I totally missed the news last December about my favorite Taiwan band Wonfu's reincarnation as Wonfu Jr. (not to mention their appearance at SXSW last month). Inspired by their 2009 visit to the Rock ’n’ Roll Camp for Girls in Portland, Oregon, Wonfu decided to append a "Jr." to their name and make an album geared towards children which I think is pretty cool. They sound as bright and fabulous as ever. And I'm very much looking forward to hearing their new album. Here's the title track, guaranteed to make you hit replay!
"Flying to You, Flying to Me"
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label songs. Show all posts
Soft Film Valentine: Zhuang Xue Fang
Ever since I first laid eyes on Singapore songstress and Hokkien movie queen Zhuang Xue Fang (aka Chong Sit Fong), I was instantly mesmerized by her pixie charm. My buddy Dev Yang has already written an excellent overview of her career on his much missed blog The Golden Age of Chinese Language Cinema, so let me instead simply offer you a small assortment of treats: a pair of photos that exemplify Miss Zhuang's irresistible allure; a rare clip from one of her films; and a trio of 7-inch EPs. Enjoy!


The film is available on DVD (sans English subtitles) at YesAsia.

sample track:
小小寃家 / "Devil Woman" ((LISTEN))
Original by Marty Robbins (1962)

sample track:
昨夜夢見你 / "Send Someone to Love Me" ((LISTEN))
Original by Steve Lawrence (1962)

sample track:
二十里 / "20 Miles" ((LISTEN))
Original by Chubby Checker (1962)


* * * * *
The following clip shows Zhuang Xue Fang singing her hit song "Making a Mark" (出人頭地) from the self-produced 1962 film Romance at Lung Shan Temple (龍山寺之戀). The film was shot in Taiwan and co-stars Tang Ching and Ling Yun, both of whom would later leave the Taiwan film industry to work for Shaw Brothers in Hong Kong. "Making a Mark" was adapted from the Indonesian song "Ayo Mama" with the lyrics changed to an inspirational (and typically Chinese) appeal to strive hard for success.The film is available on DVD (sans English subtitles) at YesAsia.
* * * * *
Last but not least, here are three 4-song EPs that Zhuang Xue Fang recorded for Ruby Records in (I believe) 1967. You can download the complete collection here.
sample track:
小小寃家 / "Devil Woman" ((LISTEN))
Original by Marty Robbins (1962)

sample track:
昨夜夢見你 / "Send Someone to Love Me" ((LISTEN))
Original by Steve Lawrence (1962)

