The Star - Weekender
Saturday December 5, 2009
Loving The Past
By LOUISA LIM
Just when you thought Nanyang Music was as good as dead in Malaysia, one woman resuscitates it with the might of her voice.
Once upon a time in Malaysia when people of all races co-existed peacefully and politicians were heroes instead of jesters, a girl named Yudi Yap got her first whiff of inspiration.
"People sang songs about love and happiness", sighs Yap, now 40+. "And life was so much simpler."
Yudi in Jackie-O sunnies and straw hat ready to sing Ban Seng Yin.-RAYMOND OOI/The Star
Yap, or Yudi as she's more fondly known, has come a long way since those days. The Malaysian-Chinese community know her as a singer-songwriter who's been championing local music with folk-rock band Alternative Music House since in the early 90s, but it is through shi dai qiu ?a type of fusion music originating from Shanghai in the 1920s blending Chinese folk songs with European jazz sounds - that she has really made her name.
Yudi, it seems, has found her own voice, and it is as lustrous and haunting as the past she so adores.
Then again, everything about Yudi is old-world. She's sitting right where it all started: the Precious Old China restaurant, a quaint, old-fashioned cafe in Central Market filled with dark antique furniture and the heady scent of oak polish intermingling with cigarette smoke. Her very first shi dai qiu concert was held here.
Clad in a figure-skimming cardigan-and-skirt combo and sipping coffee in a manner befitting what the English would call a proper lady, she blends in so effortlessly that the scene might well have been from a scratchy, black-and-white film set in 1940s Shanghai.
Judging from the patrons' faces, it is obvious what they are thinking. Is she a figment of their Hong Kong cinema-fuelled imagination, or is she flesh-and-blood, just like the rest?
Pearlly Chua, the producer of her latest show entitled Modern Nanyang, claims that it isn't merely an act: "She a person of the past living in the present. I always see her in vintage dresses and hardly denim. She even drives a powder-blue Volkswagen Beetle. We can't stop teasing her about it."
"Actually," interjects Yudi, "looking elegant 24/7 can be a very tiring job. I don't know how women in those days did it because it's not just dressing up in a cheongsam or a kebaya. The way you carry yourself and how your hair looks matter as much!?"
Some old pieces from her personal collection.-RAYMOND OOI/The Star
However, she's even more mystified with what happened decades ago in Malaya.
"I never lived in the 40s,"she says. "But I always wonder what it was like? What went on in their heads? What did they like to do? Sure, you have old photographs to tell you part of the story, but for the other part, there's Nanyang music."
Those were the days
When the second wave of Chinese migrants began pouring into Malaya in search of work in the early 20th century, many did not make enough money to fund their trip home. So, according to Yudi, they wrote songs and performed for a little extra money.
"Nanyang tunes is music that was found in South-East Asia during that era. In Malaya, it flourished, thanks to the enterprising nature of these Chinese traders," explains Yudi, as the make-up artist puts the final touches on her.
"At the same time, many songs were also being brought in from Indonesia. Traditional Indonesian folk songs like Rasa Sayang, for instance, were reinterpreted and sung by the masses, whether they were Chinese, Malay or Indian. But the best example has to be songs by P. Ramlee, who incorporated many Chinese and Hindustani elements into his repertoire. It showed how strong our racial ties were."
Going for an authentic look.-RAYMOND OOI/The Star
For someone whose interest in Nanyang music began just two years ago ("I was on a soul-searching mission before the elections," she reveals), Yudi knows a great deal. It isn't enough that she belts out each tune with a certain enigmatic tenderness, she learns the history of each one by poring through stacks of old music books or the World Wide Web during her free time.
Her knowledge of Nanyang tunes, particularly the Chinese ones, is so impressive that she's also a music columnist for Sin Chew Jit Poh.
Sometimes, it's friends who tell me. That's how I found out that Teresa Teng's Tien Mi Mi was actually from a tune called Dayung Sampan. You would think it's strange that a Taiwanese is singing an Indonesian folk song, but the people then thought nothing of it," she says, before taking to the floor.
Yudi, who is performing in a dinner-show at Precious Old China over the week, is about to give the audience a glimpse of her talent. The background music comes on and a hush falls over the restaurant. Soon, a light, care-free timbre pours from her pouty, rouge-painted lips:"Dayung sampan, dayung dayung sampan, datang dari Negara Cina, sampai ke Malaya."
+and+vocal+coach,+Stefano+Chen..bmp)
Show producer, Chin San Sooi (behind) and vocal coach, Stefano Chen. RAYMOND OOI/The Star
Yudi's second song, Moonlight Bay, is another old favourite. Originally a Mandarin tune, it was translated into English in the 1960s by famous cabaret singer Rebecca Pan and has been sung by everyone from karaoke enthusiasts to lullaby crooners.
These songs are exactly as Yudi describes them: highly distinctive, although traditional musical instruments are rarely used.
While the simplicity of the melodies contribute to its charm, Nanyang music tends to run the risk of sounding "too simple" to our contemporary ears. But what it lacks, it makes up for in terms of fun and catchiness.
