Special Correspondent for This Magazine  Wei Xing

“This is an age without faith; everything has become trivialized and vulgarized. No band is willing to make a living by busking on the streets, because, in reality, we all have to eat—but the people at the bottom of society on the streets can’t support them; they can’t provide the nourishment and fertile ground they need.”

I’ve tried to schedule an interview with Professor Luo several times, but plans never seem to keep up with changes. That’s because he no longer has control over his own time:

last year4In [month], he opened a studio on the second floor of the Shenzhen Musical Instrument Mall and began accepting10There are several students who are taking specialized training in the erhu. Since we’re being paid, the training schedule is, of course, tailored to the students’ needs.

11moon8That afternoon, we were chatting for a short while whenever we had a chance, when suddenly he glanced at his watch and said, “Oh no, it’s almost (afternoon)…”4点30”That's it," he said. Then, with his erhu slung over his shoulder and his suitcase in tow, he hurried out the door, braving the wind. Outside, the chilly early-winter breeze of the south playfully ruffled the long, black-and-white strands of hair on his forehead.

Teacher Luo, whose real name is Luo Hongjun, was a member of the former “Yuanshangcao Band,” where he played the erhu.

The Grasslands Band is2009In [year], a band was formed spontaneously by street performers in Shenzhen; it was also the first band with a specific name, a fixed lineup, and regular performances at Shenzhen Civic Center.

The band members include: Chen Jizhao on the flute, Luo Hongjun on the erhu, Li Tao on lead guitar, Wei Yunfei on rhythm guitar and vocals, Wei Wei on bass and vocals, and drummers Xiao Zhibin and Chen Jinfei, among others.

The band consisted of members from different generations, with the oldest being Chen Jizhao, who was already65year-old seniors. Even the youngest ones—Wei Wei, Chen Jinfei, and others—are no older than24Age.

This band had never received formal, academic training; relying solely on their passion and dedication, they elevated their performance to new heights. The band was hugely popular among the public and enjoyed immense fame in Shenzhen. It can be said that the emergence of the Yuanshangcao Band has, to a certain extent, influenced the lifestyle of Shenzhen residents—particularly those from the working class. In fact, “attending Yuanshangcao Band concerts” has become a way of life on par with “hiking and flying kites at Lianhua Mountain Park on weekends” or “reading at the Central Book City.”

That’s also why this band appeared on CCTV. CCTV aired the program in two parts on its documentary channel.

But today, this band—once a spiritual haven for the common people—has long since vanished, leaving behind a series of questions that remain unresolved in this era.

“The Glory of ”Meadow Grass”

The name of the Yuanshangcao Band was chosen by Luo Hongjun, because he was the most educated among them; in the last century,70Back in the day, he attended high school. According to Luo Hongjun, “At the time, we just felt like we were a grassroots band—a band with tremendous vitality. We could survive on just a single drop of dew. Even when faced with difficulties and setbacks, we’d spring back to life like a plant reborn by the spring breeze.”

2009Before the band Nian was formed, Luo Hongjun had already known Li Tao, Wei Yunfei, and others. On the streets and in the alleys of Shenzhen, they each made a living by playing the guitar, the erhu, or singing, earning tips from passersby.

Of course, some of them didn’t start out doing this for a living either; it was just a personal hobby. Take Wei Yunfei, for example: after leaving the military, he worked as a security guard in Shenzhen and played music and sang in his spare time to earn a little pocket money.

"2007Back then, when I was in Longhua, Bao’an, and other places, I often saw Li Tao, Wei Yunfei, and Chen Jizhao playing together on the streets. ”When I was done with my work, I’d go over and join them, but I didn’t take any of their money—I just did it for fun,” Luo Hongjun told the reporter, describing these as their early, sporadic collaborations. After that, everyone wandered around singing here and there; they were apart more often than together and lost touch.

2009That year, Huaqiangbei was elevated to the status of a newly established subdistrict in Futian District. Subsequently, management in Huaqiangbei was tightened, and street vendors—including Luo Hongjun—were evicted by urban management officers. With nowhere else to go, Luo Hongjun, following a suggestion from others, went to Shenzhen Civic Center Plaza. There, he once again encountered Li Tao, Wei Yunfei, and Chen Jizhao.

