I have a band in Beijing, Woodie Alan. The moniker is a joke, reflecting my name and that of my Chinese partner, Woodie Wu, but the group is not. In fact, much to my surprise, I am fronting a pretty happening little band.
I never could have pulled this off back home. I owe my success as a gigging musician, however far it goes, to being an expat. Moving here and re-establishing my identity has allowed me to redefine myself, casting off old insecurities and pursuing a reality I always envisioned but didn't quite know how to achieve. In this, I am not alone.
Many people find that expat life allows them to liberate themselves from the accumulated reputation and history that can come to define you. Everyone plays an established role with his or her families and old friends, and moving somewhere new gives you an opportunity to reboot. Expats may also be more willing to give something new a try; after all if you've traded Milwaukee for Beijing, why not try your hand at fronting a band, or running a bar, or riding a motorcycle?
Woodie Alan plays regularly at The Stone Boat, inside Ritan Park, within one of the city's Embassy districts. The little bar is actually a stone boat and sits on a lake with a small stage extending over the water and tables spread along the banks, a surprisingly serene, pastoral setting right in the middle of downtown Beijing.
American expat Jonathan Ansfield and his wife run the Stone Boat. Jonathan is a journalist and blogger, contributing to Newsweek and other publications and Web sites. Now he is also a bar proprietor and a small-scale Beijing music impresario, booking performers for free shows three nights a week during the warmer months.
'It's an out of body experience -- certainly nothing I ever did or would have done had I stayed in America,' he says. 'I've always loved music and spent a lot of time going to clubs and seeing bands in college, but I can't see how I ever would have ended up booking bands had I stayed in the U.S. But I've been into the Beijing music scene since I got here [over 10 years ago] so it's something I really enjoy.'
It's manifestly easier to realize some goals here than it would be in the U.S. American Jonathan Anderson, now an analyst for the investment bank UBS, fronted blues bands in Moscow in the early '90s and in Beijing at the end of that decade. In this city he co-founded the Rhythm Dogs with some of the city's finest musicians, including key members of the Cui Jian Band, China's first significant rockers.
'I'm a mediocre harmonica player and a worse guitarist but I had my pick of incredible musicians,' says Mr. Anderson. 'With some vision, drive and hard work, anything was possible. It was like living out a fantasy. The quality of the guys I played with was head and shoulders above what I could have rated at home. It was like walking in and gigging with Led Zeppelin and that just doesn't happen in a more developed market.'
Kaiser Kuo has a similar story. He moved to Beijing in 1988, formed the hard rock band Tang Dynasty in 1989, put out an album in 1990 and was touring all over the country by 1991. After returning to the University of Arizona to pursue a doctorate in East Asian Studies, Mr. Kuo found himself daydreaming about Chinese rock stardom and eventually quit school to return to Beijing. He rejoined Tang Dynasty and was soon performing in 35,000-seat stadiums. Now overseeing digital strategy for Ogilvy and Mather's Beijing office, Mr. Kuo still performs regularly with his band Chunqiu.
'I can sit in a guitar store in the U.S. and hear 10 guys who smoke me in just an hour but here I am,' says Mr. Kuo. 'For me, this could only have happened in China.'
My story fits the same pattern. I met Woodie when he repaired a guitar for me. He heard I was a longtime editor for Guitar World magazine and became very interested in chatting, which quickly led to jamming together; the same news would have induced a shrug from a good guitar repairman back in the states. Saxophonist Dave Loevinger, who is the U.S. Treasury Department representative in Beijing, played for years with the great Washington, D.C., party band Jimi Smooth and Hittime. Had we met at home, it's unlikely he would have been interested in forming a band, but newly relocated to Beijing, he was excited to find a musical outlet.
When a nearby restaurant asked me to host an open mic, the three of us got together, with an initial repertoire consisting of whatever I could sing without cringing. We've come a long way since then, thanks largely to my growing confidence -- the other guys were already good. We have a unique sound, with most of the solos coming from Dave's soulful sax and Woodie's mournful lap steel guitar, an unusual instrument which figures prominently in American country and blues music. I have always loved slide guitar, but it never occurred to me that my first chance to play with a great lap steel player would come in Beijing, with an amiable Chinese guy bearing a tattoo of Stevie Ray Vaughan, one of my favorite blues guitarists.