In the third song, Ban Seng Yin, which means the "Charisma of Penang" Yudi dons a pair of Jackie-O sunnies and straw hat for a little leg-kicking, shoulder-shimmying number. The song, though upbeat like the first two, is what Yudi terms a different type of Nanyang music.
"There were two categories of Nanyang music in Malaya," says Yudi. "One was composed by the people who live here, and the other was composed by those overseas. Ban Seng Yin, in the latter, is not very accurate because it was written by a Taiwanese, who made Penang sound as if it were Tahiti."
Beyonce?who?
When it comes to Chinese divas, the notion persists that a great voice is able to peel layers and layers away from a song and present it in all its raw beauty. Dama Orchestra's Tan Soo Suan does it with great finesse. The great question on everyone's minds today, then, is if Yudi is able to do the same.
This is, after all, an industry with such limited heroines that people cannot help but compare Yudi to Tan on numerous occasions. But as soon as Yudi launches into her first few songs, it becomes apparent that she抯 able to hold her own.
Vocal coach Stefano Chen has likened her voice to a piece of raw jade, "because the more you polish it, the better it gets".
He's right.
"Not everyone can sing shi dai qiu, because you must be able to feel it in your soul," Yudi says.
"A person may have impressive vocals, but sometimes it falls flat when it comes to shi dai qiu. It's not something you can learn over time, it's a gift."
Her voice, it seems, is capable of rising and dipping in perfect sync with the swaying of hips. Still, for all the glamour that Yudi projects under the spotlight, she remains down-to-earth and unaffected.
"Oh, I'll never be like the seven great divas," she says, brushing aside comparisons with a flick of the hand.
"As much as I'm obsessed with Zhou Xuan, Bai Guang, Li Xiang Lan and the rest, I can't repeat history. Bai Guang, especially, lived a difficult yet commendable life. Did you know she lived and died here in Malaysia? There's an electric piano on her gravesite in Kuala Lumpur, and it plays her music each time you touch the keys."
It's also not surprising that Yudi's favourite song happens to be Zhou Xuan's Tian Ya Ge Nui ("The Songstress of The World") , which, she reveals, reminds her to always stay true to herself, no matter what.
As Nanyang music experiences a fate similar to that of shi dai qiu (which came to an end when the Communist Party denounced it as yellow music) in Malaysia, Yudi is determined to keep the melodies of yesteryears close to her heart.
"That's why I have a dusty, old gramophone and a collection of vinyl LPs," she says. These represent what music once was - a national pastime. In those days, people appreciated music so much that they have to do a bit of manual work in order to listen to something. Nowadays, you just pop in the CD and change the tracks automatically.
The Modern Nanyang Concert at Precious Old China Restaurant, Central Market, costs RM120 per person and will run till tomorrow. Yudi Yap will perform popular Nanyang tunes from the 50s and 60s. Dinner is included. Call 016-353 3998 for reservations.
Originally from:
http://star-ecentral.com/news/story.asp?file=/2009/12/5/soundnstage/5225774&sec=soundnstage
Yudi, it seems, has found her own voice, and it is as lustrous and haunting as the past she so adores.
Then again, everything about Yudi is old-world. She's sitting right where it all started: the Precious Old China restaurant, a quaint, old-fashioned cafe in Central Market filled with dark antique furniture and the heady scent of oak polish intermingling with cigarette smoke. Her very first shi dai qiu concert was held here.
Clad in a figure-skimming cardigan-and-skirt combo and sipping coffee in a manner befitting what the English would call a proper lady, she blends in so effortlessly that the scene might well have been from a scratchy, black-and-white film set in 1940s Shanghai.
Judging from the patrons' faces, it is obvious what they are thinking. Is she a figment of their Hong Kong cinema-fuelled imagination, or is she flesh-and-blood, just like the rest?
Pearlly Chua, the producer of her latest show entitled Modern Nanyang, claims that it isn't merely an act: "She a person of the past living in the present. I always see her in vintage dresses and hardly denim. She even drives a powder-blue Volkswagen Beetle. We can't stop teasing her about it."
"Actually," interjects Yudi, "looking elegant 24/7 can be a very tiring job. I don't know how women in those days did it because it's not just dressing up in a cheongsam or a kebaya. The way you carry yourself and how your hair looks matter as much!?"
Some old pieces from her personal collection.-RAYMOND OOI/The Star
However, she's even more mystified with what happened decades ago in Malaya.
"I never lived in the 40s,"she says. "But I always wonder what it was like? What went on in their heads? What did they like to do? Sure, you have old photographs to tell you part of the story, but for the other part, there's Nanyang music."
Those were the days
When the second wave of Chinese migrants began pouring into Malaya in search of work in the early 20th century, many did not make enough money to fund their trip home. So, according to Yudi, they wrote songs and performed for a little extra money.
"Nanyang tunes is music that was found in South-East Asia during that era. In Malaya, it flourished, thanks to the enterprising nature of these Chinese traders," explains Yudi, as the make-up artist puts the final touches on her.
