THOMAS PODVIN’S FREELANCE WORK
Freelance writer - translator - Editor

In A Lively Mind, Londoner DJ/producer Paul Oakenfold adds more to his sound than just dance club vibes; he includes his experience of the cinema world of sounds and imagery. “Oakie”, in case you didn’t know, is an iconic figure from the late 1980s Trance and Acid House scenes. He was also prominent in the development of Ibiza as a clubbers paradise. Resident in L.A. ever since his monumental US tour in 2001, Oakenfold quite obviously mingles with the jet set and cinema crowd. Between remixes for Madonna and U2, he worked on the soundtracks of Swordfish, Planet of the Apes, The Matrix and Collateral. It makes sense, then, that A Lively Mind (three years in the making) draws its influences from the cinematic and social environment of Hollywood. Take the heavy beat laden “Sex ‘N Money” which evokes the superficiality of La-la land. Or the torrid first single, and homage to Russ Meyer, “Faster Kill Pussycat” to which Sin City actress Brittany Murphy lends her voice. At 43, with three movie scores currently under development, the Brit DJ is certainly exploring new horizons. After shaking the planet with phenomenal electronic sound for the past fifteen years, that Oakenfold is looking to the future should come as no surprise. Still, this is a matter of taste. A number of critics have faulted this release, including that bible of sound, Billboard: “With nods to rock, dance, hip-hop and electronica, Oakenfold has created an eclectic song collection that does not always jell. While there are moments of pure bliss (the New Order-hued “No Compromise” featuring Spitfire), too many tracks meander aimlessly without finding the perfect beat.” To each his own.
Fairwood Music

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
July 2006 issue

Steven D. Levitt, dubbed “the Indiana Jones of economics” by The Wall Street Journal, is a so-called ‘rogue’ economist. In this 2005 bestseller Freakonomics (co-authored by writer/journalist Stephen J. Dubner), the University of Chicago Professor applies economic theory to a series of diverse, and apparently, non-economic, topics. His essays cover everything from cheating sumo wrestlers to the business of drug dealing; in addition, he presents his well-known theory: “The Impact of Legalized Abortion on Crime.” In this paper, Levitt seeks to demonstrate (through endless statistics) that the legalization of abortion in the US was followed 20 years later by a reduction in crime. Well researched and documented, Levitt’s work has led to a re-examination of the way economic theory can be applied to sundry social issues, and, along the way, stirred much controversy. The author expresses his desire to replace “moral posturing by an honest assessment of the data, because only numbers will scrub away layers of confusion and contradiction”. For the most part, largely due to the author’s jargon-free prose, he succeeds in peeling back at least several of these layers.
Penguin Books

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Chief editor: Steven Crane
July 2006 issue

In Cantonese, gweilo means “ghost man”, a somewhat derogatory piece of slang referring to Caucasian males. However, its use is so prevalent in Hong Kong, that even Westerners employ it to describe each other. This ambivalent approach to the issue of race and culture is central to author Martin Booth’s memoirs of his early childhood. Booth’s family arrived in Hong Kong in 1952 (his father was a civilian employee of the Royal Navy) and for the next three years, young Martin set about exploring every nook and cranny of the colony, then a sleepy outpost of the British Empire. In his book, he vividly recounts his daily adventures, from exploring the darkest reaches of the infamous Kowloon Walled City, to defending his father from an angry mob by surprising them with Cantonese obscenities. While at times Booth’s writing can be overly novelistic, his entertaining voice and lively tales bring to life a Hong Kong forever gone. That said, the book ends with a sad footnote. Booth wrote Gweilo after he was diagnosed with brain cancer, completing the work just before he passed away in February, 2004. For readers though, the author’s past will never be lost.
Bantam Books/Transworld

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
July 2006 issue

http://nippop.com

Much like the country itself, Japanese music is as intriguing as it is puzzling. Every month, new aidoru (Japanese idols) are presented to the general public; in the main, manufactured stars about as fresh as three-day old sushi. With the press giving blanket coverage to these teen icons, it is difficult to delve deeper into the talent rich world of Japanese music. Enter nippop.com, an English database of artists offering profiles, photos, biographies, as well as regular columns on Japanese pop culture. Launched in January 2005 by three gaijin (foreigners) with insider knowledge of the music industry (former Tower Records Japan CEO Keith Cahoon; former YesAsia.com Japan General Manager Bill Haw; and Billboard’s Asia bureau chief Steve McClure), the site claims to be “the world’s best English-language resource on Japanese music”. This may be a slight exaggeration, but where else on the Internet (in English, at least) can you find everything you ever wanted to know about acts like Malice Mizer, Guitar Wolf and Dir En Grey?

