translating myself

recently had the honor of being featured on hong kong's legendary 號外City Magazine. photo and interview was done by my photographer friend mario chui. i’ve been reading a lot recently, including my friend zoe suen’s newletter. it’s made me miss writing a lot, and translating a transcription of my own interview probably doesn’t count as writing, but it’ll make me feel good to type a bunch of words and hit publish, so this one’s for me. i appreciate whoever is reading this and whoever’s subscribed to my newsletter. there’s enough spam in your inbox, i’m sure.

here’s a loose translation (slightly embellished) to my feature:

i’ve got two songs left until the album is finished. the album is made of songs written from 2020 to 2023. it’s more of an archive, a compilation of documentation of how i’ve felt these years. the overarching theme of all the songs i’ve written in my life is probably loneliness. something’s always been missing, maybe.

(some of) my favorite genres: 60s motown/soul and 2000s R&B. put any R&B track from the 2000s on and i’ll dance. i can be depressed but put that on and i’ll be able to disassociate from my reality. it brings me a reliable sort of joy. and then there’s 60s soul. i’ve always loved music from the 60s. mainstream lyrics about love in the recent era (on top charts) primarily are focused on a sentiment like “i don’t need you” or “i miss you but you were bad for me”. it reflects, perhaps, a healthy rejection of placing one’s lover on a pedestal etc. it’s more realistic and self-protecting. but what i’ve always loved about lyrics of jazz standards and music from 60s is their unapologetic corniness. the moonlight, roses, rain imagery, the cliche, unoriginal directness of confessions and heartbreak. it’s not realistic but i think it’s brave. to know it’s corny but to still be that way. it’s honest admitting what you want.

to me, music is a kind of therapy. it helps me understand myself. it helps me break down and let go of emotions i don’t know how to deal with. it helps me make them more beautiful and then set them free. music is a space for me to experiment. my music-making is a documentation of my personal change. i hope, as a byproduct, my music encourages people to be more honest with themselves.

i think each person uses music for different reasons in different scenarios of their lives. sometimes, you listen to music to escape your current reality (putting something upbeat on when you’re down—a distraction). sometimes, you listen to music to indulge in and amplify what you currently feel—external (audio) matches your internal mood. sometimes, your mood is plain and putting on music helps dramatize your life. i think i, like most people, dramatize my self and my life when i’m at the back of a bus looking out the window by listening to some heartbreak ballad by eason chan. i use to music to soundtrack my life. without it, my life and my story would probably reveal itself to be too mundane, too common, too much like everyone else’s for me to treasure it. music validates my profound sentimentalism and gives me a sense of individuality. music gives me existential relief.

i like listening to music the most when i’m alone. when i’m with other people, it’s nice but it’s not as necessary. in fact, it bothers me sometimes when i’m with other people and a song comes on that’s really important to me, and the people i’m with don’t react to it the way i’d like them to. it’s psychotic and unfair but these situations make me pissed. sometimes i feel possessive of songs too. don’t you feel sometimes, that song was obviously made for me and only me?

what am i afraid of, being in music? money, of course. it’s the standard and most realistic answer. but what i’m more afraid of is being too afraid. being so afraid that i don’t release anything because i’m obsessing over whether it’s good enough. i don’t want to be 80 and filled with regret. i’m learning how to live my life more freely, less preciously (about my output).

i don’t want to be anyone’s idol. but i want recognition and validation of course, especially from other musicians i admire. artists that value emotive expression, experimentation, good melody and good writing. with or without validation though, one thing i have unwavering confidence about: music is the purpose of my life.

if i weren’t doing music, i wouldn’t know who i was. ever since i was little, music has been here for me. music will never let me down.

in hong kong i feel like i’m not hongkonger enough. when i was in america, i felt like i could pass, having assimilated, but i’m not american at all, so why would i be american enough. that’s why i have hesitate sometimes to claim that i’m a hong kong musician. i’m proud of the music scene here, and i think i am part of it, but it feels like i’m using my privilege to take up other people’s space sometimes. i mean, all my songs are in english.

i am a stubborn person, and that shows when i work on music. no one can tell me how to make music, and i’m probably bad at taking criticism sometimes. for my own songs at least. there are a few artists i feel so comfortable working with that my defensive self leaves me alone. i like collaborating with other artists on their projects though—i’m quite open-minded in that kind of arrangement. i also love scoring and doing sound design for films/video. i’m less defensive to protect my sense of self in those situations, easier to work with.

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thank you for reading; i’ll be trying to write more :)