"At the same time, many songs were also being brought in from Indonesia. Traditional Indonesian folk songs like Rasa Sayang, for instance, were reinterpreted and sung by the masses, whether they were Chinese, Malay or Indian. But the best example has to be songs by P. Ramlee, who incorporated many Chinese and Hindustani elements into his repertoire. It showed how strong our racial ties were."
Going for an authentic look.-RAYMOND OOI/The Star
For someone whose interest in Nanyang music began just two years ago ("I was on a soul-searching mission before the elections," she reveals), Yudi knows a great deal. It isn't enough that she belts out each tune with a certain enigmatic tenderness, she learns the history of each one by poring through stacks of old music books or the World Wide Web during her free time.
Her knowledge of Nanyang tunes, particularly the Chinese ones, is so impressive that she's also a music columnist for Sin Chew Jit Poh.
Sometimes, it's friends who tell me. That's how I found out that Teresa Teng's Tien Mi Mi was actually from a tune called Dayung Sampan. You would think it's strange that a Taiwanese is singing an Indonesian folk song, but the people then thought nothing of it," she says, before taking to the floor.
Yudi, who is performing in a dinner-show at Precious Old China over the week, is about to give the audience a glimpse of her talent. The background music comes on and a hush falls over the restaurant. Soon, a light, care-free timbre pours from her pouty, rouge-painted lips:"Dayung sampan, dayung dayung sampan, datang dari Negara Cina, sampai ke Malaya."
+and+vocal+coach,+Stefano+Chen..bmp)
Show producer, Chin San Sooi (behind) and vocal coach, Stefano Chen. RAYMOND OOI/The Star
Yudi's second song, Moonlight Bay, is another old favourite. Originally a Mandarin tune, it was translated into English in the 1960s by famous cabaret singer Rebecca Pan and has been sung by everyone from karaoke enthusiasts to lullaby crooners.
These songs are exactly as Yudi describes them: highly distinctive, although traditional musical instruments are rarely used.
While the simplicity of the melodies contribute to its charm, Nanyang music tends to run the risk of sounding "too simple" to our contemporary ears. But what it lacks, it makes up for in terms of fun and catchiness.
In the third song, Ban Seng Yin, which means the "Charisma of Penang" Yudi dons a pair of Jackie-O sunnies and straw hat for a little leg-kicking, shoulder-shimmying number. The song, though upbeat like the first two, is what Yudi terms a different type of Nanyang music.
"There were two categories of Nanyang music in Malaya," says Yudi. "One was composed by the people who live here, and the other was composed by those overseas. Ban Seng Yin, in the latter, is not very accurate because it was written by a Taiwanese, who made Penang sound as if it were Tahiti."
Beyonce?who?
When it comes to Chinese divas, the notion persists that a great voice is able to peel layers and layers away from a song and present it in all its raw beauty. Dama Orchestra's Tan Soo Suan does it with great finesse. The great question on everyone's minds today, then, is if Yudi is able to do the same.
This is, after all, an industry with such limited heroines that people cannot help but compare Yudi to Tan on numerous occasions. But as soon as Yudi launches into her first few songs, it becomes apparent that she抯 able to hold her own.
Vocal coach Stefano Chen has likened her voice to a piece of raw jade, "because the more you polish it, the better it gets".
He's right.
"Not everyone can sing shi dai qiu, because you must be able to feel it in your soul," Yudi says.
"A person may have impressive vocals, but sometimes it falls flat when it comes to shi dai qiu. It's not something you can learn over time, it's a gift."
Her voice, it seems, is capable of rising and dipping in perfect sync with the swaying of hips. Still, for all the glamour that Yudi projects under the spotlight, she remains down-to-earth and unaffected.
"Oh, I'll never be like the seven great divas," she says, brushing aside comparisons with a flick of the hand.
"As much as I'm obsessed with Zhou Xuan, Bai Guang, Li Xiang Lan and the rest, I can't repeat history. Bai Guang, especially, lived a difficult yet commendable life. Did you know she lived and died here in Malaysia? There's an electric piano on her gravesite in Kuala Lumpur, and it plays her music each time you touch the keys."
It's also not surprising that Yudi's favourite song happens to be Zhou Xuan's Tian Ya Ge Nui ("The Songstress of The World") , which, she reveals, reminds her to always stay true to herself, no matter what.
As Nanyang music experiences a fate similar to that of shi dai qiu (which came to an end when the Communist Party denounced it as yellow music) in Malaysia, Yudi is determined to keep the melodies of yesteryears close to her heart.
"That's why I have a dusty, old gramophone and a collection of vinyl LPs," she says. These represent what music once was - a national pastime. In those days, people appreciated music so much that they have to do a bit of manual work in order to listen to something. Nowadays, you just pop in the CD and change the tracks automatically.
The Modern Nanyang Concert at Precious Old China Restaurant, Central Market, costs RM120 per person and will run till tomorrow. Yudi Yap will perform popular Nanyang tunes from the 50s and 60s. Dinner is included. Call 016-353 3998 for reservations.
Originally from:
http://star-ecentral.com/news/story.asp?file=/2009/12/5/soundnstage/5225774&sec=soundnstage
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