2. THE CHINESE MODEL, SEMIOTICS AND THE THREE PATHS

Towards ascertaining the level – and the importance – of Chineseness in today’s Chinese electroacoustic music, I consulted with several scholars, composers and performers via Zoom-based interviews, and considered several music compositions.

Yang Yinuo (杨依诺) is a professor at the Nanjing University of the Arts. In her publication Symbols and Listening: Mixed Language in the First Generation of Chinese Electronic Music Works, she states that Chinese composers of electroacoustic music tended to ‘adopt Chinese elements to establish its distinctive identity’ and references the semiotic theory of Kofi Agawu; in particular, ‘extroversive’ and ‘introversive’ semiotics. Extroversive semiotics as it relates to music are signs and symbols that reference various sounds composers use to imitate extra-musical objects to achieve immediate communication with their audiences. Introversive semiotics refer to formal or narrative structures that generate poetic meaning (Yang Reference Yang2019), or a system of inward-pointing signs and symbols made up of sounds or musical events within the work itself, such as how keys and themes relate to each other in purely musical terms (Taruskin Reference Taruskin2009). Introversive semiotics also signal moments within the piece such as beginning, middle and end, as opposed to extroversive semiotics, which deal with signals external to the piece (Newton Reference Newton, Zatkalik, Medić and Collins2013).

Leigh Landy, director of the Music, Technology and Innovation Research Centre at De Montfort University in Leicester, UK, introduced ‘three types of influences or “paths”’ that serve as sources of Chinese inspiration to today’s composers of electroacoustic music in his paper, ‘The Three Paths: Cultural Retention in Contemporary Chinese Electroacoustic Music’ (Landy Reference Landy and Emmerson2020). These three paths are: 1) sampling; 2) the use of Chinese instruments and/or musical approaches; and 3) inspiration from Chinese culture (e.g., Buddhism, Taoism, poetry, philosophy).

Yang and Landy both offer methods of assessing Chineseness in Chinese electroacoustic music ranging from easy and obvious, to higher levels of abstraction. Landy’s three paths mostly embrace extroversive signs and symbols; whereas Yang’s interpretation also embraces aspects of Agawu’s ‘built-in’ elements related to the use of music technologies and form. Furthermore, Yang assigns the use of technology in electroacoustic music to be structural symbols of a ‘poetic’ nature; for example, the use of looping to express the cycle of life in Tibetan Buddhism, or the use of reverb to represent water, which also plays an important role in Buddhist philosophy as well as Chinese shanshui painting. Both Yang and Landy recognise the importance of Chinese electroacoustic music composers’ intent to illustrate some level of Chineseness in their works if they are to merit some level of aesthetic integrity. Furthermore, Liu and Yang suggest this must be the case if a work is to invoke national characteristics and meet the criteria of the Chinese model; in this case, Chineseness is signified by ‘referentiality’:

In some manner, these authors (and myself) seek to identify and measure the collisions, mash-ups, settings of texts placed side by side, hybridity and the general ‘mixing’ of Chinese and Western elements in Chinese electroacoustic music whether it be through language, arts and cultural practice, or musical DNA; and to measure the obviousness of Chineseness in these works in both simple terms (i.e., ‘What can the audience hear?’) and more academic terms, such as those borrowed from linguistics (extroversive vs introversive semiotics). In the section that follows, I reflect on several recent composers’ works by way of the criteria listed earlier in order to better understand the state of Chinese electroacoustic music today; and in particular, in the context of the proposed ‘Chinese model’.Footnote ²

3. QI ‘MAGGIE’ MENGJIE (亓梦婕)

Qi ‘Maggie’ Mengjie (b. 1989) is a composer and multimedia sound artist, currently working as a lecturer at the China Conservatory of Music in Beijing (commensurate with a tenure track assistant professor in the US system). Previously Qi completed her Masters and PhD, at the Central Conservatory of Music in Beijing, as well as a post-doc with a focus on artificial intelligence and music. Qi’s education exhibits wide breadth, having been mentored by Zhang Xiaofu, one of the most prominent figures in the history of China’s electroacoustic music, and in live electronics and multimedia from Jin Ping (金平), now professor of Composition at the China Conservatory of Music. Qi also studied for two years at the City University of New York, including under Morton Subotnick, a pioneer in the development of electronic music and multimedia performance.

