Rock and Roll: Glorious Years

After seeing Pan Jianhu off, Bian Lang finally felt a bit hungry. He opened a food delivery app and looked around, only to find that many of the late-night food stalls in Lucheng were open until after 1 or 2 a.m. So he decided to go and experience the city's vibrant atmosphere himself.

After getting directions from the hotel lobby, the receptionist, seeing how handsome he was, even thoughtfully explained to him how to distinguish which shops overcharged customers and which were affordable. She was practically ready to skip work and take Bian Lang there herself.

After thanking the young lady, I strolled around for 10 minutes and arrived at Dadonghai Night Market.

Good heavens, this whole street of Russian girls and their thick Northeastern accents made Bian Lang wonder if he was in Manzhouli in the far north of China, not at the southernmost tip of the country.

Looking at the food at the night market, there was a wide variety of seafood, barbecue, shaved ice, and fresh-cut fruit. The small tables on the street were all full, and it didn't look like it was 11 p.m. at all. It was full of bald little kids who didn't like to sleep.

Just as Bian Lang was debating whether to order grilled sea urchin or shrimp paste, someone called out to him from a nearby stall: "Bian Lang, over here!" He turned around and saw his newly formed drummer and several other musicians.

"They didn't invite me to their team building activities. Looks like I need to work on my team spirit!" Bian Lang muttered as he walked over.

A Russian band was performing in the small square of the night market. I couldn't understand what they were singing in Russian, but the combination of accordion and acoustic guitar gave off a strong Soviet vibe. The melodies were almost entirely long notes, and the lead singer's hysterical trills created a sense of desolation, like a scene of endless gunfire and the mourning of wounded soldiers.

Drinking draft beer while having barbecue seems a bit incongruous.

Sure enough, someone at the table couldn't stand it anymore: "Why isn't the Russian fighting spirit passionate at all? They just keep making up these tragic stories. No wonder they were dragged down and disintegrated by the Americans."

It was just a joke, but the Russian guy sitting next to them wasn't happy about it and retorted in a thick Northeastern accent: "What? What's it to you if we're just expressing our patriotism? If you're so capable, why don't you do it yourself!"

"Let's go for it! Are we, a group of professionals, afraid of a band that's just doing gigs?" The guy at the table wasn't intimidated either. The whole table was full of rock musicians, and they couldn't let the Russians outdo them on their own turf. Besides, they'd had quite a bit to drink, so they wouldn't usually be so impulsive!

Both of them were quite loud, and after this back and forth, naturally, compatriots from both countries who love to watch the excitement stirred things up.

The Russian guy was quite popular in this area, and he immediately got up to make arrangements for the group.

The guy who spoke rubbed his hands together, looking eager to try, and said to Bian Lang, "Bian Lang, let's play 'No Place to Hide'! Let's show them what real attitude is!"

Drummer Xiao Biao agreed: "Bian Lang, just play like you did during the day, I can keep up!"

That's the difference between rock musicians and stars. As long as there's a stage, no matter how big or small, and the atmosphere is right, they're willing to go on stage and have fun. They never have any idol baggage.

"Let's go, not singing 'No Place to Hide,' let's have a disco, I'll play the rhythm, Xiao Biao, you can improvise!"

"No way, Brother Bian! Even if you don't sing 'No Place to Hide,' you could at least sing 'Those Without Ideals Don't Get Hurt,' I'd love to hear it live!"

Bian Lang shook his head again: "Either you guys go yourselves, or if I'm going to go, then listen to me."

Now, these mute musicians looked at each other, all falling silent. They weren't afraid of any of the piano, drum, or bass battles, but when it came to singing, they were a little unsure, mainly because they were afraid of losing face if they made a boast.

So the guy who had spoken up got up and went to check out the equipment with the Russian guy. He came back a little while later and said, "We don't have a bass, but we can use two electric guitars, a drum kit, and a keyboard."

Bian Lang glanced at the four of them. Apart from the bassist who started the song, the rest of the lineup, including him, was just right!

Then he said to the guitarist, "You play the rhythm: two measures each of Em, Am, D7, and B7. The keyboardists and drummers can improvise in G major, 4/4 time!"

They were all experienced and understood immediately. After nodding, they followed Bian Lang onto the stage.

The bassist who started the fight became the object of ridicule from his compatriots, who said he was the loudest and the quickest to back down!

But what could he do? That's just how bassists are—they do the work that outsiders think is most dispensable, and they get the worst criticism...

