Zheng4 Yi2 郑怡
Yue4 qin2 月琴 Lute （note 1)
再唱一段思想起
zai4 chang4 yi2 duan4 si1 xiang3 qi3
Again sing one section of Melody of Nostalgia (note 2)
唱一段思想起 唱一段唐山谣
chang4 yi2 duan4 si1 xiang3 qi3, chang4 yi2 duan4 tang2 shan1 yao2
Sing one section of Melody of Nostalgia, sing one section of Tang Shan Ballad (note 3)
走不尽的坎坷路 恰如祖先的步履
zou3 bu2 jin4 de5 kan3 ke1 lu4, qia4 ru2 zu3 xian1 de5 bu4 lv3
Walk the endless bumpy road, just like the footsteps of ancestors
抱一支老月琴 三两声不成调
bao4 yi4 zhi1 lao3 yue5 qin2, san3 liang3 sheng1 bu4 cheng2 diao4
Holding an old lute, played a couple of sounds, however could not make a tune.
老歌手琴音犹在 独不见恆春的传奇
lao3 ge1 shou3 qin2 yin1 you2 zai4, du2 bu2 jian4 heng2 chun1 de5 chuan2 qi2
The old singer’s (note 4) lute sound is still ringing, however, the legend of Heng Chun is gone.
落山风向海洋 感伤会消逝
luo4 shan1 feng1 xiang4 hai3 yang2, gan3 shang1 hui4 xiao1 shi1
Chinook wind blows toward the ocean, the sentimental feeling will disappear
接续你的休止符 再唱一段唐山谣
jie1 xu4 ni3 de5 xiu1 zhi3 fu2, zai4 chang4 yi2 duan4 tang2 shan1 yao2
Pick up and continue your pause, and again sing one section of Tang Shan Ballad
再唱一段思想起 再唱一段思想起
zai4 chang4 yi2 duan4 si1 xiang3 qi3, zai4 chang4 yi2 duan4 si1 xiang3 qi3
Again sing one section of Melody of Nostalgia, again sing one section of Melody of Nostalgia
Translated by Shu
Note:
1 Yue4 qin2 :yueqin, a lute with oval or octagonal sound box
2. Si1 xiang3 qi3: an unique grassroots folk music originated from the deep south of Taiwan （恒春 Heng Chun).
3. Tang Shan Ballad: The people of Taiwan referred Mainland China as “Tang Shan”, means the world of Tang or Tang’s mountains and rivers. Tang Shan Ballad refers to the folk songs of China.
4. The old singer refers to Chen2 Da2 or Chen Ta 陈达. Chen became one of many national symbols of Taiwan, characterized by his sad voice and hard lifestyle as a wandering beggar. See more about Chen Ta, please read the following article – Travel: Music of Taiwan’s Deep South.
Fulao Folk Song in Taiwan Island:
Traveling through time tunnel， you hear one folk song after another and are immersed in the vitality of the Taiwan Island. In all the Fulao folk songs， there lie the strong emotions， hard struggling and living details of Taiwanese. From Chen Da`s `Suz Hsiang Qi–Melody of Nostalgia，` `Suz Ji Chun–Melody of Celebrations，` `Qu Pau Puang–Melody of Wedding Eve` to `Go Kang Hsiao Tiao–Melody of Five Stanzas，` every classic has recorded the bitter-sweet history of hundreds of years of Taiwanese. From College Students` `Folk Songs Movements` of the 60s to the field recording of the 90s， this documentary collection series represents the footsteps that every folk singer had made upon Taiwan`s land， the tears and laughter they shared with us， and the love they expressed for us to our island.
This passage comes from:
http://www.windmusic.com.tw/en/pro_list.asp?LIB_ID=C&SET_NO=CX05&id=03
Travel: Music of Taiwan’s Deep South
Hengchun Folk music, relatively little known even in Taiwan, is now gaining wider recognition as a distinctive musical genre worthy of being passed on to a new generation.
When Americans think of music from the Deep South, they usually think of Mississippi Delta Blues. What is less well known is that Taiwan also has unique grassroots folk music originating from its deep south, with traditions that share many similarities with the blues, including a raw sound and sadness in describing the hardships of life.