In Qi’s composition Breathing, for cello, electronics and video (2018), it is not clear to the listener that any Chinese elements were employed, as was the case in two of Qi’s earlier works: Echoes for Woodblock from Peking Opera (2010) and Lin Chong Fled at Night (for Peking Opera performer and electroacoustic recording 2015), which featured samples of Chinese percussion and traditional singing (pre-recorded and performed live). These earlier works aligned well with Landy’s paths 1 and 2 (Landy Reference Landy and Emmerson2020), and with the Chinese model (Liu and Yang Reference Liu, Yang and Stevens2022). Breathing uses notated and pre-recorded cello phrases as pre-composition from which she selected audio fragments as source material, and then processed using GRM tools. The visuals in Breathing consist of a minimalist sequence of horizontal and vertical white lines against a black background that are increasingly angular, generating textures, patterns and rectangular blocks.

Qi’s Chineseness in Breathing is represented by her reference to meditation and its connection to Chinese philosophy (path 3). However, Qi’s reference to meditation is also inspired by the Western composer Pauline Oliveros and her method of composing sonic meditations for the purpose of achieving deep listening and expanded consciousness (O’Brien Reference O’Brien2016). Meditation is a primary tenet of Buddhism, employed to ‘see oneself more clearly’ in an effort to achieve enlightenment (Lan and Qiu Reference Lan and Qiu2008); but here Chinese philosophy is intermingled with Qi’s experience studying in New York, where Qi embraced aspects of minimalism from New York’s downtown music scene and other inspirations from Western new music such as Pauline Oliveros’s eccentric sound exercises. In addition, despite the sparseness at the onset, the work has a teleology reminiscent of end-accented formal structures typical of Western classical music, that is, it rises to a climax.

Qi’s Breathing is an East–West cross-cultural collision, though at the onset one would not know that this was the work of a Chinese artist at all. After a discussion with the composer, and from reviewing her programme notes, the intent of Qi’s Chineseness is revealed. This piece embraces the exploitation of space, where Qi uses digital delay to give single notes of the sampled cello ‘more extension, more space, more imagination’.

When gauging the Chineseness in Qi Mengjie’s Breathing, the signs and symbols employed are less representational and more abstract than in her previous works. (Though, once the listener is guided on what to listen for, the connection is less abstract.) In this sense, Yang’s use of introversive semiotics to reference the poetics of technology applies, linking Breathing to Qi’s cultural heritage using poetic (abstract) symbolism: ‘The use of technology as a poetic symbol to express the spirit of traditional Chinese religions is a part that has been seldom noticed in the current Chinese electronic music research’ (Yang Reference Yang2019). That is, if the digital processing (the digital delay that enhances the sensibility of space and meditation) is linked to Chinese religion and philosophy, and if the composer’s intent is to make this link clear, then the connection to the Chinese model is established.

As a student of Maestro Zhang, the need to identify with her Chinese identity and to adhere to the proposed Chinese model through typical timbres and rhythmic patterns was strong. However, now the influence of Western elements, such as the minimalist aesthetic and formal structure, has significant impact in defining Qi as a composer. As does Qi’s gender identification with the pioneering American electronic music composer Pauline Oliveros, which Qi shared during a conversation via Zoom: ‘I do feel more inspired with [Oliveros] being a feminist, and by the lyrics and vocals in her pieces that strongly highlight feminism – it really speaks to me. The deep listening method and phrasing fit well with my current musical preferences.’

4. FU XIAO (付晓)

Fu Xiao (b. 1979) is a multimedia composer born in Zhengzhou, China. She received her Bachelor’s degree in electronic music composition (1997–2001) from the Wuhan Conservatory of Music under Professor Liu Jian (刘健) and credits Wu Yuebei (吴粤北) as her primary mentor.Footnote ³ She then worked as a music journalist and editor at Henan Radio Station where she wrote, edited and produced more than 3,000 radio programmes. In 2022, Fu completed her doctorate (Dr. sc. mus.) at the Hochschule für Musik und Theater in Hamburg.

When I asked Fu whether there were aspects of her work that were obviously Chinese, she stated that sometimes she references a Chinese melody, or uses a Chinese text. This is the case in her work Longing, for flute, percussion, electronics and video (2015), which employs Chinese calligraphy, folk song and a Chinese bamboo flute (dizi). In Longing, the sonic and visual elements portray Fu’s Chineseness very directly; though, interestingly, juxtaposed with Western flute and mixed percussion (both Chinese and Western). Like Qi Mengjie, Fu’s earlier work exhibits more direct communication of Chineseness to the audience, employing clear Chinese signs and symbols reminiscent of extroversive semiotics and consistent with the Chinese model.