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
July 2006 issue

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com

Much like Shanghai, the Big Apple is an astonishing mélange of cultures from around the world; a city where anything can happen, and anything and everything can be said – and heard. Established in July 2003, overheardinnewyork.com shows New York at its coarsest and weirdest, by presenting everyday street conversations in the form of anecdotal quotes. This hugely entertaining blog is run by contributors S. Morgan Friedman and Jenny Weiss, supported by various friends, street spies, and a city of eight million eavesdroppers. It delivers quirky, surrealistic and irreverent wisecracks on race, sex, fashion, relationships and NY life, voiced in tones the rawer the better by people who live there: white collar workers, hip girls, beggars, kids, tourists, drunkards and the rest. Here’s an appetizer: “The quality of life here is so bad ... I mean, if you enjoy drinking all night and having random sex, you’ll like living in New York.” Sounds just like home.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
July 2006 issue

“As a common intellectual, I feel responsible to show the reality of my country and its contradictions – especially the tribulations of people,” declares Beijing film director Wang Chao. Tribulations aside, Wang’s third film, Luxury Car (LC), is not just another bleak social-realist take on modern China. This last entry in Wang’s thought-provoking trilogy (The Orphan of Anyang; Night and Day) won the ‘Prix Un Certain Regard – Fondation Gan’ at Cannes this May. And deservedly so: Luxury Car is Wang’s most personal work, inspired by his own tribulations. As such, it concerns failure, fatalism and the absurdity of the human condition, all of which have been at the heart of his triptych. This film, however, goes deeper; it is dedicated to his family, and to a wider extent, all Chinese parents.

“I’m the unworthy son of wonderful parents,” says the 42-year-old, Nanjing-born filmmaker as if he needed to justify his motive for making the film. Like many a modern Chinese youth, Wang left home for the big city to study, and eventually further his career. Typically, he now looks back upon his roots with sentimentality. In the early 1990s, he entered Beijing Film Academy, later working as an assistant to Chen Kaige, and he’s since made the capital his base for his own successful films. In the meantime, though, he neglected his parents, visiting them just twice in a decade. Sadly, in 2005, he became aware that his mother had terminal cancer; indeed, that she had been under treatment for some time. Wang’s relatives had concealed her illness from him so as not to distract him from his work. To Wang’s regret. In a society where “families suffer the negative effects of distance, setbacks and the inability to help each other”, he feels that fundamental values have been lost.

Which goes a long way in explaining why family miscommunication is a central theme in his latest film. Luxury Car, a Sino/French co-production tells the story of a retired country teacher who comes to Wuhan to look for his son. With the help of his daughter, a prostitute, he tries to fulfill his wife’s last wish (she is terminally ill), which is to see her son one last time. What follows is a moving exploration of the generation gap, and the erosion of traditional family values. In the modern world, it seems anything and everything is subject to market forces, even the members of one’s own family. As such, the film is an apologia, an attempt by Wang to make amends for all the years he dedicated to his own advancement at the expense of his family. In other words, this work articulates the director’s need for atonement, in a world where, as he puts it, “progress also means there’s a cruel price to pay”.

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
July 2006 issue

Competition in the Chinese entertainment industry is so intense, that were it permitted, agents would scout maternity wards for the next sweet young thing. Indeed, ‘the younger the better’ might could be the modus operandi for the companies like the Emperor Entertainment Group (EEG), that is if its recent discovery, rising superstar Isabella Leong Lok-Si, is at all representative.

EEG is a Hong Kong-based artist management/record company that courts the youth market with its hand-picked assets, including such heartthrobs as the Twins, Edison Chen and Nicolas Tse. The company recruited Leong at the age of 12, and has since taken the former teen model and groomed her for a spot on the A-list.

Some might say the market is already saturated with product (especially now the amateurs have entered the idol competition), but in Leong’s case, she was in the right place, at the right moment, with the right attributes. She’s tall (172 centimeters), beautiful (wide forehead, large eyes and perfect complexion) and talented. And a touch exotic. Indeed, in China she’s been dubbed Xiao Zhang Bai Zhi (young Cecilia Cheung), in reference to the actresses shared profession and, no doubt, their mixed blood (Cheung’s mother is half English half Chinese). “I am half Chinese, half Portuguese, and half English,” says the 18 year old starlet. Meaning, of course, a third of each.

Since signing Leong in 2000, EGG has done much to expand her visibility (TV, music, film and stage) and, of course, bankability. At 16, she’d already released an EP (Isabella), made several guest performances at the Hong Kong Hung Hom coliseum and won various awards (Guangzhou Radio Golden Hits Awards; Yahoo! Hong Kong Buzz Awards). In 2005, at seventeen, she made her film debut in Law Chi-leung’s Bugs Me Not!, for which she was nominated Best New Performer at the 42nd Golden Horse Awards and the 25th Hong Kong Film Awards. Later that same year, her sophomore movie, the Pang Brothers’ psycho-thriller The Eye 10 was released, while she was in Macao shooting Isabella a Media Asia production helmed by Edmond Pang Ho-cheung. She also played a supporting role (a fiery urchin) in Jeff Lau’s A Chinese Tall Story.

In addition, as of the end of last year, Leong had appeared in 20 TV commercials and print advertisements (Coca Cola, Maybelline Cosmetics) and won more awards (e.g., Guangzhou TV Station Great Potential Newcomer). Not bad for someone who at the time had yet to blow out 18 candles.