sample track:
二十里 / "20 Miles" ((LISTEN))
Original by Chubby Checker (1962)
Give Me One More Piece of Cake
Thanks again everybody for the huge outpouring of love and support! It's enough to make me feel all soft and chewy on the inside. Well, as fate would have it, my retro-buddy Dev Yang just posted a truly rare — and tasty — piece of Chinese movie history on his YouTube channel. It inspired me to come back on stage for an encore post. (And remember, good things come to those who click!)
The following clip is from On With the Show (万紫千红, also known as Myriad of Colors), a Chinese film made in Shanghai in 1943 during the period of total Japanese occupation. I talk a lot about lost films on this blog, but it is no exaggeration to say that On With the Show comes from the darkest of Chinese cinema's "lost continents". Those film workers who chose to remain and continue making movies in Shanghai during the occupation era (1941-45) were accused of treason by both the Communists and the Nationalists. Such was the shame and fear of retribution that many of them would never admit — even many years later — of ever taking part. I don't have the time right now to elaborate further, but for those who are interested, let me recommend Poshek Fu's Between Shanghai and Hong Kong: The Politics of Chinese Cinemas, a meticulously researched study that rescues this fascinating period from historical amnesia.
And now, On With the Show. This Hollywood-style musical was directed by Fang Peilin, who rose to fame with the box-office hit Girl in Disguise (1936), a cross-dressing gender-bender that spawned three sequels and can rightly be considered the spiritual ancestor of Hong Kong's He's a Woman, She's a Man (1994). And the leading lady of On With the Show is none other than the magnificent Li Lihua — only 19 years old at the time but already one of Shanghai's top stars.
As an extra treat, I've also transcribed a contemporaneous — and deliciously wry — review of the film written in English by renowned Chinese writer Eileen Chang for The XXth Century, a monthly journal published by the cosmopolitan Klaus Mehnert (and financed by the German Foreign Office) from 1941 to 1945.
Without further ado, here is Li Lihua performing "The Cake Song" with the Takarazuka dancers...
The Eileen Chang review is courtesy of the Hamilton Library, University of Hawaii at Manoa, which has generously scanned and made available on their website PDFs of the entire run of The XXth Century. Fans of Eileen Chang will want to root around the site for her other English-language essays and film reviews. A great big thanks to the Hamilton Library! Open access = cultural preservation.
The following clip is from On With the Show (万紫千红, also known as Myriad of Colors), a Chinese film made in Shanghai in 1943 during the period of total Japanese occupation. I talk a lot about lost films on this blog, but it is no exaggeration to say that On With the Show comes from the darkest of Chinese cinema's "lost continents". Those film workers who chose to remain and continue making movies in Shanghai during the occupation era (1941-45) were accused of treason by both the Communists and the Nationalists. Such was the shame and fear of retribution that many of them would never admit — even many years later — of ever taking part. I don't have the time right now to elaborate further, but for those who are interested, let me recommend Poshek Fu's Between Shanghai and Hong Kong: The Politics of Chinese Cinemas, a meticulously researched study that rescues this fascinating period from historical amnesia.
And now, On With the Show. This Hollywood-style musical was directed by Fang Peilin, who rose to fame with the box-office hit Girl in Disguise (1936), a cross-dressing gender-bender that spawned three sequels and can rightly be considered the spiritual ancestor of Hong Kong's He's a Woman, She's a Man (1994). And the leading lady of On With the Show is none other than the magnificent Li Lihua — only 19 years old at the time but already one of Shanghai's top stars.
As an extra treat, I've also transcribed a contemporaneous — and deliciously wry — review of the film written in English by renowned Chinese writer Eileen Chang for The XXth Century, a monthly journal published by the cosmopolitan Klaus Mehnert (and financed by the German Foreign Office) from 1941 to 1945.
Without further ado, here is Li Lihua performing "The Cake Song" with the Takarazuka dancers...
ON THE SCREEN
On With the Show. In the leading parts: Li Li-hwa, Yen Djuen, and Wang Tan-feng.
Much of the box-office appeal of On With the Show depends on its promises of sophisticated sensuality; yet the film is curiously naïve. Li Li-hwa (her photograph appeared in Vol. IV, p. 141, of this magazine) takes the part of a beautiful and oratorical waitress in a restaurant picturesquely old-fashioned in the European style. Making her first appearance on a cart loaded with hay and farm produce, Li Li-hwa sings and recklessly throws apples to street children. With her songs, her charms, and the aid of the Takarazuka dancers, she finally raises enough funds to found an orphanage.
Justifying the entertainment by the worthy cause of charity is one of those usual attempts to assuage the demand for an immediate purpose in art. However, On With the Show fails to please everybody all round. Mosquito papers, by far the most favored reading matter among certain urban sets, have contributors who suspect that they do not like On With the Show because of its moralizing. They cannot help complaining that Li Li-hwa shows her famous legs only once, and then half buried in furs.
In Chinese eyes, the Takarazuka dances are expressive only of the splendor of youth, health and intelligent discipline. To the average Chinese, the fascination of ballet lies chiefly in its difficulty. They also find the traditional Japanese dances hard to understand on the screen without the help of the symphonic colors of costumes and background. But on the other hand the audience laughs heartily at the practical jokes the hero and heroine play on each other — Li Li-hwa fries some bad eggs for her admirer and he sends her an empty cup of ice cream. Also well received are the Chinese Laurel and Hardy who mess about in the restaurant kitchen. On With the Show is a success with the public in spite of its banal situations, its structural weakness, and its apparent clashing of adult and infantile interests. The last-mentioned shortcoming may be disregarded, because modern Chinese of all ages are like children in their fondness for birthday cakes, with or without dancers swirling around one as in the charity performance in On With the Show. The whole picture is modeled on the Hollywood series of Gold Diggers and The Big Broadcast and is meant to "feed the eyes with ice cream and seat the heart in a sofa" [NOTE] — to quote the phrase a Chinese critic once applied to these American extravaganzas.
— Eileen Chang, from The XXth Century, Vol. V, No. 4 (October 1943). Original scan available here.
The Eileen Chang review is courtesy of the Hamilton Library, University of Hawaii at Manoa, which has generously scanned and made available on their website PDFs of the entire run of The XXth Century. Fans of Eileen Chang will want to root around the site for her other English-language essays and film reviews. A great big thanks to the Hamilton Library! Open access = cultural preservation.
That's All Folks — Zai Jian!