However, in her more recent work, Amnesia 2.0, for percussion, dancer and tape (2020), the cross-fertilisation is more pronounced. If it were not for the Chinese percussion, the tape part would not easily be identifiable as particularly Chinese inspired. Amnesia 2.0 is the third of four movements in Fu’s ‘dance theater’ work, Enactment::Interchange, which employs a set of five paigu, a Suzhou white drum, Chinese bass drum and a Tibetan singing bowl. The use of Chinese instruments aligns this work along Landy’s path 2. In her programme notes, Fu cites that meaning in the work is connected to topics related to Buddhism and Taoism, and is derived from ‘old Eastern aesthetics … brought into a new media context’, which aligns with Landy’s path 3, inspiration from Chinese culture. When asked directly if there was something specific and uniquely Chinese about the tape part, Fu corroborated my earlier assessment, ‘I don’t think it is obvious. I’m not really sure if that is true.’ (Although Fu did suggest that the ‘character’ of Amnesia 2.0 might borrow its slow pacing from Chinese culture.)

Fu cites how her musical expression continues to evolve as she matures as a composer, and especially during her time living in Hamburg where, Fu suggests, the great increase in the exchange of people and ideas presented at the Hochschule, and the internet, is the principal cause for this evolution. ‘In Wuhan, I didn’t see anyone from the West or from Europe … I didn’t even know IRCAM.’

Fu Xiao states that Chineseness is inherent in her creative work, and using Chinese elements is as natural to her as eating Chinese food. However, in the context of younger composers such as Dong Zhou (周东), Fu is quick to point out that they are from different generations. Although Fu believes it is ‘important to have Chinese elements, it is not a requirement in my music’, she still believes ‘it is a good way to share the Chinese culture’. For younger composers, this sentiment is not necessarily the same. As a result, Fu believes that Zhou has ‘more open goals’ than she does.

5. ZHOU DONG (周东)

Zhou Dong (b. 1992), born in Shanghai, is the youngest composer referenced in this article. She is the latest in several generations of musicians (going back to her great grandfather) who play traditional Chinese Sizhu Music, though she was trained in piano and violin from a young age.Footnote ⁴ Zhou gained her BA in electroacoustic music composition from the Shanghai Conservatory of Music, and an MA in multimedia composition at the Hamburg Hochschule für Musik und Theater. She cites Dr Georg Hajdu as her mentor.

When I asked Zhou about her Chineseness, she had some strong pushback: ‘My music is not always obviously Chinese. When I talk about the Chinese influence in my music, it is mainly Chinese ideas and traditions, and especially those that are having the greatest impact in society.’ Zhou pointed out that although there is such a long history of Chinese culture and tradition, it too is constantly changing, even in her own lifetime.

Zhou’s composition Jia, for violin, electronics and performance (2017), features herself as an actor and violinist, as well as composer. The title refers to the verb ‘to marry’. Zhou points out that there are two words in Chinese that offer different perspectives based on gender. The word ‘qu’ (娶), ‘to marry’, means for a male to ‘let a girl into your family’. ‘Jia’ (嫁), ‘to marry’, refers to a female to ‘let yourself out of your original family’.

Jia opens with Zhou lying next to a violin shrouded in a red cloth, the same red material covering the violin. She is also wearing a red dress. The initial sounds are percussive: Zhou taps her feet on the ground, rubs the violin strings and taps around the various surfaces until she begins to pluck the strings (the violin and table surface were amplified). With the cloth over her face, she is at first blindly and tactilely getting to know the instrument. The first sounds from the ‘tape’ do not come until about two minutes into the work, including digitally delayed strikes from hitting the violin, and sounds from rubbing the strings, played back slowly. After Zhou removes the red cloth revealing her face, it is the first time she looks upon her arranged ‘partner’, and caresses the instrument before more aggressive percussive taps on and around the instrument. Pre-recorded and undecipherable vocal fragments appear roughly one-third into the work, later transposed and processed along with layers of digitally delayed plucked strings. Halfway through the work, Zhou finally picks up the instrument, cued by a long, pre-recorded bowed open string, and begins to bow the violin herself. She then speaks to the violin in its ‘language’ – ‘Arco!’ ‘Piano!’ ‘Diminuendo!’ ‘Pizzicato!’ and so on – she quite literally is getting to know the violin.

Two-thirds into the work, electroacoustic layers are being added, increasingly distorted. Zhou’s calls to the violin (in Italian) are becoming louder and louder until she tunes the violin in real-time (to an A440, also part of the pre-recorded track). She then plays a recognisable phrase from the Butterfly Lovers Concerto, one of the most famous Chinese works of orchestral music. At the climax of Jia, there is distortion and a sonic build-up of all the materials that have been captured in real time and processed. Zhou, and the violin, have consummated their relationship.