We played with a couple of different bassists and drummers before settling on the young, easygoing Chinese pros who play with Woodie in another band as well. Since adding them, we've become more and more of a real band. In two weeks we are headlining one of Beijing's top rock clubs, and we're talking to an agent about booking some out-of-town festivals.
Pretty soon, we may even live up to the bragging motto I made up for our posters and Web site: 'Beijing's premier blues and jam band.'
Though it feels like the most natural thing in the world, our mix of Chinese and expat musicians is unusual; most bands around here feature one or the other. In fact, Woodie used to play regularly with most of the current members of a popular band, but when they formed this group they made it clear that they felt they could get better gigs if they had no Chinese members.
It's their loss; not only are they missing out on a great guitarist but also on moments of unforced cultural exchange that can be hard to come by. I have gained a new understanding of the lyrics of songs I've sung for years by explaining their meaning to my band mates, two of whom speak no English. And one of the unanticipated benefits of the band has been an opportunity to get a little deeper into local life, sharing meals, beers and downtime with my new Chinese friends and their wives, girlfriends, cousins and buddies.
Dave wants us to change our name and it's true that the humor doesn't really translate to a Chinese audience, but they view it as a straight-forward description: the Woodie and Alan band. It is also a reminder of our humble beginnings. Something can be funny without being a joke, and this band will never reach the point where I don't see the humor in it.
我在北京組建了一支樂隊，名為Woodie Alan。這個名字是個玩笑（譯者注：Woodie Alan與美國知名電影導演伍迪•艾倫(Woody Allen)發音相同。），是我跟我的中國搭檔Woodie Wu的名字組合，但我們的樂隊可不是玩笑。事實上，我所領銜的是一支很不錯的即興小樂隊，這一點連我自己也感到驚訝。
Woodie Alan樂隊成員要是在美國，我絕不可能做到這一點。我將自己能成為一名樂手──不管能做到什么地步──歸功于背井離鄉。移居此地、重新建立自己身份的過程讓我重新認識了自己，擺脫了以前的不安全感，追求我一直想像但并不知道該如何實現的生活。在這點上，并非只有我一個人是如此。
許多人發現海外生活能夠把自己從原先的名聲和過往中解脫出來，那些東西可能會束縛你。每個人在自己的家庭和老朋友中間都扮演著固定的角色，而移居新地可以讓你有機會過新的生活。移居外國的人也會更愿意嘗試新事物；畢竟如果你都從密爾沃基搬到了北京，那干嘛不試試去當個樂隊領唱，或是開間酒吧，抑或騎騎摩托車？