Originating in the Hengchun (恆春) peninsula that makes up the island’s southernmost tip, this music was dubbed by the late nativist ethnomusicologist Hsu Chang-hui (許常惠) to be the only music in Taiwan that retained the original flavor of Fujian Province folk songs from the Ming and Qing dynasties. Even during the authoritarian Kuomintang era, when the state pushed both its national Beijing music and Western classical music as a kind of high art, somehow this music remained extant in the town of Hengchun, along with neighboring towns Manzhou(滿洲) and Checheng (車城). Scholars “discovered” this style of music in the late 1960s, and soon found that it was not purely that of early Chinese immigrants but had stylistic influences from plains aborigines, setting it apart from any other music found in the world to this day.
The Delta Blues of the Deep South share several similarities with Heng-chun Folk. Both styles boast an earthy, raw sound that generally has the hallmark of a solo guitarist simultaneously singing and playing, most often relying heavily on improvisation. The two styles both boast a slew of traditional tunes that can be altered in limitless ways through a musician’s own creativity. Both have been largely ignored by the public and the elite during industrial development, regarded at the time as merely the music of the nation’s “inferiors” in a backwater area.
Another element in common is that both forms of music were brought to general public attention through the work of forward-thinking intellectuals. In addition, both often rely on a pentatonic (five-note) scale and filler phrases within the lyrics. And while both these styles are in fact lyrically versatile, the public has generally characterized them as being filled with sadness.
Perhaps the greatest similarity, though, is that both styles are arguably the only types of music within their respective nations that have been indigenously developed by immigrants. The recently deceased New York City-based choreographer Eleo Pomare, who gained fame in the 1960s, argued that black American music is the only American music – apart from that of the Native Americans – that was not simply carried over from their ancestors’ cultures. Ethnomusicologists have stressed the improvisational nature, melodic progressions, and distinctive singing styles of particular Hengchun Folk masters that have overtly borrowed from aborigine styles. Songs such as Chau Loo Tiao (走路Ω’, “Escape”) and several traditional and original tunes by 83-year-old Hengchun Folk master Chu Ting-shun (朱丁順) are good examples.
The Taiwan moon guitar, perhaps the signature instrument of Hengchun Folk and also used in nanguan (南管) and gezaixi (歌仔戲or Taiwanese opera), is instantly recognizable by its small size, round wholly wooden body, two strings that can be tuned in a number of ways, and short neck. Dubbed a “beggar’s instrument,” it has gained a reputation as particularly well-suited to melancholic songs due to the nature of its sound. The instrument is also uniquely different from the vast array of moon guitars found in China, Korea, and Southeast Asia, as nearly all of them have three or four strings. The teeth on the Taiwan moon guitar’s frets are shorter than on most Asian stringed instruments, giving the strings a slackness that allows for easy vibratos and bending – up to and even past a half-step above the note.
Taiwan moon guitars also have fewer frets than many other Chinese and Western instruments, the equivalent of removing most of the black keys on a piano. As Hengchun Folk generally follows a pentatonic scale, this makes it possible to slide in between notes, providing a certain fluidity by skipping tones that fall outside the scale. When played correctly, the movements of Hengchun Folk on a moon guitar are comparable to that of a taichi practitioner.
Taiwan moon guitars may appear simple, but aficionados play these instruments in several different ways. These generally fall under one of two classifications: “single-string” and strumming. An example of the former is for the musician to use his or her thumbnail to pick in a lightning-fast manner that ignores all beats, while the other hand slides across the strings. This style, reminiscent of that of Chen Ta (陳達), the late figurehead of Heng-chun Folk, is no longer as widespread as it was in the sixties and seventies, perhaps due to its difficulty and greater reliance on improvisation.
Like a galloping horse
Strumming requires picks with high resilience. Currently, the most popular strumming method is the phau-be (跑馬, literally “running horse”), so called because the 1-2-3 / 1-2-3 rhythm imitates a horse running across a field. This is currently the hallmark of the style of the previously mentioned Chu Ting-shun, otherwise known as Grandpa Chu (朱阿公), the oldest and for many the greatest living Hengchun Folk master.