From the 1968 Cathay film Song of Our Family (extant but not available on DVD)
It's not without teary eyes that I announce the end of this blog. The past two and a half years have been full of discovery and gratification. But it's time for me to move on to other domains.
I'd like to give a big thanks to all of my friends and readers. Your comments and messages definitely kept me going during my moments of fatigue.
I have several unfinished posts that I'm determined to complete before I totally exit the Web, so keep an eye out for them sometime in the coming months of 2011.
Best wishes to all of you for a fruitful new year — whatever that might be!
Now let me bid adieu with a lilting island tune by Chang Loo from the 1956 film Who Isn't Romantic, directed by the late Wong Tin Lam and starring Soft Film favorita Chung Ching and veteran actor Kenneth Tsang in one of his first roles.
"Hu-La-La-Yi" ((LISTEN))
Hong Kong Fashionistas: The Singers
I couldn't resist these two stylish young ladies, whose photos are currently going for auction on eBay right now.

The first is Lee Bo Ying (李寶瑩), a Cantonese opera singer who made some 40 films between 1954 and 1965. She was dubbed "Little Fong Yim Fun" (小芳艷芬) after renowned "Queen of Cantonese Opera" Fong Yim Fun. This YouTube clip shows Lee singing "Sorrows of the Autumn Boudoir" from her film debut, It's Fun Getting Together (1954).

And this is Fong Tsin Ying (方靜音), who also had a diminutive nickname: "Little Chang Loo" (小張露). Like Chang Loo, Fong was known for her vivacious singing and stage presence. Sadly, her life was cut short in 1959 by a deadly traffic accident. Check out her fabulous version of Georgia Gibb's 1955 hit "Kiss Me Another".

The first is Lee Bo Ying (李寶瑩), a Cantonese opera singer who made some 40 films between 1954 and 1965. She was dubbed "Little Fong Yim Fun" (小芳艷芬) after renowned "Queen of Cantonese Opera" Fong Yim Fun. This YouTube clip shows Lee singing "Sorrows of the Autumn Boudoir" from her film debut, It's Fun Getting Together (1954).

And this is Fong Tsin Ying (方靜音), who also had a diminutive nickname: "Little Chang Loo" (小張露). Like Chang Loo, Fong was known for her vivacious singing and stage presence. Sadly, her life was cut short in 1959 by a deadly traffic accident. Check out her fabulous version of Georgia Gibb's 1955 hit "Kiss Me Another".
Let's Go Lin Dai! Spring Is in the Air (1954)

There is one song inextricably associated with Lin Dai — played so often that you either weep with sympathy or grimace in pain — and that song is Carrie Ku Mei's evergreen hit "Love without End" from the 1961 movie of the same name. Carrie wasn't the only singer who provided the vocals for Lin Dai in her films. Tsin Ting famously sang for Linda in the huang mei opera films Diau Charn (1958) and The Kingdom and the Beauty (1959).
It may come as a surprise then, as it did to me a few years ago, that Lin Dai was herself a singer of great note, if not great skill, and was a popular Pathé recording artist during the 1950s. However, as my buddy Dev Yang has written on his blog The Golden Age of Chinese Language Cinema, although Linda's singing lacks skill and sophistication, there is a genuine sincerity that is quite endearing.
Linda did not sing the songs in her debut film, Singing under the Moon (1953), however, in an odd turn of events, she ended up recording them for Pathé. The albums were a bit hit. In fact, Linda's version of the song "The Hot Blazing Sun" broke record sales set by renowned professional singers such as Yao Lee and Chang Loo.
Keen to continue Linda's success as a songstress, her mentor and lover Yan Jun made sure to include songs in the subsequent films they made together. Her second movie Humiliation for Sale (released in Singapore in 1954 but not in Hong Kong until 1958) included three songs. And her third, Spring Is in the Air (1954), incorporated the plot device of students preparing for a musical. It was a device that would be recycled in her later films, such as Merry-Go-Round (1956), a color extravaganza shot in Japan that includes a whopping ten songs and fantasy musical sequences with the all-girl Shochiku Revue.
While Spring Is in the Air is apparently unavailable (not even on YouTube), we can at least still hum along with the songs from the film, such as this delightful number, "Lovely Springtime". ((LISTEN))
The innocent Lin Dai we hear in this song would eventually lose her voice during her intensive commodification at Shaw Brothers — as they strove to create the ultimate and perfect movie queen.
Call me unsophisticated, but I'll take the thin-voiced Lin Dai of Spring Is in the Air over the ventriloquized Lin Dai of Love without End any day of the week!
* A very special thanks to Gilbert Jong for providing the above image from the movie booklet for Spring Is in the Air. Check out his fabulous collection of Lin Dai photos at his Flickr stream Enjoy Yourself Tonight.
References
- The Age of Shanghainese Pops (2001) by Wong Kee Chee
- "The Legend and the Beauty: Exhibition on Lin Dai" by Tong Kim-hung, Hong Kong Film Archive Newsletter, Issue 50 (November 2009)
Let's Go Lin Dai! Singing under the Moon (1953)

