before his wallet was taken away despite the fact that he didn’t even try to resist. The prevalence of gun ownership is one reason we are uneasy, and we have had too many gun shootings and gun-related massacres in the past few years.

Can something like the Boston bombings happen in China?
China also has terrorists and extremists, but so far, they have not yet had the opportunity to cause any real harm on a large or severe scale. That might have something to do, fortunately or unfortunately, with the fact that China is such an Orwellian state.

Michael, 18, high school student: Shanxi, China

You’re going to study in the US this fall…
I’m going to the University of Chicago to pursue my undergraduate education. I would like to fully engage in college and make good use of all the educational resources and opportunities. It also fascinates me to know more people and make more friends from different backgrounds. Just take some challenges and have some fun, in general.

What’s the mood like in China now?
People generally mourn and pray for Lingzi and her family. Her death is indeed heartbreaking. I think it is really a dreadful tragedy for all regardless of nationality.

Has the incident changed how you feel about moving to the US?
This tragic incident makes me more concerned with safety issues in America. I hope such incidents may never happen again.

Ethan, 29, MBA student: Fordham Graduate of Business, New York City

Tell us about yourself.
I was born in Beijing and most recently came to New York in Fall 2011.

Do you feel safe in the US?
It’s a mixed emotion. I’ve been living in Manhattan, so I think it’s quite safe under 120th Street. I’ve never had a safety issue. But I know people get robbed or something in the Bronx and Brooklyn — especially late at night. If you scale out of New York, I think the US is still quite safe in most areas.

Do you ever worry about something happening that may not happen in China?
In recent years, shootings on campuses have popped up on the news once in a while — they’ve raised some awareness of gun control. I know there won’t be tragedy to such an extent in China, so I don’t worry about massive killing on Chinese campuses.

Did you have culture shock when you first arrived?
I’m kinda different from other Chinese students because I studied in a US public high school back in 1999. Also I was immersed in rock music, films, art and other cultural stuff, so it wasn’t so difficult for me to live and study here. I’m pretty adaptable, anyway: I have a really lovely group of friends, we hang out almost every week. They are creative artists, curators, bar owners and even actors. I had a great time here in New York mostly because of them.

How often do you socialize with other Chinese?
In Fordham, there are about 1,200 new Chinese every year. Now I serve as president of the Chinese business society at Fordham Graduate School. We have 500-plus members and I love to attend other Chinese organizations’ panels, social events and things like that.

Have you encountered any cultural differences or misunderstandings?
People say America is like a salad bowl, various cultural and races mixing together, especially so in New York. I found that the most common cases of misunderstanding happen to the Chinese students who are not very familiar with the context of Western democracy, values and relationships. Some of them are less likely to pay attention to art or think that it’s useless. A majority of them won’t even read any novels: they are focused heavily on school work and looking for jobs in which they have no idea of the context. And the Chinese are less likely to make friends with others.

Has the incident changed how you feel about living in America?
I feel sympathy for all the innocent victims. I haven’t talked about it with anyone, and I know it’s making a tremendous impact to her family because we are all from one-child families. I feel sorry for her tragedy. This… is not the first time [this has happened] and neither will it be the last. Terrorist activities are going on everywhere else — I just hope the government will do something for the benefit of world peace and pray for the good people. 

Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola. (Image Melody Komyerov, BU Today)

All white people look the same — paunchy with yellow hair — so the news that a pair of Asian television networks committed two separate Thatcher-related mix-ups during their coverage of the former British Prime Minister’s death on Monday at the age of 87 should come as little surprise.

The first, Taiwan’s CTi Cable, broadcast footage of Queen Elizabeth II greeting well-wishers instead of Thatcher.

Like Lady Thatcher, Queen Elizabeth II is an 87-year-old British politician. Unlike Lady Thatcher, however, Queen Elizabeth II is a different person and had well-wishers to greet.

The second came from Thailand’s state-owned Channel 5, which displayed an image of American actress Meryl Streep instead of Queen Elizabeth II Margaret Thatcher for two minutes during televised coverage.