Because they had worked together before, when Wei Yunfei invited Luo Hongjun to form a band with him, Luo Hongjun readily agreed. Later, as the lineup changed, drummers Xiao Zhibin, Chen Jinfei, and Wei Yunfei’s younger brother, Wei Wei, joined the band one after another.

As soon as this band took the stage at Shenzhen Civic Center Plaza, their professional-level performance—combining wind instruments, stringed instruments, and vocals—quickly “captivated” passersby on the streets of Shenzhen. For some migrant workers who had spent a busy week in factories, watching their performance soothed their weary nerves and lifted the gloom brought on by the realities of their lives.

Before long, the band gained wave after wave of die-hard fans. When they performed in the square, if it suddenly started to rain, the fans would quickly rush to help move their equipment to shelter. Once the rain stopped, they’d help bring everything back out. Some fans even became close friends with the band while helping out with these tasks, and some even ended up dating band members. Take Wei Yunfei, for example: his girlfriend started out as a fan named “Dandan” (Dan Xueyuan), and later, “Dandan” went on to become his wife.

The fans’ loyalty was also evident when, after the band’s instruments were confiscated by urban management officials and loaded onto a truck, the fans joined the band in retrieving them. When the band had trouble transporting their equipment, the fans pooled their money to buy them a used minivan.

Busking allows each member of this band to earn100-200Income that varies from year to year. For these young people, having enough to drink and smoke—and still having dreams—is enough.

Of course, for Luo Hongjun, there were some pressures in life at the time,54He is [age] years old and has two children currently attending college; their living expenses are primarily covered by the money he earns playing the erhu. Therefore, during the day—when he isn’t performing with the band at night—he continues to play the erhu on the streets to earn more tips, in an effort to make up for the shortfall in income from the band.

Chen Jizhao was even older than Luo Hongjun; at that time,65At the age of [age], he wandered the streets playing music—not to make a living, but to search for his daughter, who had run away from home years earlier. He longed for the day when his daughter would hear the sound of his flute and come running to throw herself into his arms, but that hope has remained unfulfilled to this day.

The Yuanshangcao Band is widely recognized. In Shenzhen, it is customary and considered a mark of good taste for ordinary families to take their guests to see the Yuanshangcao Band perform when they have visitors.

However, as its popularity grew, more and more bands and performers began gathering at Shenzhen Civic Center, and urban management officials arrived. At that time, maintaining urban order versus protecting street culture and the arts became the focal point of a standoff between the two sides, sparking widespread media attention and ongoing coverage. This time, both government officials and ordinary citizens began to reflect on the value and significance of street art.

A city cannot consist solely of “high-end” concert halls and grand theaters that ordinary citizens cannot afford; it should also feature street performances and art that cater to the needs of different social classes, because even those at the bottom of society have a need for cultural enrichment.

As a result of this power struggle, the authorities have tacitly accepted and tolerated their existence.

Behind the Glory

During those golden days, the Grass Band’s acoustic performances—which always struck a chord with ordinary people—drew large crowds of city residents who stopped to watch, many of whom were regulars year after year.

However, anyone familiar with this band knows that behind their moving performances lies their background in the working class and their deep understanding of the realities of life in that community. As a result, they are able to seamlessly weave their own experiences and emotions into their music and perform with complete passion.

For example, Wei Yunfei
; the Wei brothers, Wei Wei and his brother, who work as security guards in Shenzhen, leading humble lives; or Chen Jizhao and guitarist Li Tao, who wander from place to place, experiencing all the ups and downs of life; or take Luo Hongjun, for instance, who, to pay for his children’s tuition, spent his early years at street food stalls waiting for customers to request songs—some of whom, after drinking, would act out or even refuse to pay, and he even nearly got beaten up… The performers’ deep empathy for the plight of those at the bottom of society allowed their long-suppressed emotions to be fully unleashed through their street performances.