Four months after her suicide on July 17, 1964, Shaw Brothers released Beyond the Great Wall, Lin Dai's final collaboration with director Li Han-hsiang. Production on the film had actually begun as early as 1960 (see the February issue of Southern Screen) and by the end of the year an advertising poster had even appeared on the back of Southern Screen (November), but because of interruptions from other Shaw productions, Beyond the Great Wall took a long time to complete and wasn't publicly shown until November 1964. By that time, Linda was dead and Li had already left Shaw to establish his own film company in Taiwan. It was eleven years earlier that the both of them had made their respective debuts as actress and director with Singing under the Moon (1953).
In 1951 Linda — just 16 years old — was discovered and offered a contract by Yuen Yang-an, co-founder of the progressive film company Great Wall. Unfortunately, she soon found herself in the midst of the political divide afflicting Hong Kong's movie industry. When it became known that Linda's father had been a big player in the recently defeated Nationalist government, she was blacklisted by Great Wall's communist faction. Although she was already estranged from her father (Linda's parents had divorced when she was a child), she was compelled to write a confession denouncing him. Even so, the studio's directors were still afraid to offer her a role in their films. When Linda subsequently refused to renew her contract, the hardliners threatened her with a large debt, citing the money already spent on her wardrobe and publicity photographs. She protested by taking an overdose of sleeping pills. Linda was discovered in time, and ironically her attempted suicide might have helped catapult her to stardom. Her name was splashed all over the papers and magazines, alerting the public and the government to the revolutionary activism breeding in Hong Kong's film studios.
As a result of this incident, nearly a dozen leftist film workers were expelled from the colony in January 1952 and Linda was released from her obligation to the studio, as was fellow Great Wall star Yan Jun, who had recently begun an affair with her.
Yan Jun was determined to make Linda a star, and when he joined the Yung Hwa film company later that year he insisted on bringing her with him. Their first collaboration — and Linda's screen debut — was Singing under the Moon (1953), an adaptation of Shen Congwen's novel Border Town, a tragic coming-of-age story about an orphaned teenage girl and her elderly grandfather. Linda stars as the main character Cui Cui and Yan Jun plays dual roles as the grandfather and the younger of two brothers who both fall in love with her.
Although Yan Jun was ostensibly the director of the film, the novice screenwriter Li Han-hsiang, who had been hired as deputy director, ended up directing the film because Yan was so busy in front of the camera. In this way, Singing under the Moon also became Li's debut. The film proved to be a huge success and launched the career of one of Hong Kong's greatest actresses as well as one of its greatest directors.
Although Singing under the Moon is cited as no longer available by the Hong Kong Film Archive in the notes for their 2009 retrospective (The Legend & The Beauty — The Films of Lin Dai), clips from the film have miraculously shown up on YouTube, affording us a rare glimpse of the humble beginnings of Hong Kong's movie queen. Linda's performance in the scene below shows that her popularity was due not only to her natural charm but also to Chinese audiences' perennial love for the sassy girl-next-door type. Hopefully we will one day be able to see the entire film in a manner befitting its landmark status.
References
- An Age of Idealism: Great Wall & Feng Huang Days (2001) by Hong Kong Film Archive
- The Age of Shanghainese Pops (2001) by Wong Kee Chee
- Biographical Dictionary of Chinese Women: The Twentieth Century (2003) by Lily Xiao Hong Lee
- Li Han-hsiang, Storyteller (2007) by Hong Kong Film Archive
Going Places with HK In The 60s
Soft Film fave Hong Kong In The 60s are generously serving their new EP Places — an intoxicating cocktail to whet the appetite for their upcoming debut album — on the house. That's right. You heard me. It's totally free. Download it here for a limited time only.
Inspired by such diversities as vintage sci-fi surrealist LP and paperback covers and old cassettes of 70s Taiwan pop, Hong Kong In The 60s create amazing sonic landscapes that unfold from the same well of wonder as animated films like Forbidden Planet (1973) and Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984). Check out "Garma", which in less than 3 minutes takes you from funky forest terrain to abysmal inner space and back again. The band also concocts some damn fine pop, as demonstrated by the catchy yet ephemeral "Disintegration".
What are you waiting for?! All aboard for Places...
Inspired by such diversities as vintage sci-fi surrealist LP and paperback covers and old cassettes of 70s Taiwan pop, Hong Kong In The 60s create amazing sonic landscapes that unfold from the same well of wonder as animated films like Forbidden Planet (1973) and Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984). Check out "Garma", which in less than 3 minutes takes you from funky forest terrain to abysmal inner space and back again. The band also concocts some damn fine pop, as demonstrated by the catchy yet ephemeral "Disintegration".
What are you waiting for?! All aboard for Places...
Lam Fung: Young Rock