Streep, 63, won an Academy Award for her portrayal of Maggie the Milk Snatcher in the 2011 biopic The Iron Lady.

Like Queen Elizabeth II, she also is not Margaret Thatcher.

Both stations apologized for their respective screw-ups.

In related news, tributes continued to flow in from Hong Kong on Tuesday, with local businessman and Thatcher BFF David Tang describing the Iron Lady as one of the greatest politicians of the twentieth century while various tabloids and broadsheets across the mainland rolled out their tacky commemorative editions.

While reactions on the street in the SAR have been muted — “Hong Kong was better suited to weather Thatcherism than Britain,” a source told Beijing Cream, “and as a result, we like her while people in the United Kingdom hate her” — at least one Hong Konger is planning on celebrating:

“Plenty of Tories in Hong Kong will bang on about her great vision and steely determination and so on,” said Sean Hocking, founder of local record label Metal Postcard. “But our generation was damaged, either through her economic policies or desire to destroy the welfare state.”

Hocking, 48, told BJC that he was a student at Sussex University, Brighton in 1984 when the IRA set off a bomb and narrowly missed taking out the Prime Minister.

“We heard it up on the Downs and when we knew the news the following morning, we headed towards the Grand Hotel to see how many Tories the IRA had managed to get.”

Five Tories were gotten and 31 were injured. You may have seen a dramatic depiction of the event in the 2010 Academy Award-winning film the The King’s Speech.

While not a supporter of the IRA, Hocking stressed, the bombing illustrated how divisive Thatcher was and the extent to which she polarized the country’s youth.

“Just watch China as it walks down the Thatcherist road: social inequality will just grow and grow,” he said. “Brixton and Toxteth will be a walk in the park compared to Chinese social discord in 2025.”

Hocking’s associate, Rocker, plans to broadcast a tribute show for the rest of the month via his program on Dandelion Radio, showcasing many of the UK artists that emerged as a result of the highly-politicized environment in the late-1970s and throughout much of the following decade.

In burial news, the British government said on Tuesday said that Barbara Bush will receive a ceremonial funeral with military honors on April 17 at St. Paul’s Cathedral.

Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola. 

Margaret Thatcher visits the Aberdeen Housing Estate on December 20, 1984, accompanied by housing official L.K. Chan (Bettmann/CORBIS)

Margaret Thatcher, the outspoken former Prime Minister who transformed Great Britain during her stewardship of the country from 1979 to 1990 and inspired the global conservative moment during her decade in power, died Monday from a stroke.

Great Britain’s only woman prime minister, the so-called Iron Lady led the Conservative Party to three electoral victories in a streak that was the longest continuous period in office by a British premier since the early nineteenth century.

Thatcher, 87, remained an extremely divisive figure in Great Britain despite stepping away from public office in 1990, continuing to provoke visceral emotional reactions and passionate debate on her native turf and throughout the Commonwealth.

The rival Labour Party decried Thatcher’s drastic reduction of union rights and stripping away of state control, policies that manifested themselves in the Conservative Party’s dismantling of the traditional industrial base and privatization of nationalized industries.

Critics also claimed that her policies were draconian and destroyed traditional working class strongholds, a claim made more salient by her famous assertion that “there is no such thing as society — there are individual men and women and there are families.”

The introduction of a controversial flat tax in 1989 that was said to disproportionately affect the working class later led to localized rioting at the end of her tenure as Prime Minister.

Her supporters, for their part, argued that Thatcher was the catalyst that the nation needed to reenergize after a long period of national decay. She snapped the union grip that was said to be holding back the economy, they argued, and she put the boots to the country’s stagnant brand of leftist entitlement ethics.

And in terms of her dismantling of the traditional industrial base, well, that was finished, anyway, and by delivering the knockout punch, the grocer’s daughter and former research chemist cleared the way for the growth of a strong free-market economy fueled by private investment and entrepreneurship.

