Spice up your Chinese conversations with a sprinkling of red song lyrics
怎樣在生活中活用紅歌歌詞
Ginger Huang
Stroll through a Chinese park of a morning and you are likely to catch strains of music and singing floating through the air. Draw closer and you』ll find the choir consists of benign-looking silver-haired old folk, sitting or standing with their hands clasped behind their backs, belting out chorus after chorus of what sound like uplifting power ballads. What are they singing? In most cases, the track list will contain a healthy selection of red songs (紅歌 hóng gē), a vocal legacy of China’s recent past.
Red songs are most often associated with the patriotic or propaganda tunes written between the 1940s and 1978. The genre still survives, but without the kind of impersonal dedication that pervaded the music in former decades, and consequently missing the essential ingredient necessary to be considered a true red song.
In the 1950s, war movies carried scores almost exclusively consisting of red songs, while their other primary preserve were tracks extolling the virtues of the redoubtable Chinese worker and his struggle to build the new China.
In the 1960s, red songs based around the theme of how much people loved and worshipped Chairman Mao became de rigueur, and many composed in the latter half of the Cultural Revolution simply lifted Mao’s quotes and used them as lyrics. The artistic merit of the songs』 words notwithstanding, the tunes were so harsh on the ear that the style was immediately discontinued at the end of the Cultural Revolution.
Political notions aside, not all revolutionary songs are entirely devoid of musical merit—in fact, the musical quality of red songs is a major reason they』ve endured. The most celebrated red songs are invariably those that took classic minority compositions and replaced the original lyrics, or those that were composed based on established folk music styles. It’s often the ethnic charm, rather than the political overtones, that give red songs such wide appeal.
Parodies of classic red songs with lyrics like 「I fear no heaven or earth, but I do fear foreigners who can speak Chinese,」 have made the tunes a source of comedy for a new generation.
Red songs frequently also employ idyllic depictions of China’s landscapes to pluck people’s patriotic heartstrings. In doing so, they serve as a testament to the tremendous changes China’s natural environment has undergone over the course of half a century. For example, 「Waves after Waves in Honghu Lake」 (《洪湖水，浪打浪》Hónghú shuǐ, Làngdǎ làng) begins with the lyric,
In Honghu Lake waves chase each other… you can see wild ducks, water chestnuts and lotuses everywhere.
Hónghú shuǐ ya, làng ya ma làngdǎ làng a……Sìchù yěyā hé líng ǒu.
洪湖水呀，浪呀嘛浪打浪啊……四處野鴨和菱藕。
Fast-forward to the summer of 2011, and the worst drought in 70 years had virtually sucked the vast lake dry.
In 2010, red songs hit the headlines when it emerged that a Sichuan asylum was treating patients』 mental illnesses by uniting them in rousing renditions of the old classics, triggering public concern over the motivations behind (and effectiveness of) the therapy.
However, a Southern Weekly journalist visited the institution and came to the conclusion that the patients were mostly veterans who actually enjoyed the singing, and it was the only thing they could all do together. This hints at a primary reason why people are so attached to the songs: they represent a form of shared memory that is still strong enough to bring strangers together in parks.
Younger generations still find time for red songs, in part because the dramatic nature of the lyrics lend themselves well to comic interpretation, especially when dropped into conversations out of context. For foreigners, they’re also a means of flaunting your familiarity with Chinese culture, a la Youku phenomenon Hong Laowai (紅老外), a New York-based American professional whose videos of himself singing red songs and other classics have garnered millions of views.
Is your office beset by constant infighting and an air of perpetual gloom? Try boosting team spirit among your colleagues by declaring, 「When united we are strong.」 (團結就是力量。Tuánjié jiùshì lìliàng.) It’s a surefire red classic—if you learn only one red song, then this should be it. It was composed as early as 1943 for the purpose of pumping up people’s spirits for the war against the Japanese, and its elegant simplicity and rousing lyrics ensure it’s often used to open red song concerts (紅歌會). Here’s the full stanza, guaranteed to rouse your workmates from their apathy if sung in full voice every Monday morning around the water cooler:
When united we are strong! When united we are strong!
The strength is iron, the strength is steel.
But it’s stronger than iron, and harder than steel!
Tuánjié jiùshì lìliàng, tuánjié jiùshì lìliàng!
團結就是力量，團結就是力量！
Zhè lìliàng shì tiě, zhè lìliàng shì gāng.
這力量是鐵，這力量是鋼。
Bǐ tiě hái yìng, bǐ gāng hái qiáng!