Woodie Alan樂隊定期在北京使館區日壇公園內的“石舫”酒吧(The Stone Boat)演出。這個小酒吧其實就是一條石舫，位于湖中，小小的舞臺伸展到水面上，桌子則散布在岸邊。地處北京市區中心地帶，這里卻是一幅難得的幽靜田園風光。
經營石舫酒吧的是來自美國的喬納森•安斯菲爾德(Jonathan Ansfield )和他的妻子。喬納森是新聞記者和博客作者，為《新聞周刊》(Newsweek)及其他出版物和網站撰稿。現在他又經營酒吧，同時還是一位小型音樂制作人。天氣暖和的時候，他每周預約表演者進行三個晚上的免費演出。
“這真是意想不到的經歷──在美國，我從來沒有也絕對不會做這樣的事，”喬納森說。“我一直愛好音樂，大學時經常去酒吧、看樂隊表演，但如果我留在美國，絕不會有自己去預約樂隊的一天。可自從我（十多年前）來到這里，我就進入了北京的音樂圈，我真的很開心。”
在這里顯然比在美國更容易實現某些目標。美國人喬納森•安德森(Jonathan Anderson)現在是瑞士銀行(UBS)的分析師，上世紀90年代早期和晚期他分別在莫斯科和北京擔任樂隊領唱。在北京，他與幾位才華出眾的音樂人共同組建了“節奏之犬”(Rhythm Dogs)樂隊，其中包括中國首批出色的搖滾樂手──崔健樂隊中的主力成員。
“我只是個馬馬虎虎的口琴演奏者和不怎么樣的吉他手，但我挑選出了一群令人贊嘆的音樂人，”安德森說。“只要有眼力、有干勁并付出努力，就沒有不可能的事。這一切就好像夢想成真。我的這些搭檔，他們的演奏水平遠遠超出我在美國時的想像。簡直就像輕輕松松地與齊柏林飛艇(Led Zeppelin)一起演奏，這即便是在音樂發展更為成熟的地方，也不是件容易的事。”
郭怡廣也有類似的經歷。他1988年來到北京，次年參與成立了“唐朝”樂隊，并于1990年發行了專輯，之后到1991年期間都在全國巡回演出。當郭怡廣回到亞利桑那大學(University of Arizona)攻讀東亞研究專業的博士學位后，他感到自己仍然朝思暮想著中國的搖滾樂同伴們，于是退學回到北京重新加入唐朝，不久后他就和樂隊在一座能容納3.5萬名觀眾的大型體育場登臺演出了。郭怡廣現擔任奧美集團(Ogilvy and Mather)駐北京的數字戰略總監，并且現在仍然定期參加他組建的“春秋”樂隊演出。
郭怡廣稱：“在美國一個吉他店里，一小時內能聽到10個人提起我的名字，但我還是回到了中國；只有在中國才能成就我的今天。”
我的經歷也很相似。我與Woodie是在他為我修理吉他時相識的。他聽說我是《吉他世界》(Guitar World)的資深編輯，于是就饒有興趣地與我攀談起來，而且我倆很快就打成了一片。而如果在美國，一位好的吉他修理師在知道我是誰后恐怕只會聳聳肩。美國財政部駐華代表洛文杰(Dave Loevinger)是位薩克斯演奏家，他是華盛頓特區的著名老牌樂隊Jimi Smooth & Hittime的元老。假設我倆是在美國相識，他是不大可能有意和我組建一支樂隊的，但由于他最近剛被派駐到了北京，他很高興能找到音樂上的知音。
后來附近一家餐館邀請我主持一次歌會，我們三人就一起在這次“處女秀”中大大方方地唱了所有會唱的歌。在此之后我們取得了很大的進步，這主要是因為我的信心越來越足，而其他人本身就非常優秀。我們為觀眾營造了獨一無二的音樂氛圍，獨奏部分主要由洛文杰深情款款的薩克斯和Woodie委婉憂傷的鋼棒吉他演奏組成。鋼棒吉他是一種非同尋常的樂器，在美國鄉村樂和藍調音樂中的地位舉足輕重。滑音吉他一直是我的最愛，不過我從未想過自己與一位偉大鋼棒吉他演奏家的首次合作竟然是在北京，同臺的還有一位和藹可親的中國小伙子，他身上紋著史提夫•瑞旺(Stevie Ray Vaughan)的刺青，而瑞旺正是我最喜歡的一位藍調吉他演奏家。
我們先后與好幾位貝斯手和鼓手搭檔過，最后定下來的是兩位隨和的中國專業樂手，他們還與Woodie合作為其他一些樂隊演奏。隨著新成員的加入，我們越來越像一支真正的樂隊了。兩周后，我們將在北京最火的一家搖滾俱樂部里擔綱主演，而且現在我們正同一家經紀公司預約有關參加外地音樂節演出的事宜。
不久之后，我們可能真的能實現我在海報和網站上放出的豪言壯語：“北京優秀的布魯斯樂隊”。
雖然看似水到渠成，但像我們這樣由中國人和老外“混搭”的樂隊卻不多見。我們周圍絕大多數樂隊要么是清一色國人，要么是百分之百老外。實際上Woodie過去曾和某支流行樂隊的多數成員有過定期合作，但當后者成立這支樂隊時，他們明確表示如果沒有中國人在內樂隊會磨合得更好。
對那些人來說這絕對是個損失，他們不但錯過了一位優秀的吉他手，也與那種純粹自然狀態下的文化交流失之交臂，而這種機會實在是可遇不可求。以一首我之前已經哼唱多年的抒情歌曲為例，在我向隊友們解釋這首歌曲的意思時，我對歌詞又有了新的領悟。組建這支樂隊還有一個原來意想不到的好處，那就是我們可以更深入地了解中國人的生活，我與這些新朋友，還有他們的妻子、女友及朋友兄弟們一起吃飯喝酒，共享快樂時光。
洛文杰建議我們把樂隊的名字改一改；中國本地聽眾的確是無法真正理解其中的幽默，不過他們覺得“伍迪和艾倫樂隊”相當直白：就是伍迪和艾倫的樂隊唄。這個名字也時刻提醒我們，這支樂隊一開始是多么不起眼。有些東西即使不用玩笑的方式也會讓人覺得開心，而這支樂隊會永遠帶給我快樂。
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