The Chinese are likely to be familiar with Thatcher as a result of her role as the foreign leader who went head-to-head with political heavyweights Deng Xiaoping and Zhao Ziyang in a last-ditch effort to hold on to Hong Kong, then a British colony, before she capitulated and signed the Sino-British Joint Declaration in December 1984 under which Great Britain agreed to hand over Hong Kong to China in 1997 after 150 years of British colonial rule.

For more information on those meetings, read Henry Kissinger’s On China or Robert Cottrell’s excellent The End of Hong Kong: The Secret Diplomacy of Imperial Retreat. Both are invaluable resources. But we go for low-hanging fruit — often more digestible — so below we present the five juiciest China-related tidbits from the Baroness’ long life in public service.

Thatcher fell down the stairs at the Great Hall of the People
Let’s just get this out of the way: While exiting a farewell banquet at the Great Hall of the People in 1982, Battlin’ Maggie took a tumble and fell to her knees in front of the waiting television cameras and foreign press corps. We’ve all had a maotai-induced stumble, natch, just from less-storied stairwells — like at Propaganda or your subterranean Sanlitun shithole of choice.

She was an early advocate against the Great Firewall
Thatcher pressed the CCP on a free and open Internet as early as 1996. In a speech given to gathered officials in Beijing in November of that year, the former Prime Minister expressed “dismay” at harsh sentences for dissidents, referenced Qin-era book-burning and warned China not to block Internet access, predicting that economic reform was “bound to lead in time to change in the way in which China is governed.”

She lobbied against serving sea slugs and shark fins to senior-level cadres
The Iron Lady argued with Foreign Office staffers as to whether sea slugs, jam sandwiches and shark fin should be served at a banquet for Chinese dignitaries in 1982. Why? Just to save a few kuai. We all know how that feast turned out. And to add insult to injury, Good Guy Zhao was the only senior-level official to join the event after the exceedingly-frosty negotiation process. The rest opted to attend the competing diplomatic bash held in the same building — a reception for one Kim Il-sung.

Thatcher bonded with senior-level officials in 1977 over a shared contempt toward trade unions
While she didn’t assume the office of the Prime Minister until 1979, the then-head of the Conservative Party was invited to China in April 1977 because the authorities saw her as a likely government leader — one who was staunchly anti-Soviet expansion, to boot — with whom they should preemptively become acquainted. In a country that was still swirling in palace intrigue after Chairman Mao’s death and the demise of the Gang of Four six months earlier, Thatcher broke bread with senior-level officials, including Deputy Prime Minister Li Xiannian and Chairman Hua Guofeng, over the shared belief that allowing trade unions to interfere in national politics was dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. Both, as we know, eventually made good on their promises.

She continued to lament the one that got away
In a 2007 radio interview, the octogenarian uncharacteristically expressed sadness at the 1997 handover, revealing that she wanted a continuation of British administration in Hong Kong. “But when this proved impossible,” she said, “I saw the opportunity to preserve most of what was unique to Hong Kong through applying Mr. Deng’s ideas to our circumstances. I was very sad, but one didn’t want to start intruding again at that time. People wouldn’t have liked it, and quite understandably they wouldn’t.”

What do you think about Margaret Thatcher’s legacy? Let us know in the comments section below.

Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola. 

Ah, music festival season in China. With the balmy climes and fluffy white cottonwood pollen comes the annual rumor mill about which bold-faced recording artists are slated to perform at the summertime’s numerous annual kickoff events, which have been denied performance permits, and general conspiratorial grumblings about why this is and who’s to blame.

The controversy has already begun. Kraftwerk, an influential electronic music outfit, was denied permission to play at the Modern Sky Strawberry Music Festival in Beijing later this month, AFP reported last Friday. Meanwhile, another groundbreaking experimental act, PiL, the boundary-pushing brainchild of Sex Pistols co-founder and all-around gadfly John Lydon (formerly Johnny Rotten), was allowed to perform in Beijing and Shanghai this past weekend, despite Lydon characteristically crabbing to NME that he had to submit the entirety of his eyebrow-raising lyrical oeuvre to the Ministry of Culture.

This raises two questions:

Why? How?

