Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

The interview is scheduled for Thursday afternoon.

When Fang Yuan arrived at the recording studio of BJ TV's "Cultural Viewpoint," Wang Jinghua was already in the control room going over the process with the director.

Zeng Li was in the dressing room, the door was half open.

"Teacher Fang." The host, Zhou Yun, came from the other end of the corridor, holding a script in her hand.

"We'll have one hour today. First, we'll discuss the concept, then we'll sing. Please take a look at the script."

Fang Yuan took the script and flipped through it. "No problem."

The recording studio was small, with dark sofas, a bookshelf behind it, and a landscape painting. The lighting was warm.

Zeng Li came out of the dressing room, dressed in a plain-colored business suit, which was rather casual.

She sat down on the sofa, and the makeup artist touched up her powder one last time.

Zhou Yun sat down and gestured for the camera to record. Five seconds later, the red light came on.

Good evening, viewers. Welcome to "Cultural Perspective".

A song called "Red-Clad Ladies" has recently sparked discussion.

The singer is Zeng Li, an actor we are familiar with.

Today we're not just going to talk about this song, but also the creative philosophy behind it.

"First, please let Zeng Li greet the audience."

"Hello, viewers, I'm Zeng Li."

"Another guest is Fang Yuan, the lyricist, composer, and arranger of 'Red Dress,' who is also the screenwriter of the films 'Be There or Be Square,' 'Lost in Thailand,' and 'Eighteen-Year-Old Sky.'"

Fang Yuan nodded.

Zhou Yun placed the script on her lap.

"Fang Yuan, let me ask you a direct question first. You write screenplays and novels, so why are you making music?"

"Writing a screenplay and writing a song are the same thing. They are both about putting a story in a limited form."

A movie is two hours long, a novel is a few hundred pages long, and a song is three minutes long.

"So what is the core of your proposed Chinese style?"

"I didn't invent the term 'Chinese style.' I just systematized it."

"How to systematize it?"

"Three levels."

The first level is musical language. Melodies are written using the pentatonic scale.

The five notes of Gong, Shang, Jiao, Zhi, and Yu, without fourth and seventh degrees, naturally give the melody an oriental flavor.

The arrangement uses traditional Chinese musical instruments as a base, such as the pipa, erhu, guzheng, and bamboo flute—not as embellishments, but integrated into the arrangement.

Each musical instrument has its own vocabulary; the pipa's tremolo technique is not the same as the guitar's strumming, and the erhu's bowing technique is not the same as the violin's bowing technique.

They must be written according to their own grammar.

"And the second level?"

"Lyrics," Fang Yuan said.

"We draw inspiration from the Book of Songs, Tang and Song poetry, Yuan drama, and local operas. It's not about copying, it's about absorbing."

Our ancestors left us a ready-made system of imagery—the bright moon, the mountain pass, the lone wild goose, and the long pavilion.

These images have been refined in poetry for thousands of years, each carrying layers of context.

The imagery used in the lyrics needs no explanation; its cultural significance is already ingrained in the readers' and listeners' blood.

"The third level."

"Narrative motifs"

Chinese classical literature has its own story archetypes—lament of a woman in her boudoir, border defense, separation, travel, unfulfilled talent, and the rise and fall of a nation.

These themes have been written about in poetry and opera for thousands of years, and they work just as well when applied to popular songs.

Because people's circumstances haven't changed. The central theme remains the same; what has changed is the specific time and the faces.

There was a moment of silence in the studio. Zhou Yun didn't respond immediately.

Fang Yuan continued:

"These three aspects combined make up the Chinese style."

It's not about wearing ancient costumes to sing love songs, nor is it about adding a section of erhu to the arrangement.

From melody and lyrics to narrative perspective, everything grows outward from its own cultural soil.

"So you mean that Chinese style is not just a musical genre?"

"Not entirely. To be precise, it's a creative method. The material is drawn from tradition, but the expression is aimed at the present."

Zhou Yun glanced down at the script.

"Since the material is taken from tradition, how do you handle the relationship between tradition and popular trends?"

Some might say, "You're taking tradition apart and putting it into a pop song; you're simplifying tradition."

"It's not a simplification," Fang Yuan said.

"It's about transformation. If tradition is just kept in museums and young people don't go in to see it, it dies."