Teddy boy Mak Kay and rich girl Lam Fung in Young Rock (1959)
In my previous post I highlighted teen idols Connie Chan and Josephine Siao and the rise of the youth film during the late 1960s. The spirit of youth, however, had been simmering in Hong Kong cinema since the late 50s. In 1959, during the Chinese New Year holidays, studio rivals Shaw Brothers and MP&GI went head to head at the box office with a pair of films that were targeted squarely at the younger generation. In fact, both movies incorporated in their titles that watchword I mentioned last time: 青春 / qingchun ("youth").
In one corner was MP&GI's Spring Song (青春兒女 / Qingchun ernu), featuring "Mambo Girl" Grace Chang and "Students' Sweetheart" Jeanette Lin Tsui. In the other was Shaw's Young Rock (青春樂 / Qingchun le), starring Patricia Lam Fung, the "Jewel of Shaw". We are fortunate that Spring Song is available on video, but I'm sorry to report that Young Rock is, as far as I can ascertain, a lost film. It's a shame to think it might never be seen again. Synopses of the film suggest that Young Rock wasn't just a carbon copy of Spring Song. It was evidently somewhat edgier fare than MP&GI's lighthearted tale of personal and romantic rivalry. In the February 1959 issue of Southern Screen, Young Rock was introduced as a film about juvenile delinquency:
"What are the problems of the youth of today? What turns them into teddy-boys and teddy-girls? Shaw's latest production 'The Joy of Youth' answers these questions boldly and unreservedly. It gives a frank and penetrating analysis of the problems of the younger generation."
But while Young Rock included triads, dance hostesses, knife fights, and abductions, it also featured singing, dancing, and hula hooping — which were the main attractions. The film's songs are especially noteworthy because they mark the beginnings of Cantopop, which blended the influences of Mandarin shi dai qu, American and British pop, and Cantonese opera and folk songs into an exciting new sound.
![]() |
| Ad for Lam Fung's song albums |
Sadly, like her early Shaw films, none of Lam Fung's songs are currently available to the public. Lucky for us then that a dear friend of mine recently gifted me with a homemade recording of her second song album, which includes six songs from Young Rock. In this way we can at least get a taste of what the film was like.
Let me relate a few bits of trivia before you listen to the songs below. The lead singer of the first tune is Mak Kay, who plays Lam Fung's dangerous teddy boy attraction. In case you're wondering, in the opening lines he proclaims, "Ngo hai, ngo hai... ngo hai dongfang gei... shhhh... Maaaau Wong", which translates roughly as "I am, I am.... I am both the East... and the King of Cats". "King of Cats" (Mau Wong / 貓王) is the Chinese nickname for Elvis Presley (derived from his early American nickname "The Hillbilly Cat"). The American influence continues in the next song, "Who Doesn't Love Spring?", an adaptation of Debbie Reynold's 1957 hit "Tammy". And then there's "I Love Singing and Dancing", which takes its cue from Deanna Durbin singing "I Love to Whistle" in Mad about Music (1938). By the way, the scene of Deanna and her classmates cycling through the countryside served as a template for similar scenes in Lam Fung's Sweet Girl in Terror (1958) and Connie Chan's The Sweetest Moment (1967).
Without further ado, let's sing and dance with Lam Fung! As you listen to the songs, take a peek at the tantalizing stills from Young Rock in this souvenir booklet which was sold at theaters showing the film.
青春樂 ("Young Rock") with Mak Kay
(play song)
誰不愛春天 ("Who Doesn't Love Spring?")
(play song)
青春偶像 ("Teen Idol")
(play song)
我愛歌舞 ("I Love Singing and Dancing")
(play song)
大家來跳 Cha Cha Cha ("Let's Dance Cha Cha Cha") with Mak Kay
(play song)
應為人類作先鋒 ("To Be Pioneers for Humanity")
(play song)
* Thanks to Muzikland for the identification of the original American songs. For more information about Lam Fung and the birth of Cantopop, see Yung Sai-shing's "The Joy of Youth, Made in Hong Kong: Patricia Lam Fung and Shaws' Cantonese Films" in The Shaw Screen: A Preliminary Study (Hong Kong Film Archive, 2003).