The moon guitarist may be accompanied by a singer, although several serious Hengchun folk musicians claim that to qualify as genuine Hengchun folk, the singing must be done by the moon guitarist, often making up the lyrics as he or she goes along. The subject matter is open, ranging from holidays such as the Lantern Festival to blessing a newlywed couple to the current news of the town. With Grandpa Chu and many others, however, the lyrics are usually confined to two subjects – the beauty of nature and the hardships of life. Indeed, the greatest Hengchun folk musicians were often illiterate and would play their music as a means of consolation for their life of poverty and hard work as a farmhand.
The recent success of the Taiwanese film Cape No. 7 (海角七號) has given Hengchun Folk some recognition, particularly through the character Uncle Mao, who is meant to be a Hengchun Folk master. Not surprisingly, the film has been criticized by Taiwan Folk musicians as portraying the Taiwan south through the eyes of Taipei. Whether or not that is the case, it is true that someone wishing to listen to a Hengchun Folk master could do much better than listening to Uncle Mao. Ethnomusicologist Hsu Chang-hui’s 1960s and early 1970s recordings of the beggar-musician Chen Ta can give one an excellent idea of what a master of this style of music sounds like, as well as his other recordings of anonymous musicians.
Chen Ta, otherwise known as Ang-bak Ta-la (紅目達仔, “the red-eyed Chen Ta”) due to a disease that left him blind in one eye, has become for many a national symbol of Taiwan, characterized by his sad voice and hard lifestyle as a wandering beggar. When he was “discovered,” he was already elderly and most of his teeth had fallen out due to chewing betel nut. Chen Ta lived off the handouts of money, food, and wine from the Hengchun locals, and remained in poverty even after his propulsion to fame by playing on TV and other venues. In fact, during his short span of recognition during his twilight years, his mind deteriorated and his style grew sloppy. Fortunately, Hsu Chang-hui had recorded several Chen Ta performances before this happened. In 1981, Chen Ta felt he could not stand Taipei any longer and returned to Hengchun, where he was hit by a bus and died.
Despite a sad life even during his allocated 15-minutes of fame, Chen Ta’s passion for Hengchun Folk was felt by many and was repaid through posthumous recognition as the greatest of native Taiwan musicians. It was Chen Ta who popularized the Hengchun melody Su-siang-khi (思想起, “I Remember”), which even casual listeners are familiar with. In terms of both mastery and faithfulness to the style, the original sixties recordings of Chen Ta performing Su-siang-khi are preferable to later versions. But the twist of Greater Chinese nationalism in later performances helped the melody gain such popularity that the Cloud Gate troupe’s Lin Hwai-min (林懷民) used a late recording for his 1978 dance “The Legacy.”
Original recordings of Chen Ta’s performances in the late sixties so far can only be found on vinyl and tape. But renowned Taiwan music icon Chen Ming-chang (陳明章), has digitally remastered these recordings on several compact discs. These recordings are scheduled to be released very soon under his label Chen Ming Chang Music. He believes that since even Taiwanese people have very little idea about Hengchun Folk, releasing the original Hsu Chang-hui recordings can give people here and abroad a sense of what this music should sound like. In 2007, Chen Ming Chang Music released an album by Chu Ting-shun, entitled If You Want to Hear Folk Songs, Come to My Place (卜聽民謠®”阮兜), which is still available in record stores.
The Art of Grandpa Chu
For at least a decade now, Grandpa Chu has been considered Heng-chun Folk’s greatest living master. Ethnomusicologist Wu Rong-shun (吳榮順) published his performances in the 2000 album Fulao Folksongs (山城走唱), released by Wind Records, and called him Hengchun Folk’s tanchang gaoshou (彈唱高手, the master of playing and singing together). In 2007, Chu came to Taipei to teach classes at the Taipei Arts Village on BeiPing Road, and on June 21 last year he came to Banciao to accept the Lifetime Achievement Award at the 19th Golden Melody Awards ceremony.
