浮躁 (Fúzào)

*Written in one go. One of those things I just had to type out and leave alone , y'know?*

Music is probably the toughest form of media to objectify and decipher. We can't physically touch or see it like we can with a movie or a book. All we have to work with is the context shared with us, but sometimes that information is relayed incorrectly or it's just simply lost in translation. In moments like these, you have to work with the snippets given and, occasionally, rely on a gut feeling.

Towards the end of the 90s, chinese icon Faye Wong was approaching the end of her label contract with Cinepoly. "Fuzao" was Wong's thirteenth(???) studio album up to this point and, given the artistic restraints that come with marketability, it was timely that she would divulge in new directions and self expression. The most notable being the brief, collaborative efforts and contributions from the dwindling Cocteau Twins. The band broke up just a year after Fuzao's release, but the last of their creativity is prevalent. Earnestly and fittingly to boot.

This is where things start to get subjective to us english folk. (Feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong. I want to know!) You see, "Fuzao" has quite a few translations. Restless, exasperation, anxiety and impatience. No matter which one you settle with, they undoubtedly share the same mood. That level of tiredness that comes from heavy thinking. The search for peace of mind in a noisy world. I've spent a lot of time looking for a "cure" for my anxiousness and introverted demeanor, but in reality, I've learned to be comfortable with it. To work with it as opposed to around it. That's what I get out of this.

Even with a language barrier, Fuzao is the kind of album that makes you feel comfortable in your own skin. To be able to roll with the punches, but to be able to think things over later. To be so deep in thought only to snap out of it and come back to your senses. To be serious, but to know how to have fun every once in while. Going out of your comfort zone even. Ms. Wong sounds so free in her performances. We see a different side of her. As it turns out, there's a person behind all the billboards, posters and radio adverts- and it must be so refreshing to just let it all out for once. (The cheerful mantra in "浮躁" ["Fúzào"] is apparently gibberish.) I highly doubt it's the most confessional album out there, in fact I know it isn't, but the level of openness (dare I say, "excitement" in self discovery) on display is easy to pick up on. Let alone just how impressionable it can be.

With that said, Fuzao doesn't mean to reach so deep. It just kind of happens. The lingual disconnection from one word still speaks a thousand and that feat alone is worth experiencing for yourself.

La cha bor,
La cha bor!