Gah! Lydon has been in the public spotlight for the past 40 years with a reputation for being an unfiltered loudmouth, while Kraftwerk comprises mild-mannered neatniks who perform yawn-inducing electronic drone music and sing about robots and technology while wearing matching outfits. Why give the outspoken provocateur a pass and ban the science dorks?

While it’s easy to fault the authorities for being oppressive Bond villains, the reality of the delicate ballet between cultural officials and promoters is a swirling maelstrom of three main factors that, while inconvenient for the rest of us, might actually make sense when viewed through this country’s unique cultural prism. Let’s take a look.

Internal politics

China doesn’t like outsiders meddling in her internal affairs. Period. When it comes to hot-button issues like national sovereignty and sensitive “state secrets,” namely Tibet, the Dharma Wheel People, the Blind Guy and the Bearded One, then all bets are off — especially when incoming foreign artists have, through their participation in activist political movements, spurred the growth of organizations like Students for a Free Tibet that actively seek to widen China’s already-fragile fault lines.

While the Ministry of Culture (MOC), the state organ that is responsible for setting guidelines for the country’s cultural policies, did not give a reason other than “political issues” for rejecting Kraftwerk, it’s tacitly understood that the decision is related to the long-running German outfit’s planned participation at the Tibetan Freedom Concert, a massive 1998 festival at RFK Stadium in Washington DC that sought to support the controversial Tibetan independence movement.

Kraftwerk didn’t end up performing at the gig, having pulled out after lightning strikes during Herbie Hancock’s set.

But lightning apparently does strike twice. “We had to submit the audio, videos and lyrics [of Kraftwerk] to the Ministry of Culture,” Modern Sky staffer Peng Peng told the Deutsche Presse Agentur after news of the band’s Chinese visa denial was made public. “They review it. If they think the lyrics are not proper, or some live videos are too extreme, too bloody, too obscene or too violent, they will ask you to change the song.”

“If you don’t want to change it, you just cannot perform (in China),” Peng said. “If you have any political problem, it will be impossible for you to come.”

On-stage political outbursts by foreign artists, authorities say, empowers and legitimizes dissidents and inflames pre-existing tensions. Oft-cited screamers include the reactions to the Rolling Stones’ Shanghai gig in April 2006 when the authorities channeled their inner Ed Sullivan by prohibiting the band from performing the sexually-suggestive “Let’s Spend the Night Together,” the controversy that swirled around Bob Dylan’s April 2011 visit, and the blowback surrounding that infamous list of 100 Western pop songs banned by the MOC because they had the potential to harm “national cultural security.” And of course, Bjork 2008 and Elton John 2012.

While the culture ministry’s zero-tolerance policy appears to have been successful in clamping down on potentially volatile incidents — some would write it off as specious reasoning — it has also resulted in headaches for local promoters and live music venue operators.

Artists are regularly required to submit lyric sheets to festival organizers. “We just replace every swear word with the word ‘hug’ or ‘love.’ It’s a pretty common trick!” one Shanghai-based musician told Beijing Cream.

Meanwhile, artwork must be approved by CD manufacturers who engage in self-censorship and often hold up a product if they find it questionable. “The original cover design of our first record featured a man with a bloody axe holding Mao Zedong’s head,” a Beijing-based musician told us. “But because no factories in China would print this, the head was later changed to that of then-US president George W. Bush.”

Sometimes it’s impossible to game the system. Homegrown indie label Maybe Mars, for example, nixed plans to release Sin Harmony, the fifth full-length effort by Wuhan punk outfit SMZB, last spring due to politically sensitive lyrical content, while another first-generation hardcore punk band, Pangu, is currently in exile in Sweden.

Slippery slopes

The MOC is likely aware that they have to use discretion when it comes to which foreign recording artists constitute an acceptable level of risk management.

It also should be assumed — assume being the operative word, considering the opaque workings of mainland China’s inner sanctum — that there is bureaucratic infighting when it comes to building consensus and policymaking. And judging by the byzantine structuring of the MOC’s departments – there are 11 of them, each with vaguely-worded responsibilities and goals — no clear consensus exists as to how to efficiently set and execute policy. Better to pluck out the easiest targets and worry about consistency later.