Meanwhile, BJ, producer of "Tractor Band," was waiting for someone at the Baihua Recording Studio at No. 16 Baihua Shenchu ​​Hutong, Xinjiekou.

He had already screened the female singers in the industry who met Bian Lang's requirements for "Hand-held Tractor Ski". The big names didn't want to sing the OST for the online movie, so they declined on the grounds that their style was hard to grasp. The smaller names auditioned a few and felt that they were just average.

Today, Chung Wah happened to have a friend's connection and found out that a top-tier female singer whose voice met Bian Lang's requirements was recording here, so he brought his own accompaniment and came to wait for her.

Chung Hua, who had previously worked as a producer on major projects, naturally had to give face to the top female singer Tao Xiaoyu when he came in person. However, after listening to the accompaniment, she shook her head and declined.

"Producer Chung, this song is too different from my style. I feel like I can't handle it. Why don't you find someone else to listen to?"

Faced with this result, Zhong Hua expressed his understanding and then squatted down at the door to smoke.

Suddenly, the sound engineer came out and called to him, "Old Zhong, Huang Wei, who's in the back of the line, heard the accompaniment and wants to try it out. Do you want to listen to it?"

Upon hearing the name Huang Wei, Zhong Hua searched his memory for a long time before vaguely recalling even a tiny bit of it.

"She's still making music? I thought..."

"I've been doing this all along, you just don't know it. I think it'd be perfect for her to sing it, why don't you give it a try?"

At the sound engineer's urging, Chung Hua stubbed out his cigarette and followed him into the recording studio.

……

At the night market, the four members of Bianlang had already taken the stage. After a simple sound check, they began their performance amidst cheers from the night market spectators.

"The BJ express train to Moscow crosses the Volga River in Siberia, passes through the Swarovski forest, and arrives at the mesmerizing Kremlin..."

After the first four lines were sung, the other three musicians felt an overwhelming sense of respect! Using songs written for Russians to conquer them was simply a winning strategy.

!

The reaction from the Russians in the audience was even more exaggerated:

"This Chinese person is singing about our country!"

"Unbelievable, what an amazing kid!"

"A cowboy from Leningrad, I have a Tonica guitar, Gagarin's rocket is still in space, Tolstoy's Anna Katrina..."

"Kabinsky, Tchaikovsky, truck driver, taxi driver, tractor driver... Ivanov, Papnov, Babanov, he's a coward, Lorirosov... Sharapova, Dapopova, ginseng doll, gourd doll, Kournikova..."

By this point in the song, Bian Lang's voice had attracted more than just the initial group; some Russian girls even stood up and started dancing in the plaza in front of the stage. The Russian guys were also clinking glasses with beer and toasting the bassist watching from below the stage.

"Rusevvic, Djokovic, Nikolavic, Fedorovic, RUSSIA DISCO, RUSSIA DISCO DANCE, RUSSIA DISCO DANCE..."

The Chinese people stared blankly at this bizarre scene, but the melody and lyrics of the song were so catchy that some extroverted people got up and joined in the revelry.

"On this night outside Moscow, without hearing those lofty vows, who will fight for their ideals, who will sacrifice for love...?"

When the song reached this point, a few Russians suddenly realized what was happening. They stopped celebrating with each other, stopped their dancing, and began to listen attentively.

But no one expected that Bianlang would launch into another cheerful verse, continuing to draw them into happiness: "A cowboy from Leningrad, I have a Tonica guitar, Gagarin's rocket is still in space, Tolstoy's Anna Katrina..."

Kabinsky, Tchaikovsky, truck driver, taxi driver, tractor driver...

Ivanov, Papnov, Babanov, he's a coward, Roryrosov...

Sharapova, Dapopova, Ginseng Doll, Gourd Doll, Kournikova...

Rusevvic, Djokovic, Nikolavic, Fedorovic, RUSSIA DISCO

However, just when they thought the cheerful melody would continue, Bian Lang turned to the other three and gestured for them to stop, leaving only his guitar playing and his voice, now an octave higher, on stage:

"Moscow no longer believes anyone's tears, nor will she believe anyone anymore. The once handsome young man, his youth is gone... Moscow no longer believes anyone's tears, nor will she believe anyone anymore. The once passionate melody, like RUSSIA DISCO GO..."

As soon as those few lines of the verse came out, the Russians were completely stunned. Some stared at the stage with their mouths agape, while others had tears welling up in their eyes!

"This Chinese man! He understands us!"