Zai Xiang Xiang

From 2017 to 2018, Song Dongye released three singles in succession, "Konggang Qu," "Guo Yuanchao," and "Zhidao," lightly leaping beyond the framework of folk music and once again rewriting his position in the Chinese music scene. Completed 13 years after "Anhe Qiao Bei," his second official album, "Zai Xiangxiang," was fully produced by Song Dongye himself, and its contents still go beyond people's imagination. This work astonishes listeners with its thickness as text, its multi-layered sound, and the overwhelming density of information born from them. Its sense of scale is clear from the recording credits as well, with Song Dongye joined by more than 20 types of instruments / sound sources, leading players in the Chinese jazz scene such as Wen Zhiyong, Xia Jia, and Gao Taihang, and Xing Jiangbo, an independent musician as taciturn as a recluse. Song Dongye, who single-handedly handled the lyrics, composition, arrangement, and production, synchronized the deepest life experiences he had accumulated over these 13 years with the renewal of his musical perspective and technical maturity, and together with these close allies built a huge and complex aesthetic world. At times, he deliberately shows a slightly cynical, mischievous attitude. It also seems like a gesture to balance his absolute seriousness and love for music. For example, it is the kind of sensibility that would casually use his own cat's backside for the record jacket artwork. His photographic works, too, are filled with a gaze that looks at the surrounding world from a unique distance. The contours of such a person appear clearly in this album. Through all of it: the scream-like "Yu Wo Jiaotan," the contemplative "Konggang Qu," the roaring "Guo Yuanchao," the chant-like "Houji," and the whispering "Zai Xiangxiang." It is as if he has suddenly come to fully understand the "stratagem" that is music. He hides technique within magnificent, orthodox construction, and depicts cruelty within lightness. Everything is obsessively meticulous, yet at the same time surprisingly free. Even the exaggerated sense of division and theatricality seen in "Bu Mosheng De Ren," and the mischievous collage and placement in "Bie (Outro)," do not feel absurd. Furthermore, he has a talent and voice as a melody maker that anyone would envy. While singing one impressive phrase after another and letting philosophical thoughts that may seem absurd swim freely, he transforms vague and dense clusters of images into "riddles" through beautiful melodies. The symbols and metaphors scattered throughout ask listeners themselves to interpret them and search for their meanings. And when he shifts from lyricism to narrative, especially in "Houji," he goes beyond the constraints of the form called lyrics and steps almost into the realm of poetry itself. The narration, freed from meter, bursts like sparks within the swaying fluid of jazz, and what makes it work is undoubtedly his own voice. Images of "voyage" appear in many of the songs on this work. The light on the water in the new version of "Konggang Qu" reflects a kind of clear stillness, as if "a good boat" from "Xiexie Ni" were anchored there. Perhaps it is a boat that can carry people to an imaginary other shore. At the same time, however, like the cat at home, it cannot become a certain anchor in life. If the value of "Anhe Qiao Bei" lay in the overflowing talent and impulse of a young person who "forces himself to speak of sorrow in order to obtain new words," then "Zai Xiangxiang," like strong tea or hard liquor, condenses every flavor of life. It is rich, deep, and irresistible, a work that makes you listen again and again, and makes you want to "think once more."

2017年から2018年にかけて、宋冬野は『空港の曲』『郭源潮 (グオ・ユエンチャオ)』『わかった』という3作のシングルを次々と発表し、フォークミュージックの枠組みを軽々と飛び越え、中国音楽シーンにおける自身の立ち位置をあらためて塗り替えた。そして『安和橋北』から13年を経て完成した2作目の正式アルバム『再想想』は、本人自らが全面的にプロデュースを手掛け、その内容はなお人々の想像を超えている。本作は、テキストとしての厚み、サウンドの多層性、そしてそこから生まれる圧倒的な情報密度によって、聴き手を驚愕させる。そのスケール感はレコーディング・クレジットからも明らかであり、宋冬野と並んで、20種類を超える楽器/音源、さらに文智涌、夏佳、高太行ら中国ジャズシーン屈指のプレイヤーたち、そして隠者のように寡黙な独立音楽家・刑江波らが名を連ねている。作詞・作曲・編曲・プロデュースを一手に担った宋冬野は、この13年間で積み重ねた最も深い人生経験を、音楽観の更新や技術的成熟と同期させながら、彼ら盟友たちとともに巨大かつ複雑な美学世界を築き上げた。時に彼は、あえて世を食ったような、悪戯めいた態度を見せる。それは音楽に対する絶対的な真剣さと愛情の均衡を取るための身振りのようでもある。たとえば、自宅の猫の尻を何気なくレコード盤面のジャケットに使ってしまうような感覚。そして彼の写真作品もまた、周囲の世界を独特の距離感で見つめる視線に満ちている。そうした一人の人間としての輪郭が、このアルバムにははっきりと現れている。悲鳴のような『僕と話して』、沈思する『空港の曲』、咆哮する『郭源潮(グオ・ユエンチャオ)』、詠唱のような『あとがき』、そして囁きかけるような『再想想』――そのすべてを通して。彼はまるで、音楽という"策略"を突然完全に理解してしまったかのようだ。壮麗で正攻法な構築の中に技巧を隠し、軽やかさの中で残酷さを描き切る。そのすべては執拗なまでに緻密でありながら、同時に驚くほど自由でもある。『見知らぬはずのない人』に見られる誇張された分裂感や演劇性、『別れ (Outro)』における悪戯のようなコラージュと配置ですら、不条理には感じられない。さらに彼には、誰もが羨むようなメロディメーカーとしての才能と声がある。次々と現れる印象的なフレーズを歌い上げ、荒唐無稽にも思える哲学的思索を泳がせながら、曖昧で濃密なイメージ群を、美しい旋律による"謎"へと変換していく。そこに散りばめられた象徴や隠喩は、聴き手自身が解釈し、意味を探り当てることを求めている。そして彼が抒情から物語へと移行したとき、特に『あとがき』では、歌詞という形式の制約を超え、ほとんど詩そのものの領域へ踏み込んでいる。韻律から解放された語りは、揺らぐジャズの流体の中で火花のように炸裂し、それを成立させているのは間違いなく彼自身の声なのだ。"航海"のイメージは本作の多くの楽曲に現れる。新版『空港曲』の水面の光は、一種の澄み切った静けさを映し出し、そこにはまるで「一艘好船」(『ありがとう』)が停泊しているかのようだ。それは想像上の彼岸へと人を運んでくれる船なのかもしれない。しかし同時に、それは家の猫のように、人生の確かな錨にはなり得ない。もし『安和橋北』の価値が、若者が「新しい言葉を得るために無理に憂いを語る」その過剰な才能と衝動にあったのだとすれば、『再想想』はまるで濃茶や烈酒のように、人生のあらゆる味わいを凝縮している。豊穣で、深く、抗いがたく――何度でも聴き返し、そして"もう一度考えたくなる"作品なのである。