PiL, by the way, was also screened. “The Chinese government asked me to send every lyric I have ever written and they surprisingly approved me,” the outspoken Lydon mused. “They have either incredible good taste or they have no idea what I’m going on about. I can’t wait to find out.” But the important thing isn’t what the 57-year-old lead singer has said, but what he has not. Namely, he’s never publicly supported (or planned to support) Tibetan independence movements or other anti-PRC causes.

“Don’t expect us to come there and tell you how to run your country — we’re not Elton John,” he told SmartBeijing earlier this month. “I’m coming as a human being. I’m not coming to tell you how to live your life. I’m coming to explain how I live my life. And that we will share.”

Fear and Loathing

Don’t think you have it figured out, though. Life in the Middle Kingdom often defies logic, and it’s daft to presume that decisions and policies are made with any kind of consistent logic (see: 100 banned songs).

Acclaimed American noise-rock outfit Sonic Youth, for example, participated at the same aforementioned Tibetan Freedom Concert in 1998, yet managed to receive the visas necessary to perform in mainland China in April 2007 with minimal interference from the authorities, while a supporting outfit, the apolitical Beijing noise-rock outfit Carsick Cars, was forbidden to perform.

“It took [the organizers] nearly a year to tell us why they had axed us,” the musician, who requested to remain anonymous, wrote Beijing Cream in an email. “They ultimately told us that the Chinese translation of our band name was too controversial for the censors’ approval. While they did thank us for our support, they said that we would never be allowed to perform at a MIDI show with that name.”

The band later broke up and the members regrouped under a different handle that would be unlikely to trigger the censors. But in 2011, the musician said, they were among one of five bands who were prohibited from performing at another festival in Nanjing, the commercial and cultural powerhouse located three hours northwest of Shanghai by train.

For all anyone knows — the MOC didn’t pick up our weekend phone call — foreign recording artists may very well be at the mercy of a young, apple-cheeked intern tasked with navigating concepts that they don’t entirely understand.

Perhaps the MOC is staffed with aged bureaucrats scared of what they do not comprehend. Or maybe all decisions are handed down by a disgruntled cadre who, while charged with sifting through Lydon’s lyrics sheets, found in the aging punk rocker a common spirit:

That’s from the Sex Pistols’ 1977 punk anthem “Pretty Vacant.” Maybe, just maybe, John Lydon understands this country better than we do.

Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola.

Most white people in Mainland China have misrepresented themselves at one time or another — or have at least been given the royal treatment without any probing questions into their backgrounds or credentials or even the assurance that they can string three coherent sentences together in any language, much less Mandarin Chinese.

This is nothing new.

Some of us aren’t qualified at whatever it is that we get paid to do. And yet here we are, posing as “digital specialists” and “teachers” and “creative consultants” and “journalists” and whatever else.

This is also nothing new.

It should come as little surprise, then, that one Zhao Xiyong (赵锡永) materialized in Yunnan, presumably in his trusty Santana, and one-upped all of us scheming shysters by convincing provincial officials that he was the head of the country’s State Council Research Office, reported the Telegraph on Monday.

For three years, Zhao kept himself busy — mainly typical government stuff like visiting vegetable patches, giving speeches and leading delegations – until the jig was up and he disappeared, presumably in an aromatic cloud of black hair dye and cigarette smoke while cackling and twirling a singular mole hair.

This is really something.

“We have recently received reports that Zhao Xiyong is pretending to be the head of the State Council Research Office and an official of vice-minister level,” read a terse report issued by the State Council on March 8, presumably before several heads rolled down the corridor. “He does not work for the State Council and no research team has ever been sent to Yunnan province.”

Zhao faces up to a decade in prison if found, which he probably won’t be.

“Why was it so easy for a Chinese citizen to pose as a senior Communist Party official?” asked WaPo’s Max Fisher before hitting all of the perfunctory talking points that reporters painfully must use when they have to explain China to people who don’t live in China: sprawling bureaucracy, public apathy — “天高皇帝远” and all of that.