比鐵還硬，比鋼還強！
Have you finally quit a job that was driving you crazy? Or your boyfriend has decided to help out with the housework for the first time in his life, or you』ve just finished an excruciating project that seemed like it would never end? This one is perfect for celebrating the sudden relief of prolonged repression (but is probably best not applied to bedroom environments): 「The liberated serfs are singing songs.」 (翻身農奴把歌唱。Fānshēn nóngnú bǎ gēchàng.) The song was composed for a documentary made by the Chinese government in 1961 called 「Tibet Today.」 It assumes the voice of a Tibetan woman casting her eyes over the plateau and singing,
The liberated serfs are singing songs, the voice of happiness reaches the four corners of the nation.
Fānshēn nóngnú bǎ gēchàng, xìngfú de gēshēng chuán sìfāng.
翻身農奴把歌唱，幸福的歌聲傳四方。
Try making your own variations like the following:
I finally quit that nasty job. I feel like a liberated serf singing songs!
Zhōngyú cí diào nà fèn tǎoyàn de gōngzuòle, zán fānshēn nóngnú yě bǎ gēchàng a!
終於辭掉那份討厭的工作了，咱翻身農奴也把歌唱啊！
The project is finally over. Let’s go to KTV and sing like serfs to celebrate!
Zhège xiàngmù zhōngyú jiéshùle, wǒmen fānshēn nóngnú bǎ gēchàng, qù KTV qìngzhù ba!
這個項目終於結束了，我們翻身農奴把歌唱，去KTV慶祝吧!
In 1960, China discovered the Daqing oil field in Heilongjiang Province, the country’s largest crude reserve. Previously, oil had been considered a scarce resource and buses were powered by gas tanks attached to their roofs, so to celebrate the momentous effort of the oil workers, 「I Produce Oil for My Motherland」(《我為祖國獻石油》Wǒ Wèi Zǔguó Xiàn Shíyóu) was composed in 1964 and became another instant red classic. It’s full of heroic exhortations, but the best known lyrics are 「I fear no heaven or earth, come wind, rain, thunder or lightning.」 (天不怕，地不怕，風雨雷電任隨他。Tiān bùpà, dì bùpà, fēngyǔ léidiàn rèn suí tā.) Chinese netizens have added their own twists to the line:
I fear no heaven or earth, but I do fear well-educated hooligans. (The term refers to well-read but corrupt officials.)
Tiān bùpà, dì bùpà, jiù pà liúmáng yǒu wénhuà.
天不怕，地不怕，就怕流氓有文化。
I fear no heaven or earth, but I do fear Sichuan people who speak Mandarin. (Sichuan people’s accents ensure they’re often tough to understand when speaking Putonghua.)
Tiān bùpà, dì bùpà, jiù pà sìchuān rén jiǎng pǔtōnghuà.
天不怕，地不怕，就怕四川人講普通話。
I fear no heaven or earth, but I do fear foreigners who can speak Chinese.
Tiān bùpà, dì bùpà, jiù pà lǎowài huì jiǎng zhōngguó huà.
天不怕，地不怕，就怕老外會講中國話。
The title of the song also leaves itself open to a number of ironic variations. As there are no official PM2.5 statistics (a designation for measuring air pollution) released in China, citizens in heavily polluted cities began performing their own tests, merrily declaring, 「I test the air for my motherland.」 (我為祖國測空氣。Wǒ Wèi Zǔguó Cè Kōngqì.)
In 1966, a magnitude seven earthquake struck Xingtai, Hebei Province. As usual, the government’s sterling relief efforts were immortalized in song, this one with a suitably long and impressive title: 「The Sky is Vast, the Earth is Vast, but Neither is as Vast as the Party’s Great Kindness.」 The lyrics are worthy of re-publishing in full:
The sky is vast, the earth is vast, but neither is as vast as the Party’s great kindness.
Dad is dear and mom is dear, but neither is as dear as Chairman Mao.
There are a thousand good things out there, maybe 10,000, but none as good as socialism.
The river is deep, the ocean is deep, but neither is as deep as class solidarity.
Tiān dàdì dà bùrú dǎng de ēnqíng dà,
天大地大不如黨的恩情大，
Diē qīn niang qīn bùrú máo zhǔxí qīn.
爹親娘親不如毛主席親。
Qiān hǎo wàn hǎo bùrú shèhuì zhǔyì hǎo,
千好萬好不如社會主義好，
Hé shēnhǎi shēn bùrú jiējí yǒu』ài shēn.
河深海深不如階級友愛深。
The first two lines are, for perhaps obvious reasons, most frequently the subject of parody. Deploy them when you want to highlight something’s importance:
The sky is vast, the earth is vast, but neither is as great as having something to eat for lunch.
Tiān dàdì dà bùrú chī wǔfàn de wèntí dà.
天大地大不如吃午飯的問題大。
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