Lam Fung demonstrates the "young rock"
Connie Chan: Precious Youth

As it was elsewhere in the world, "youth" (青春 / qingchun) was the watchword of the times in 1960s Hong Kong, and during that era nobody epitomized the spirit of youth better than Connie Chan and Josephine Siao. In 1966 they starred together in the teen musical Colourful Youth (彩色青春 / Caise qingchun), which broke box office records and helped set the trend for youth movies in Hong Kong cinema. Later that year, Shaw Brothers also jumped on the bandwagon with The Joy of Spring (歡樂青春 / Huanle qingchun). Throughout the remainder of the decade, the near-magical word qingchun was used frequently in film titles and song lyrics, including Connie's 1967 melodrama Waste Not Our Youth (莫負青春 / Mofu qingchun). Although the film is ultimately a cautionary tale for wayward teens, the irrepressible spirit of youth comes across loud and clear in its songs.
及時行樂 ("Happy Together")
(play song)
年青的一代 ("The Young Generation")
(play song)
莫負青春 ("Precious Youth")
(play song)
月下情歌 ("Duet under the Moon")
(play song)
* Back cover of the EP with Chinese lyrics
Let me end this post by sharing one of my favorite scenes from the movie. Here's the setup. Traumatized by an attempted rape, Connie has lost her marbles. Her parents and childhood boyfriend are trying to coax her back to sanity. See what happens when Connie's attacker comes to visit her at the hospital.
Antique Shanghai Pop Music
I'm quite remiss in not pointing this out sooner — since I first discovered it about a month ago — but better late than never. Launched in January this year, Antique Shanghai Pop Music is a wonderful new podcast devoted to the golden age of Mandarin pop, hosted with ardor and wit by the charming Ling. Whether you are a total stranger to these classic songs, an already avid but linguistically impaired fan, or a native-speaking aficionado, you will find Ling a most endearing and knowledgeable guide.
So far he has created five installments, starting with an overview of Shanghai-era shi dai qu (literally, "songs of the times") followed by episodes devoted to pairs of individual singers, such as Zhou Xuan & Yao Li and Li Xianglan & Bai Guang. Ling hopes to complete a dozen installments, after which he plans to enhance the contents of his site with singer and composer profiles and English lyrics for all of the songs featured in his podcasts.
This last feature, which he's already started, is a godsend for folks like me who love shi dai qu but haven't yet attempted the daunting task of learning Mandarin. Thanks to Ling's show I'm finally able to understand the words of some of my favorite songs. And let me tell you, it's like falling in love all over again.
So please check out Antique Shanghai Pop Music. It earns my highest recommendation. You can download the shows directly from Ling's site, as well as Apple's iTunes Store.
* The image above comes Chinese Woman and Modernity: Calendar Posters of the 1910s-1930s.
So far he has created five installments, starting with an overview of Shanghai-era shi dai qu (literally, "songs of the times") followed by episodes devoted to pairs of individual singers, such as Zhou Xuan & Yao Li and Li Xianglan & Bai Guang. Ling hopes to complete a dozen installments, after which he plans to enhance the contents of his site with singer and composer profiles and English lyrics for all of the songs featured in his podcasts.
This last feature, which he's already started, is a godsend for folks like me who love shi dai qu but haven't yet attempted the daunting task of learning Mandarin. Thanks to Ling's show I'm finally able to understand the words of some of my favorite songs. And let me tell you, it's like falling in love all over again.
So please check out Antique Shanghai Pop Music. It earns my highest recommendation. You can download the shows directly from Ling's site, as well as Apple's iTunes Store.
* The image above comes Chinese Woman and Modernity: Calendar Posters of the 1910s-1930s.
Beatrice Fung Oye: Brooklyn Swing Diva
I wish I could tell you more about Chinese American singer Beatrice Fung Oye, but I've only found a few scraps of information, mostly from Billboard and some of the New York gossip columns of the day.I can't confirm when she started to sing professionally, but by June of 1942 Beatrice was performing at Louise's Monte Carlo in New York City. "Fung Oye, Chinese, is a cute, young thing who sings pops in a pleasant enough voice and with vivacity. In her 15th week here, her popularity continues to grow" (Billboard, October 3). Billboard listings indicate that she stayed on at the Monte Carlo through the rest of '42.
The following year she performed for a few months at the Ubangi — where she was "the first non-Negro" to sing at the club (Billboard, February 20) — before moving on to Leon & Eddie's in May. Beatrice was still playing at Leon & Eddie's a year later, although I've found no proof whether she sang there exclusively.
During this time her name popped up occasionally in the New York gossip columns, which were syndicated in newspapers across the country. Walter Winchell mentioned her as "the cute little Chinese girl soliciting funds for China Relief at 57th and 5th" (October 31, 1942), and according to Dorothy Kilgallen, the "chanteuse at Leon & Eddie's is mad about Mexican chili con carne — and what's more, she eats it with chopsticks!" (May 5, 1943).
In 1945 Beatrice got a big break when she was selected as one of the winners of ABC's On Stage Everybody talent contest (The Abilene Reporter-News, April 7). The prize was a role in the Universal musical based on ABC's popular radio show. Here's a photo of her with five of the ten winners. The movie opened in July, and that fall Beatrice toured the country with a vaudeville unit composed of performers from the cast.