Folks here in China, instead of expressing bewilderment, should be asking each other, “Why can’t you be more like Zhao Xiyong?”

We feel as if the imposter should be given a medal — or at least given his own national holiday.

How about March 5?

Lei who? That’s what we thought.

In the spirit of Zhao Xiyong Day, here are five quick ways toward the path to duplicity in Mainland China.

Spice up that CV
Familiarize yourself with high-octane words like “synergy,” “results-oriented” and “strategery.” If pressed during an interview or business meeting, just repeat variations of the above alongside a series of impressive hand gestures and a winsome smile. Issue compliments and/or lie when necessary. Don’t smoke? Start.

Get friendly with euphemisms
You’re not unemployed—you’re in transition. On sabbatical. Sanitation engineer. Business specialist. Part-time digital strategist. International communications expert. Advanced bilingual linguistic consultant specialist. Americanologist. Put all of these phrases on fancy-looking business cards and outfit yourself with a spring-loaded hip holster, Sinonaut.

Walk the walk…
Crisp button-up white shirt, black slacks and a neat haircut. No tie. Lose the neckbeard. It may not be fashionable, but it’s effective camouflage. In general, stop looking like a pretentious hipster trying to express individuality through your appearance. You’re not special, snowflake. Blend into the crowd. Don’t forget the holster.

…And talk the talk
You don’t need 3,000 characters. How about 50? Just memorize the common ones in love songs — words like “爱” and “太阳” and “我” or “赵锡永” — and the next time you’re at a KTV session, point them out as they whiz by on the television and write them on a cocktail napkin. Everyone will think you’re great and you’ll get the lucrative contract that you’ve been angling for.

Act like you know
Be confident — arrogant, even. It’s contagious. Master the art of spin and never admit when you’re wrong. Remember, even when you’re wrong, you’re right. And when someone else is right, they’re actually wrong.

Now stop wasting your potential, goddamn you, and go out there and lead some visiting delegations.

Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola. 

How are you like Zhao Xiyong? Feel free to add your own tips below.

“We can let them flood your country with disaster and therefore impair your interests. In our country we have too many women, and they have a way of doing things. They give birth to children, and our children are too many.” ― Mao Zedong

The Duggar flock — 19 children (and counting!), their parents and a gaggle of grandchildren — recently traveled to Beijing, Tokyo and Kyoto to film the three-part special installment “19 Kids and Counting: Duggers Do Asia.”

The Arkansas-based brood, all of whom have a name that starts with the letter J, have achieved a degree of notoriety on their native turf for their fundamentalist Christian beliefs and baby-making lifestyle, which have come under attack for being environmentally irresponsible and what some argue is an archaic ideology that has unnecessarily contributed to global overpopulation.

The Duggars, bless their hearts, have dismissed the claims as nonsense. “One of the greatest myths in today’s society is that the world is overpopulated,” said patriarch Jim Bob on the brood’s website. “By raising these children to love the Lord and to serve and love others… that hopefully is going to make a difference for good in our world,” added family matriarch Michelle, who recently stated her desire to grow the flock despite serious health repercussions.

Domestic controversy aside, Team Duggar can be seen in the episode’s teaser nailing all of the Middle Kingdom clichés, including asking locals if they speak English (“We couldn’t communicate at all!” sighs the incredulous matriarch), shirking away from the must-have Wangfujing Scorpions on Sticks™, mangling the obligatory “Ni hao” (clad in pointy hats, natch) and of course, commenting on the toilets.

A photo gallery on their personal blog displays select shots of the cornpone yokels peeking out of capsule hotels, riding in rickshaws and visiting an orphanage (presumably scouting out a new member to their flock, perhaps a Jing or a Ji or little Jia) and egregiously displaying their best samurai moves.

While it remains to be seen if their attitudes towards family size have changed after navigating some of the world’s most crowded metropolises, Elder Son Josh and his wife have just announced the imminent arrival of their third child. We’ll have more on this story after we catch the primetime special.

Mazel tov!