“A rich array of experiences is the key to a band’s ability to captivate an audience,” Luo Hongjun told a reporter. When he returned home for the Lunar New Year, he deliberately spent money lavishly or acted carefree in front of his children—but in reality, he was merely putting on a brave face. “As a father and a man, I’m actually quite vulnerable inside, and I shed tears when faced with difficulties. ”Striving to succeed really isn’t that easy,” he said.

Before joining the band, Luo Hongjun used to play at street food stalls in Bao'an, Shenzhen. Once, a customer ordered8Let him play the first piece. We had agreed beforehand that for each piece—10yuan; the minimum is per song5yuan, but the other person's friend only gave20yuan. Luo Hongjun was standing by the table, waiting for the person who had requested the song to explain himself, when—fueled by alcohol—the other man’s friend suddenly sprang to his feet and charged toward Luo Hongjun50The old man, who was in his [age]s, was about to be slapped hard across the face. Fortunately, he dodged the blow just in time, but the slap struck his erhu instead, sending its scroll, tuning pegs, and other parts scattering all over the floor…

Luo Hongjun bent down and silently picked it up, a wave of humiliation and anger washing over him all at once. “But what can I do? I’m no match for young people.”

This wasn’t the only time something like this happened. On one occasion, someone even threw his speaker into a stinking ditch. “You know how smelly the ditches in Shenzhen are,” Luo Hongjun said. Later, he found a ladder and climbed down into the ditch to retrieve it. “The mud in the ditch was more than ten centimeters deep—it stank to high heaven.” However, after rinsing it off, the speaker actually still worked! Now, when he talks about this incident, Luo Hongjun actually feels he was “pretty lucky.”

Compared to Luo Hongjun, Chen Jizhao’s experience was even more tragic: when his wife betrayed him, she swindled him out of his money.40She ran off with another man, taking tens of thousands of yuan with her; his daughter ran away from home and has been missing for years; and his adopted daughter fell ill and died on the train while they were searching for his biological daughter... That is why, whenever people hear Chen Jizhao’s flute playing, it always sounds so heart-wrenching—mournful, plaintive, and full of longing and sorrow.

Precisely because of the many harrowing experiences they’ve endured as people from humble backgrounds, their insights into life and the emotions they evoke while performing are naturally and quickly stirred and drawn upon. As Luo Hongjun put it, “The experiences and memories of these past years can be woven into the sound of my instrument, where they find full expression.”

That is why the music of the Yuan Shang Cao Band resonates so deeply with people. These are the little-known stories and experiences behind this legendary band. Of course, as musicians, they did not willingly “endure” or “accept” these difficult experiences for the sake of their music.

“Those were days when idealism ran high, days of friendships and passion more precious than gold, but we can never go back, nor do we want to,”11moon6On that day, Wei Yunfei told a reporter, “This is an age devoid of faith; everything has become trivialized and vulgarized. No band is willing to make a living by busking on the streets, because, realistically, we all have to eat—but the people at the bottom of society on the streets can’t support us; they can’t provide the nourishment and fertile ground we need.”

As the band’s core members were gradually forced to leave by the demands of real-life survival, their departure became their most helpless choice. At that point, phrases like “carrying on the tradition of folk and ethnic classical music” could only be set aside, and disbandment became the final fate of the Yuan Shang Cao Band—that day was2013surname Nian7moon10On that day, Shenzhen was still sweltering in the summer heat, but the band Yuan Shang Cao was withering and fading away in the “bitterly cold” climate of survival.     

Decline and the Current Situation

The band "Yuan Shang Cao" has now disbanded.3It’s been over a year, but some of their former fans still often seek out the band members to pour out their hearts and express their longing for those days. However, due to the paradox of survival, this grassroots band can only let the past live on in their memories—

2011Around the Lunar New Year was once the time when this band was most frequently driven away by a joint effort of urban management and cultural authorities, but thanks to media attention, the efforts and perseverance of the Yuan Shangcao Band finally secured them a foothold at Shenzhen Civic Center Plaza, where they now have a venue of their own to perform.

The performance space they fought for with wit and courage certainly doesn’t belong solely to the band Yuan Shang Cao. The authorities’ tacit approval and tolerance also mean that all of Shenzhen’s independent street performers—represented by the band Yuan Shang Cao—now have a stage on which to perform.