Zhou’s Jia is a social commentary on arranged marriage. Its Chineseness comes from cultural association. Traditionally, on the wedding day in China, the bride wears a red dress and covers her face with a red veil. Historically, most marriages were arranged, and the first time the bride and groom usually meet would be on their wedding day. An additional representation is the quote from the Butterfly Lovers Concerto (which, interestingly, originated as a work for violin and Western orchestra, and was only later arranged as an erhu concerto with Chinese orchestra).

Jia represents the most recent generation of Chinese composers less concerned with representing Chinese culture, instead clearly embodying intermingled traits of East and West – ‘mixed blood’. According to Landy’s paths, it does reference Chinese culture, and quite literally ‘samples’ something recognisably Chinese (in the Butterfly Lovers quote). However, Zhou’s sentiment seems to be less about following a Chinese model with the intent of ‘passing down the legacy of tradition’, and instead offers a critical commentary on that tradition, and does so in a manner that is abstract, representational (such that audiences can easily follow the narrative), and (I would argue) unique to Zhou as an individual rather than representative of her national identity.

6. CHIN TING ‘PATRICK’ CHAN (陳展霆)

Electroacoustic music composer Chin Ting (Patrick) Chan (b. 1986) is currently assistant professor of Music Composition at Ball State University, having earned his DMA from the University of Missouri–Kansas City. He was an born in Guangzhou and raised in Hong Kong. Chan is motivated by forms of expression most often inspired by abstract patterns he discovers in daily objects, imaginary landscapes and human interactions, but depicts his subject matter from unexpected perspectives, allowing listeners to reimagine their surroundings. Chan has been a fellow and guest composer at festivals such as IRCAM’s ManiFeste, the ISCM World Music Days Festival and UNESCO’s International Rostrum of Composers, and has worked with ensembles such as City Chamber Orchestra of Hong Kong, Ensemble Intercontemporain and the Hong Kong New Music Ensemble.

Chan came to the United States from Hong Kong in 2003, when he was 17; therefore, his entire experience of higher education occurred within the United States, and he did not come to grips with his Chinese cultural heritage, let alone Chinese aesthetics in his creative work, until later in life. However, as Chan gets older and he looks deeper into the electroacoustic medium, his cultural heritage is increasingly important.

Chan’s work Rituals offers hyper-pristine audio quality and mastery of register and space. There is a precision in Chan’s music such that no sound appears gratuitous, and reminds one of excellent works of multilayered counterpoint. Rituals uses sound sources that include air, wind chimes, metals, water, piano resonance and various drum patterns. Chan sees the exploration of his Chineseness, and how he is inspired by Chinese aesthetics, to be personal instead of obvious in its representation. He shares that his greatest influence might not be from music but, instead, from philosophy (consistent with Landy’s path 3). Although Chan studied with two of the most highly regarded Chinese composers who migrated from China to the United States, Chen Yi and Zhou Long,Footnote ⁵ he does not consider them to have had a direct influence on the ‘Chinese thinking’ in his music.

When listening to Rituals, one does not hear any obvious representations of Chinese elements. Rather, Chan is interested in less direct communication, such as one might find in Chinese painting, brush ink painting and, in particular, the work of the ‘shanshui’ (山水) painting style. ‘Shanshui painting is not an open window for the viewer’s eye, it is an object for the viewer’s mind. Shanshui painting is more like a vehicle of philosophy’ (Shanshui 2008). Chan’s electroacoustic music is not about realism, but about bringing the arts, and the viewer, to another state of mind, where the viewer can find something personal of their own. He seeks to focus on the Chineseness that resonates with his upbringing, ‘the whole culture is less direct … like how the parents treat their kids, they don’t tell you “I Love You”, they show you.’

When I asked about Chineseness in his music, Chan admits that his aesthetic is not particularly Chinese. Instead, ‘my music is ambiguous, it asks questions, but I don’t like giving answers’. He hopes that his audience will come out of concert halls asking more questions and that his music will provide a platform for listeners to explore more. Music that does not have a complete form; he would rather the listeners say ‘Oh, what did I just hear?’ and have them ‘feel very unfulfilled’.

Chan believes that composers such as those who participated in CCOM’s 2nd International Conference on Contemporary Studies of Chinese Music in a Global Perspective are from a completely different generation, where the dissemination of Chinese cultural aesthetics is paramount. Instead, as Chin Ting states: ‘When I think about form and structure, I seek to compose in such a way that doesn’t sound like there is a beginning and an end.’ In this sense, Chan believes that his music does share a very Chinese aesthetic, very philosophical, like reincarnation: ‘When there is no beginning and no end, you are in a completely different state of mind. When you go to a concert, I have the opportunity to teleport the listener to some other place, a place that exists only in their imagination.’