“19 Kids and Counting: Duggars Do Asia, Part One” airs tonight on TLC, 9 pm (ET/PT). Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets @pmdemola.

By Pete DeMola

I’m one of the few people I know who can probably recount all thirty of my Christmases without skipping a beat: I was born the day before the Big Day, and I have a twin brother.

As such, the two-day period has historically been conflated and has taken on a special significance characterized by a sense of the Other – a Bizarro World consisting of shuttered storefronts sighing under the weight of the Northeastern winter gloom and midnight church services and loving parents and the Little Sis making sure that the Big Two were always consistent in their borderline mediocrity as the Other Guy and I found ways to amuse ourselves.

Twenty-three of those years were spent identically. Apart from my first Christmas – one that was passed, in part, tucked into a stocking alongside the Other Guy (good one, parents) – they’ve all been the deadened hum of vehicles traveling over packed snow to visit relatives and ruminating over another year while fielding volleys of folksy questions from good-hearted simpletons like, “Gee whiz – I guess you get gypped every year on presents” and “Wow, what a Christmas for your parents!”

This will be my eighth Christmas abroad. And since I spent the first twenty-three of them traipsing around snowy suburban lots with the Other Guy stirring up holiday mischief in attempts to generate an antidote for the often-numbing sameness, I suppose that on some unconscious level, I’d prefer to be alone if I can’t be with him.

Life in China, however, has finally provided the sought-after cure to that historic two-dimensionality, namely for two reasons:

The country’s insular culture pushes expats to generate their own holiday traditions – we are all immigrants, after all, seeking to create new shared schematic experiences – and because the ephemeral nature of expat existence leads to a revolving cast of friends and networks that often shift from year-to-year, resulting in a variety of different celebrations depending on who you happen to be hanging with at the time.

Those twenty-three years of the blurred Big Two, then, have been replaced by unbelievable variety, a wide range of Christmas Day experiences that have run the gamut from the particularly Chinese (starting a new job as a business reporter) to joyous (the year when a multinational rainbow coalition of expats assembled at a Mexican restaurant before getting tanked at a Japanese sake joint) to subdued, like last year’s session of scotch swirling with a German businessman at a dimly-lit café in a southwestern provincial backwater.

This will be my first Merry Birthday in Hong Kong, a city that, unlike the mainland, actually seriously observes the holiday – that is to say, it means a hell of a lot more to locals than a mere cynical vehicle for marketing that is also a reminder of the paradoxes of modern-day China, a desire to fit in yet shun foreign influence: all cheap advertising copy and gaudy decorations and butchered traditions and the idiotic donning of pointy Santa hats and antlers outfitted with blinking LED lights.

It’s made the leap from an insular tradition to one that’s been incorporated into the mainstream. Here in the former British colony, the traditionalism is here if you want it – and so are the submerged pockets of uniqueness.

With over 150 years of practice, the holiday’s staid British customs are cemented into the Hong Kong psyche: brandy-laced pudding, roasted turkey dinners, Dickensian plays and the singing of hymns all run deep alongside the threads taken from the SAR’s increasingly-dynamic grab bag of nationalities – like the hallowed Nochebuena from the fun-loving (and devoutly Catholic) Filipinos, for example, or the local tradition of taking in the holiday lights while reveling at the Causeway Bay, and Tsim Sha Tsui countdowns after blowing five figures on an ostentatious feast before hopping on a plane to a glamorous holiday destination.

The kids even had a riot one year, an act of Yuletide cheer in 1981 that unfortunately didn’t become a recurring tradition.

While my experiences during the Big Two will undoubtedly again be a product of ephemeral circumstance – like singing folk songs with my Filipino shopkeeper pals under the palms, for example – the city’s distinctive culture will come into play, too – namely that of making money to survive in this cutthroat hotpot of ultra-competitiveness: the SAR’s defining characteristic.

Nonetheless, I will wish that the Other Guy – that burly bearded figure who works up in the Arctic Circle doing what it is that he does in his Kerouac Life – was here to add that element of sameness.

Pete DeMola is a writer and creative consultant in Hong Kong. He tweets at @pmdemola.