It's only rock 'n' roll
- but in China, call it yaogu

That's the opinion of writer and musician Jonathan Campbell, who spent over a decade covering, playing and becoming thoroughly immersed in music, and the scene in China. His "Red Rock" is the first comprehensive look at the Long, Strange March of Chinese Rock & Roll.

By Ron Gluckman/Beijing, China

WHAT IS ROCK 'N' ROLL AROUND THE WORLD,  roars in China like a different musical beast, according to musician and writer Jonathan Campbell, who tracks its evolution from conception in the mid-late 1980s to its modern form today. A quarter century might not seem a lengthy musical lifespan, but Mr. Campbell expertly covers all its twists, shouts and stumbles in "Red Rock: The Long, Strange March of Chinese Rock & Roll."

Few people are better positioned to compile the first comprehensive study of China's rock scene than this Canadian who moved to Beijing in 2000, and was instantly immersed in music. For a decade, he wrote for magazines, played in bands and helped organize shows, festivals and tours. Critic Hao Fang, former editor of Rolling Stone in China, sings his praises, saying it's almost shameful that such a book was penned by a foreigner.

Mr. Campbell could hardly seem more local. He first caught the China bug during a summer of language study in 1997 in the eastern city of Xiamen. After finishing university, he took up residence in Beijing and quickly landed a job writing for a bilingual city events guide. And he began playing with a series of local bands.

Soon, he was providing rhythmic grooves for Wude (Wood), a seminal Beijing funk-fusion band. Later came roles in Chou Doufu (Stinky Tofu) and blues-rockers Black Cat Bones. Along the way, he leapfrogged from local magazines to organizing shows at the clubs he covered.

By the mid-2000s, Mr. Campbell was an important music middleman in the nascent scene. He not only helped bring international stars like Bela Fleck to China, but took some of the country's top acts on pioneering overseas tours. These were no rock get-rich schemes, rather labors of love for a major music fan.

He returned to his native Toronto in 2010, already hard at work on the book. But as he dug deeper, the outline changed radically, along with his perspective. "I had been in China for 10 years, and sort of figured that would be one chapter per year, with a chapter on how we got to 2000," he explains. "But I had no idea about the journey that came before, the intensity of the musicians and the ordeal. That became the real story, how Chinese rock developed."

"It's about the context, how this amazing music really came out of a complete vacuum. It's so inspiring," he says. "It's not like rock anywhere else." Hence, he calls it yaogun, which is also the general Chinese term for rock.

But not all Chinese rock qualifies in Mr. Campbell's view. Yaogun is rock of a higher order, composed in dingy clubs by dedicated souls, isolated from the musical influences commonplace around the globe. Such conditions nurtured a new, battle-hardened rock. "Yaogun couldn't have developed anywhere else in the world," he tells a packed house at the Bookworm in Beijing.

He even pinpoints the exact birth of yaogun—May 9, 1986. That was when a swarm of Chinese musicians gathered for a concert inspired by the "We Are The World" movement. Musicians everywhere were involved in mass concerts and recordings to benefit charity causes like African aid, and China jumped on the bandwagon. Mr. Campbell references archival footage showing more than 100 musicians from various approved cultural organizations.

One stood out. After singing his lines in cheesy costume with the entire musical community, Cui Jian returned in rolled up jeans, belting out "Nothing to My Name." Widely considered the grandfather of Chinese rock—Mr. Campbell dubs him Yaogunner Number One—Mr. Cui created an anthem for China.

"That song moved practically everyone," says Hao Fang. "It wasn't just young people, or music fans. You heard it everywhere you went." He agrees it sparked an awakening. "There was this yearning for something beyond the material in China, and it wasn't just Cui Jian. Artists, writers, musicians were all feeling it."

Mr. Campbell finds inspiration across a generation of pioneer Chinese rockers. His compassion is compelling, but decidedly China-centric. With a broader view, one finds similar rock odysseys are underway in places like Myanmar as curtains, whether bamboo or iron, part on totalitarian regimes. The musical awakening is inevitably raucous and full of adolescent angst.

The beginning of "Red Rock" reads a bit like a party conference, as Mr. Campbell preaches his case for the uniqueness of yaogun. Readers are advised to persevere. The book becomes a page-turner as Mr. Campbell details China's rapid rock evolution in intimate conversations with musicians.

For example, Five-Point Star, a cover band from Inner Mongolia, was obsessed by The Beatles. Then they realized Paul McCartney was left-handed, and actually discussed whether bassist Dai Qin would have to relearn as a lefty. "We studied The Beatles: their voices, the visuals, everything," Dai Qin tells the author. "We were like soldiers."

Populated by rich personalities and filled with comical turns, the book has wide appeal beyond the musically attuned. "It isn't really a book about rock in China," Mr. Campbell says. "It's really a story about China, how it developed." Yaogun or rock? In the end, it hardly matters, since this is a rare China book that isn't focused on politics or profits, simply people yearning for change and a stage. Mr. Campbell, then and now, helps provide one.

details: Red Rock: The Long, Strange March of Chinese Rock & Roll
By Jonathan Campbell
Earnshaw Books, 304 pages, US$19.99
http://www.jonathanwcampbell.com/The_Book.html

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