Newspaper ad from The Salt Lake Tribune (October 21, 1945)
After her brush with national fame, Beatrice returned to New York City and sang at the China Doll, the East Coast equivalent of San Francisco's Forbidden City. She was evidently still newsworthy enough to appear on the Broadway gossip radar. Columnist Danton Walker revealed this amusing bit of trivia: "When Beatrice Fung Oye, the Brooklyn-born Chinese prima donna, goes to Dodgers games she yells at the umpire in Chinese" (December 1, 1947).

Newspaper ad from The New York Times (April 15, 1947)
In 195152, she hit the road with Tom Ball's China Doll Revue, performing alongside "Chop Suey" veterans Ming & Ling and Florence Hin Lowe. And that's the last trace of Beatrice I can find.
Luckily, I was able to track down a copy of On Stage Everybody, so let's end this post with a rare glimpse of Brooklyn swing diva Beatrice Fung Oye!
Connie Chan Strikes Again

Time to bust out the turntable again. The following soundtrack EP for Connie Chan's 1967 film Lady Black Cat Strikes Again (黑野貓霸海揚威) is pretty typical of the eclectic world of early Cantopop, in which an American country & western hit could be casually transformed into the rousing theme song for a crimefighting Hong Kong heroine. Even the seemingly straightforward adaptation of a Spanish waltz reveals the gender-bending influence of Cantonese opera by having Connie sing as both señorita and señor.
If the cool cover art and jaunty songs catch your fancy, then check out my review of the Lady Black Cat movies, both of which are available on DVD.
黑野貓 ("Ghost Riders in the Sky")
(play song)
西班牙舞曲 ("Spanish Dance")
(play song)
真情假意 ("Wine & Tea")
(play song)
銀海風光 ("A Star is Born")
(play song)
* Back cover of the EP with Chinese lyrics
Soft Film Video Jukebox: Billie Tam
Hong Kong singer Billie Tam (蓓蕾) started off singing traditional ditties and standard shi dai qu but eventually found her success with an image and style more in tune with the times. In 1964 she scored a huge hit with "Enjoy Yourself Tonight", which was subsequently featured in The Joy of Spring (1966). It's one of the "Missing Shaw Films" that I've been dying to see even more so after getting a glimpse of my favorite tomgirl Allyson Chang Yen in the video below.
Next up is a song from the Cathay film Little Matchmaker (1967). The scene shows an annoyed Zhang Yang stuck on the dance floor with an eager Fanny Fan, but the real attraction is the vivacious and foxy Miss Tam, seen here in a rare on-screen appearance.
Next up is a song from the Cathay film Little Matchmaker (1967). The scene shows an annoyed Zhang Yang stuck on the dance floor with an eager Fanny Fan, but the real attraction is the vivacious and foxy Miss Tam, seen here in a rare on-screen appearance.
Smoking Diva: Bai Guang

Bai Guang in A Forgotten Woman (1949)
Let me offer another nicotine-stained post to all of you aficionados out there. My old time buddy Dev Yang "hand-rolled" the following video with choice clips from Miss Bai's classic film A Forgotten Woman (1949) wrapped in a sad song "The Past is Like Smoke" from her silver screen farewell, Love's Sad Ending (1959).
Bai Guang: Light My Fire