Chan clearly prefers to avoid extroversive semiotics, and is perhaps better associated with introversive semiotics – but even the notion of signs and symbols that are unique to his individual works are not intended to create a specific formal structure. Like shanshui painting, Chan seeks to blur the edges: ‘Shanshui paintings have no fixed perspective as Western landscape paintings do’ (Shanshui 2008). If anything, Chan’s music is synergistic with Yang’s notion of the poetics associated with the use of music technology as introversive structural symbols.

7. JIN PING (金平)

When asked to comment on Chineseness in Chinese electroacoustic music, Jin Ping, currently professor of Composition at the China Conservatory of Music, stated that, historically, Chinese composers using a ‘pure Western concept’, that is, electroacoustic music that is not influenced by Chinese elements, ‘is quite rare’. There was a feeling that you ‘must’ include some aspect of Chineseness, or one would just do it automatically. However, in doing this, one might end up with music that represents a ‘lack of depth’, or would lack a deeper meaning of what it means to represent Chineseness, or Chinese influence. There is a lot of ‘superficial’ music. A lack of critical, philosophical or ‘deep, very serious thinking’.

For example, Jin believes that only a few composers employ Chinese folk song elements in electroacoustic music (because it is difficult to do well); instead, they tend to use Chinese cultural elements such as a Chinese title, subject, or imagery, in order to enhance the Chineseness of their music. In his works employing real-time electronics, Jin only occasionally deals with purely sonic elements, that is, sounds one would not associate with a particular country or region. Rather, as in his new media theatre work Ferry Tale, he is one of the few composers to directly reference Chinese folk song elements, Chinese stories (or legend) and stage elements that were recognisably Chinese (such as costuming and set design) in order to inject something Chinese into the electronic music. And in his work The Lost Sound, Jin does not attempt to be Chinese at all. He sees this work to be purely Western, including backgrounds, images, references to Western female composers and even adopted Western feminist perspectives.

When I shared with Jin my concept of ‘mixed blood’ in current Chinese electroacoustic music, he was not convinced: ‘Current electroacoustic music in China is not 50 per cent and 50 per cent, it is still quite Western.’ Instead, he believes it is more accurate to describe this music as a Western form or genre that a composer may decide to bring some Chineseness to on purpose, or otherwise might come unconsciously. Jin was similarly questioning my suggestion of ‘aesthetic evolution’ in Chinese electroacoustic music. He suggested that the influence of Zhang Xiaofu still very much remains. He agrees that Chinese composers since Zhang have gradually added something, but believes that electroacoustic music is still ‘really a Western genre, where Chinese composers want to know how to do it, with all of the necessary training techniques, but bring to it their own personal, cultural background’. The concept of Chineseness becomes less and less relevant. Jin referenced Thomas Friedman and the sensibility found within his book The World is Flat, that is, because of globalisation and the internet, the playing field between industrial and emerging market countries is levelling (Friedman Reference Friedman2007). Jin states:

8. SHEN YE (沈葉)

Since 2004, Shen Ye has been professor of composition at the Shanghai Conservatory of Music. Although his musical output consists primarily of acoustic works for Western orchestra, Chinese orchestra, and mixed ensembles of Asian and Western instruments (and very successfully, as can be seen by his 2019 publishing agreement with Breitkopf and Härtel), his work Ondulation for piano solo and electronics (2014) premiered at IRCAM is exceptional in the integration of acoustic and electronic sound sources.

Shen was also not a fan of my phrase ‘mixed blood’, as he stated in a WeChat-based conversation after reading one of the early drafts of this article: ‘cultures and music themselves are constantly influencing each other, as they always have throughout history … but the use of the word “mixed” brings your expression into a complex and unnecessary context of race and ethnicity. Also, I think the term “West–China” or “West–East” is too old-fashioned for today and tomorrow’s musical culture.’ For Shen, ‘mixed race’ connotes ‘cultural isolationism’. Instead, he sees the ultimate goal to be ‘an active artistic identity’ and ‘creative artistic attitude’. He points to his curiosity of different musical cultures, engaging with different cultures and traditions when making music:

Shen’s perspective is refreshing and forward looking, and brilliantly encapsulates what I think is the burgeoning of creative individualism in China, which begins to decrease the importance of Chineseness when considering the aesthetic evolution of Chinese electroacoustic music, or at least suggests how quickly the Chinese model can become outdated in today’s globalised world.