How many intersectional studies can one make? Yes, all of them, it seems for Jin De-zhe. It’s not often you get to write about a Chinese physicist of ethnic Korean descent who moonlights in making gorgeous ambient folk music recorded in Beijing sung in Cantonese Mandarin (editor’s note: sorry for the mix-up) for the Hong Kong market, released under a Taiwanese New Age label. It’s a seemingly insane juggling act that Jin pulled off in 1993 and burned quite through brightly in his sole release, Those Were The Dreams. Going for a “new folk” music, for that brief period Jin honed his gaze on music, he caught some unlikely lightning in a bottle.
Jin’s life began far away from more transited Chinese locales. Although born in South Korea in 1967, Jin was raised in one of the ethnic minority majority prefectures, Yanbian, in an ethnic Korean “autonomous” zone. As all children who grew up there, Jin had to navigate that in-between world where Chinese autonomy meant educating themselves in the history and language of the Chinese communist majority yet having some semblance of a tie to some Korean roots — one undoubtedly serving as a buffer to guard against the influence of bordering North Korea.
In the beginning, it was his book smarts that allowed him some measure of freedom. A deep love of mathematics and science allowed him to earn a degree in physics at Beijing’s prestigious Tsinghua University in the early ‘80s. Then, somehow, as Jin ventured further into the larger metropolis, he fell in love with China’s burgeoning folk music scene. As he’d travel to America to further his studies and get a doctorate at UC San Diego, Jin caught wind of the contemporary music of America and realized that he was into that too.
When Jin headed back to Beijing from America in 1993, he sought the help of writer, arranger, and friend, Fan Bo. Jin, much like Fan, had a deep appreciation/affection for the folk music of his homeland (and more precisely where his first roots sprouted) but had always felt the music of China had forgotten how to keep up with everything he loved elsewhere. At that time, far too many couldn’t look beyond the mainstream pop of Hong Kong and Taiwan for inspiration. So venturing to create music that could speak to a modern audience, one that could reimagine their traditions is what he had to do. Jim pushed Fan to help pass around a demo tape, hoping to find a label that could grant him a sound and freedom to make songs that spoke to these new ideas he wanted to explore.
It’s not hard to hear what producer Chen Zhe found captivating about Jin’s music when he promoted the earlier demos to Hong Kong’s Hugo Productions record label. There was something about Jin’s intimate, yearning, voice, that they realized needed to be framed differently. So rather than pitch him as a standard folk artist, they easily convinced him to try something else: what if he joined their KIIGO imprint instead and tried to combine his voice and folk balladeering with that new spirit of electronic New Age music to create more atmospheric pop music?
For half a year before it’s creation, Fan Bo and Jin De-zhe began to make conscious decisions. Many of them revolved around making an album that might speak to not many but a few of the people who found in music a kind of spiritual resonance. Distinctly commercial music would be out of the question. Certain songs would be reimagined as instrumentals, reformed, rethought as forward-thinking neofolk ambient music. In the end, they wanted music that would be touching and real.
When I listen to Those Were The Dreams (半梦) I’m reminded of like-minded works like Talk Talk’s Spirit Of Eden or The Blue Nile’s Peace At Last all works hat treat one’s idea of the pastoral as one’s phonetic to reach towards a new vocabulary of folk music, one extremely tied to the interpersonal connections of one’s life. Here, much like there, every struck chord is one sent to a string barely holding the protagonist on.
So you get vast expanses of slipless melodies like those found in the opening track “在那遥远的地方 – At A Place Far Away” where Jin’s vocalese settle into ethereal reaches punctuating music going through peaks and troughs of emotion. Jin would take inspiration from timeless Chinese instruments like the Xun and Matouqin, solo wind and string instruments capable of exuding a certain mellow melodrama, to similarly use his own voice to be as expressive of an instrument.
The titular track or others like “梦幻森林 – An Illusory Forest” and “于是你在我梦中哭泣 – So You Are Crying In My Dreams” sometime dissolve into pure melancholic melisma, letting Jin air out what are really some of the albums most tender moments. For ostensibly an acoustic guitar-driven album, most of the music seems to be a vehicle for Jin’s dynamic phrasing. Daring choices to touch on distinctly “western” styles (such as Country music), filtered through the prism of the duo’s experimentation, yield astounding musical hybrids like “Honey” and “For You” that place his idea of a songwriter’s album into some rarefied territory.
One wonders just what could have been if Jin decided to pursue this part of his creativity further. Just a year or so afterward, Jin would travel back to America where he’d pursue his PhD — in effect ending his musical career for one in academia (ending up as a professor at Penn State University). Here’s hoping those half-forgotten dreams eventually get their full run as Jin recently shared his musical ideas once again with us.