For most of his life, Grandpa Chu probably had never imagined that he would receive so much respect for his musical mastery. Born to a poor family, he had to give up the chance to attend school to work as a hired hand on a farm. To this day, he remains illiterate and monolingual in Taiwanese, yet his songs telling of the hardships he had to endure throughout his life, coupled with the comfort he takes in his natural surroundings, show that he is one of those individuals who possess a library of wisdom. “Every day I work from sunrise to sunset / Working as a hired hand is really just miserable,” he sings in one his verses. “Missed meals have left me famished / Sitting there and looking at the resting egrets in the fields.”
He plays the melancholic erhu and sings in freestyle rhythm in a recorded rendition of the melody Gu-boe phoa (牛尾絆, “Oxtail Swing”), where he laments at having to marry a girl he does not love but must show filial piety to his parents who introduced the girl to him. Using another traditional Hengchun Folk tune, he sings of leading the working oxen to graze, comparing himself to the calf who cries because it is alone. And of course, he plays the popular Su-siang-khi with a phau-be rhythm, singing the verses in a cappella freestyle reminiscent of the plains aborigines who once inhabited practically all the land surrounding the old towns. Anyone truly interested in the beauty of Hengchun Folk should search out a performance from this octogenarian master, who at the time of writing remains as healthy as an ox.
Every summer, Hengchun Town holds the Hengchun Folk Competition, which draws participants from across the peninsula. At last year’s competition, held on August 21 and 22, scores of students who had studied under Grandpa Chu played renditions of Su-siang-khi, while the adult attendees – many of them amateurs but also including a few real pros – played a variety of Hengchun Folk tunes. Both Grandpa Chu and 75-year-old Heng-chun Folk master Grandma Chen Ying (陳阿嬤), attended both days, and on the second day Chu joined Chen Ming-chang in giving a free outdoor concert that also featured 58-year-old aborigine music icon Kimbo (德).
One younger noteworthy performer in August was Hengchun native Yang Meiyun (楊美雲), who learned the musical tradition from her mother and furthered her study of it at Hengchun Community College. Her moon guitar playing style follows the standard phau-be rhythm, yet she sings in a brassy feminine alto reminiscent of early- to mid-twentieth century popular Western songs. She keeps a blog on Taiwan’s Yahoo (http://tw.myblog.yahoo.com/yang2006-1215), where she goes by the name of “Black Cat (黑貓).” The blog contains links to videos of her playing and singing Hengchun Folk.
Other performers at the Competition showed eclectic styles as well. The Daguang Band (大光團對), named after Chen Ta’s neighborhood in Hengchun, showcased performances that combined Taiwanese opera, Hakka opera, and aborigine music, complete with characters in costume, background stories, and a variety of instruments, including the Hengchun moon guitar.
The next annual Hengchun Folk Competition will be held this summer. Anyone who wishes can participate, but it is advisable to start practicing now, as it is possible that Hengchun Folk’s recent popularity will push a number of people to take up this style. The Su-Siang-Khi Advancement for Hengchun Folk 屏東縣恆春鎮思想起民謠促進會, based in Hengchun, arranges the competition. Contact Manager Ms. Li Zhengji 李正姬 for details at Tel: (08) 889-2253 or Fax: (08) 888-0575.
The ideal way to get a taste of Hengchun Folk is to go down to Hengchun and arrange a visit to Grandpa Chu. The town is a fantastic getaway as well, with great seafood and atmosphere. For those living in Taipei, however, it is also possible to catch Chen Ming-chang playing at one of his occasional performances, such as a recent concert at the Hot Springs Museum in Beitou. Having studied the styles of both Chu Ting-shun and Chen Ta, Chen Ming-chang performs with a mastery that uses the old picking techniques coupled with the added sense of making the music accessible to contemporary audiences.
Currently, Chen teaches Heng-chun Folk every Thursday and leads the Hengchun Folk Advancement Band, which marched in a parade on November 2 wearing matching T-shirts and playing moon guitars in front of microphones. He also performs every other month at the Witchhouse (女巫店, Tel: 2362-5494) near National Taiwan University. To be sure to catch his Hengchun Folk performance, however, it is advisable to call his wife and assistant Ah-Ying at 0939-303-952 for information in Mandarin or Taiwanese or this writer (his student) at 0987-959-974 for English.
This article comes from: http://www.amcham.com.tw/content/view/2673/421/