There is only one way to bring it to life—use it to tell stories that people today can understand.

Transformation is not dilution; it's about finding those things that can transcend time.

For example, parting. Tang poems describe parting, such as, "I urge you to drink another cup of wine, for beyond Yangguan there will be no old friends."

In a popular song, I wrote, "Your hair is as white as snow, making our parting poignant."

The sentence structure has changed, the arrangement has changed, but the core theme of parting remains the same.

Tradition provides depth, while popularity provides entry.

Neither of these two elements is complete.

Zhou Yun turned to Zeng Li. "When you sing, are you aware that you're singing traditional things?"

"Yes," Zeng Li said. "When we finished recording 'Red-Clad Ladies' for the first time, my junior brother Fang said something to me."

He said the song is about an actor, but behind this actor stand all the people who have performed on stage for a thousand years, whose names no one remembers.

He placed a small incision in the lyrics, but if you follow that incision, you can see an entire tradition.

Do you think the audience can see it?

"The audience who likes it will definitely be able to."

Zhou Yun turned a page of the script.

"Fang Yuan, you just mentioned absorbing traditional nutrients. How did you first come into contact with these things?"

Fang Yuan said, "My mother. She used to be a middle school Chinese teacher. When I was a child, we had more than 300 books at home, half of which were anthologies of ancient books, such as Tang and Song poems, ancient prose, and selections of Yuan dramas."

For me, these books are my best companions throughout my growth.

Later, when I was writing novels and songs, I discovered that I didn't need to deliberately look for them; many words would just appear in my mind on their own.

Zeng Li glanced at him but didn't say anything.

Zhou Yun paused for a moment. "Let's listen to 'The Red-Clad Lament'."

Zeng Li got up and walked to the microphone.

The accompaniment came from the monitor speakers, with the pipa playing the tremolo first, followed by the erhu.

When she opened her mouth, her first sentence was even more somber than the evening party.

The operatic vocals in the chorus didn't rise higher; instead, they receded inwards.

The last note faded. No one in the shed uttered a sound.

Zhou Yun paused for three or four seconds before speaking.

"Fang Yuan, you explained the concept of Chinese style very clearly today. But do you feel lonely doing this in the industry?"

"No," Fang Yuan said.

"Traditional culture is like a mountain. As you climb it, you'll find the footprints of those who came before you every now and then."

Song lyrics were popular music in the Tang Dynasty, while Yuan songs were folk tunes in the Song Dynasty.

In every era, there are people doing the same thing—retelling traditions in their own words.

I'm just one of many in this generation.

"So what do you think is the biggest cultural challenge for this generation?"

"It's not that there aren't good works. It's that the language has been cut off."

Our lyrics are written in Chinese, but the melody ideas and arrangement logic have always been someone else's.

After writing for decades, I've realized I can no longer speak in my own language.

What Chinese style needs to do is to bring this language back.

"And then what happened after we brought them back?"

"After that, it won't be called Chinese style anymore. It will be called Chinese pop music."

Zhou Yun paused for a moment, looked down at the script, and then looked up again.

"One last question. What are you trying to prove by making this album?"

"It doesn't prove anything. Proof requires a judge, but culture has no judge."

I made this album because these melodies kept swirling in my head, and I really wanted to write them down.

I was very fortunate to meet my music professor, Professor Li, and also to meet my senior sister, Zeng Li, who could perform songs very well.

If your friends like it, listen to it more; if they don't like it, listen to something else.

It's okay, songs have their own destiny.

Zhou Yun closed the script and faced the camera.

"Thanks to Fang Yuan and Zeng Li. This album is called 'Chinese Style,' and it will be available on all platforms on June 24th. See you next time."

Red light off.

Wang Jinghua came out of the control room with her phone and notebook between her fingers.

"Shanghai Audio-Visual Southwest Region has added an order. China Record Corporation is discussing the licensing of the next ending theme song. Beijing Literature's counter posters are all installed."

The three products will be available simultaneously on June 24th.

"The radio premiere of 'Beyond the Temple' will be next Wednesday."

"Press releases will be simultaneous, revealing all three identities at once. The release dates will be staggered, with the album launching in the first month and the singles following in succession."

"Sister Hua, the rest is up to you."