At this time, street performers who make their living this way, as well as music enthusiasts from well-off families, all gathered at Shenzhen Civic Center Plaza to perform. As a result, dozens of performance groups—comprising over a hundred street performers—gathered there; they earned a living, put on shows, and shared in the voluntary tips from citizens.

As a result, no one can make ends meet. For bands that aren’t under financial pressure and play mainly for fun, this isn’t a big deal, but for groups that rely on this for a living, they face severe financial pressure: The Yuan Shang Cao Band used to earn per person per night100-200Their income, which had been in the yuan, plummeted to just a few dozen yuan. During those difficult times, the band’s drummer, Chen Jinfei, even had to go home to get money to make ends meet.

11moon6On that day, Wei Yunfei told reporters frankly that the direct reason for his departure and the band’s breakup was that they were “too poor.”

2013surname Nian5That month, lead singer Wei Wei was the first to leave the band. He no longer wanted to live such a struggling life, so he set off alone for Lijiang, Yunnan—a paradise where the bohemian set and white-collar workers gather and enjoy themselves.

2A few months later, Wei Wei—who felt he was doing quite well in Lijiang—invited his older brother, Wei Yunfei, and his future sister-in-law, “Dandan,” to join him there. The three of them, along with a drummer, formed a band and worked as a house band and singers in Lijiang’s bars, catering specifically to the middle class—including the bohemian set and white-collar workers—and no longer willing to perform on the streets.

Unable to find suitable replacements, the Original Shangcao Band was forced to disband. Chen Jizhao later went to Hong Kong. Some time later, he returned to Shenzhen to meet up with Luo Hongjun. Luo Hongjun said he wanted to treat him to a meal, but in the blink of an eye, he was gone. Later still, Wei Yunfei heard that Chen Jizhao had returned to his hometown in Chongqing after years of fruitless searching for his daughter. Others, such as Chen Jinfei and Li Tao, joined and left various new bands one after another. They performed at commercial events—such as real estate promotions and bar gigs—in cities across the Pearl River Delta, and from then on, they no longer busked on the streets. As for the later drummer, Xiao Zhibin, he withdrew completely from the music industry and faded into obscurity within the scene.

Since then, only Luo Hongjun has continued to perform on the streets and accept tips, though this has continued only until this year.4There have been some new developments this month: He rented a studio in Shenzhen's Musical Instrument City to teach others how to play the erhu, and currently has10Multiple people. “Charges per class”100-200”Yuan.“ Luo Hongjun did not disclose the actual revenue figures to reporters, but he said, ”The market has great potential."

On regular weekdays, Luo Hongjun stays at his studio teaching students to play the piano. Most of these students come from middle-class families; some are stay-at-home moms, while others are children from middle-class families.

However, on weekends, Luo Hongjun still tries to perform at Civic Center Plaza as much as possible, because it serves as a form of advertising and a showcase for his studio when recruiting students—functioning much like a “front shop, back workshop” setup.

Why leave Shenzhen for Lijiang? Wei Yunfei says that Shenzhen is a city with severe economic polarization; for poor people who work hard just to make ends meet, it’s very difficult to get them to spend money, while the wealthy prefer to attend performances at concert halls or grand theaters rather than enjoy street performances. Lijiang, on the other hand, is a hub for the bohemian white-collar crowd. Here, their intentions are clear: to spend money, have fun, and listen to music in bars. So here, “people like Wei Yunfei” can find fertile ground to make a living.

Wei Yunfei didn’t reveal his exact current income either, but he said, “Now that I’m a resident singer at a bar, my income is worlds apart from what it used to be!” He said that now, whenever he arrives at the airport, all it takes is one phone call, and a boss or friend comes to pick him up. Back in his hometown, he’s even built a two-story house for his mother… The spirit of those days is still worth cherishing, but it’s not a past he’s eager to revisit—“Back then, even though we looked really cool on the streets, when we went home, we’d often just eat noodles or munch on steamed buns.”

“It’s only when you’re truly facing difficulties that you can see who’s there to help you,” said Wei Yunfei. Reality forced him, step by step, to face the facts.