If you're not yet familiar with Bai Guang "China's only torch singer" here's a nice introduction that appeared in Malaya's English-language Radio Weekly sometime in '53. (Many thanks to Oldflames for hooking me up with this rare piece.)
And because addicts love company, let me tempt you with a hit of Miss White Light's "Mad Love" before we proceed...
BAI KWONG, TOP STAR
by LAO WEI
THERE is little difference in the style of singing of the dozen or so top vocalists in the Chinese recording industry. Their voices sound very much alike and only a practised ear can tell them apart.
But two artistes do stand out. One is the incomparable Yao Lee whose mellow voice, sympathetic performance and unerring good taste put her in a class all her own. The other is Bai Kwong. China's only "torch singer" and without a doubt her most glamorous film star.
Bai Kwong (White Light) retired from the recording and film business after her marriage to an American airline pilot. She now lives in Japan.*SHE toured Singapore and the Federation two years ago and was enthusiastically received by her fans.
Her films are popular here.
This popularity, however, was not echoed by one section of the Chinese press which, annoyed by her independent ways, commented so unfavourably about her doings that she returned to Hong Kong earlier than she had intended, somewhat embittered.
Bai Kwong is the Chinese film-goer's equivalent of Jane Russell, Marlene Dietrich and Rita Hayworth, all rolled into one. She has a low, throaty voice which she uses to great effect both in conversation and song.*HER discs sell well. Into all of them she transmits her warm, inviting personality.
Her rumbas, tangos and boleros are smooth and sentimental. The titles of her recordings indicate the type of song she specialises in, "Let Us Not Waste Tonight", "Mad Love", "It's Delightful When We Are Together", "I'm a Goddess".
"Let Us Not Waste Tonight" (Pathe 35826), a charming rumba, is coupled with another satisfying piece, "Waiting for My Love".
"Mad Love" is a stirring bolero with an unusually good orchestral accompaniment. On the other side of this disc (Pathe 35841) is a slow, dreamy tango, "Haunting Old Dream".*"IT'S Delightful When We Are Together" and "I'm Awaiting Your Return" (Pathe 35739) are two typical Bai Kwong songs in which she makes full use of that throaty, sexy voice.
Then there is a naughty little tune, "I'm a Goddess", in which the singer tells her admirers that if they want to gain her favour they must approach her on bended knee."
A street walker laments her unhappy fate in a sentimental tango, "Street Lamps on a Cold Night" (Pathe 35852). On the reverse, the tempo shifts to a rousing march, "Mountain of Youth", a call to young people to work hard to reach the summit of the mountain of success.*THIS is rather an unusual type of song for Bai Kwong to sing. But "morale boosting tunes have always been popular with the Chinese, and marches especially so since the establishment of the republic and the growing surge of national pride.
The Communists make effective use of songs and dances in their propaganda by playing on the Chinese people's love for these two mediums of expression.
The way Bai Kwong renders a song, however, would not please the Reds: She gives it too much personality, and such subtle feminine inflections that the listeners' thoughts are very far, indeed, from such things as Communism.
So... Do you suddenly find yourself craving more of the beguiling Miss Bai? ... Don't sweat it, stick around... I've got your fix.
Connie Chan: The Girl with Long Hair

OK, folks! It's time to bring on Hong Kong's beloved ass-kicking, cross-dressing, opera-singing teen idol of the 1960s: the one and only Connie Chan.
Here's the soundtrack EP for Connie's 1967 film The Girl with Long Hair (長髮姑娘), in which she plays a cop assigned to capture the "Filial Thief", a righteous Robin Hood who steals from the rich who treat their parents poorly. The "Filial Thief" is played by opera star Lam Kar-sing.
You'll notice right away that these songs are more traditional than you might expect from the modish EP cover. Drawing on Cantonese opera and folk music rather than Western pop, they are an example of the grassroots influence in the early development of Cantopop.

Lam Kar-sing and Connie Chan, heroes on opposite sides of the law
* Photo comes from the Yau Leung collection 昨夜星光 (1940s-1960s)
雌雄鬥口曲
(play song)
掃蕩羣魔 ["Root out the Demons"]
(play song)
長髮姑娘賊孝子 ["The Girl with Long Hair and the Filial Thief"]
(play song)
Back cover of the EP with Chinese lyrics, plus another picture of Connie as she appears during the scene featuring the first song presented above:
Josephine Siao: Deadlier Than a Man

Here's one final Fong Fong EP for you. This one's from her 1967 film Blood Stains the Iron Fist / 血染鐵魔掌 (aka Deadlier Than a Man). Just click on the link and the song should play automatically in your browser.
Coming up next time: Connie Chan!
沉醉春宵 ("Tonight is a Wonderful Night") (play song)
等待 ("Waiting") (play song)
* Here's the back cover of the EP with Chinese lyrics.
Josephine Siao: The Golden Cat

Here's the soundtrack EP for Josephine Siao's 1967 film The Golden Cat (飛賊金絲貓), another one of her sadly unavailable "Jane Bond" movies. The embedded mp3 players I was using before suddenly stopped working, so just click on the link and the song should play automatically in your browser.
Enjoy!
花嬌不似玉人媚 ("Love Potion No. 9") (play song)
結伴遊春 ("Summer Holiday") (play song)
狂歡舞曲 ("La La La Song") (play song)
* Here's the back cover of the EP with Chinese lyrics
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)