That said, the actress’ stand-out performance was in the art house film Isabella, wherein she was more than a pretty young face; indeed, she proved her acting chops in a performance that one critic called “compelling and genuinely impressive”.

While Leong didn’t take home an award for her effort, following the film’s screening at the Berlin Film Festival last February, Chinese music composer Peter Kam won the Best Film Music Silver Bear, vying against celebrated composers like James Horner (The New World, Braveheart) or Klaus Badelt (Wu Ji). One might argue that other honors were due. The film is clearly different from the usual Hong Kong fare; its pace, aesthetic, music, and emotional and lyrical mood are unusually thoughtful and well-crafted.

Shot entirely on location in Macao, the low budget (USD 1.3 million; RMB 8 million) Isabella takes place on the eve of the Portuguese-governed territory’s return to Chinese sovereignty. The plot concerns a thirty-something, womanizing cop, Shing (Chapman To, who also co-produced), suspended for corruption. In a chance encounter, he meets Yan (Leong), the daughter he never knew he had. Yan insists on living under his roof, challenges his girlfriends and generally disrupts his life. The film’s title does not refer to its leading actress, rather to Yan’s runaway dog. She and her father search for it, and in the process become acquainted, but, of course, they never find it. The pooch is a metaphor – Yan’s last link to her late mother and the yet-to-be-found connection with her newly-discovered dad.

Pang, whose style of direction was described by Variety as “a mixture of Claude Lelouch and Wong Kar-wai”, offers more depth and subtexts than this simple synopsis may suggest; for Pang, Macao’s historical significance is as a symbol of the clash between the culture of East and West, and as such, appropriate for this story of long lost daughter reuniting with her father.
Leong’s personal history was also significant in her winning the role, as it parallels that of the character she plays. Born in Hong Kong in 1988, she was raised in Macao and suffered the loss of a parent. Says Pang: “Her personal experience made her the perfect candidate for this part.”

Pang also stresses that the title is in no way meant to promote the actress, insisting that the choice was nothing more than coincidence. “We cast Isabella long before I decided on the title,” says the 33-year-old director, who claims he did not write the script with Leong in mind. “I liked her name, and later found its meaning [God’s promise] matched the theme of my film.”

Leong agrees that her character in the film “resembles me in a lot of respects”. And she drew on her personal experience (the death of her father in Macao, for example) when playing the part. “My personal experience was important for my performance,” she says. ”A lot of memories just came back; I always felt depressed there and quickly sensed the character’s state of mind.”

Both Pang and Leong say the shoot was an emotional one, intensified, perhaps, by To’s physical resemblance to Leong’s late father. A resemblance that was a little too close to reality.

“When I cried [on the set],” says Leong, “it wasn’t acting; it was natural emotion.” An emotion that Pang encouraged, advising the actress not to analyze her character.

As a result, Isabella works; the drama is poignant, and the sentiments appear genuine, which greatly benefits the overall mood of the film. Leong’s performance is surprisingly mature for a young, and relatively inexperienced, actress. At 17, she captures the essence of a rebellious-cum-ingenuous and fatherless girl.

In past roles, Leong’s directors seem entranced by her charm, youth and freshness; yet only Pang has managed to capture her teen angst and bring out an exceptional performance. Says Pang: “Though I didn’t get the chance to watch Leong’s previous movies, I realized she really exceeded herself with her performance in Isabella.”

Indeed, Pang thought Leong a shoe-in for the Best Actress Award in Berlin. Though Leong appeared more concerned about an outbreak of acne than her chance to win the top award. In fact, she behaved as a typical teenager, joking that “I’ve never had a pimple in my life. Perhaps the festival has disrupted my hormones.”

Leong, didn’t win, of course, but the festival did provide plenty of exposure, and considerable international respect. Film critic Tim Youngs wrote that “[Leong] displays considerable range in her first leading dramatic role, exuding a rough edge and displaying believable emotion.”

In the wake of such acclaim, Leong has received a number of offers, some of which may provide equally good roles. Or not, as the case may be. However, two are worth mentioning. One is High Tea, in which Leong is cast opposite fellow EEG star Deep Ng and the veteran Hong Kong actor Kenneth Tsang. Here, Leong plays a young adventurous kung-fu expert involved in a hunt for lost treasure. Part Da Vinci Code, part Mission Impossible, this promising action movie was shot in Shanghai and Europe early this summer by Spanish B-movie director Germán Monzó. Those of you fortunate enough to have caught Monzó’s very amusing exploitation film, Kibris, which artfully combined choreographed high kicks and long-toothed vampires, at the 2005 Shanghai film festival will have an idea of what to expect.

Leong has made several public statements expressing her desire to take on challenging roles, including that of a prostitute. That aim has yet to materialize; in the meantime, however, Leong has agreed to take on a rather daring role in Taiwanese filmmaker’s Zhou Mei Ling’s Tattoo. Currently in production, it is the story of a half-Japanese/half-Taiwanese tattoo artist (Leong) and her relationship with another woman, played by the pretty Taiwanese idol Rainie Yang. Leong’s management was concerned (before later agreeing) that such a role might tarnish her image. For two reasons. The first is obvious – lesbian roles are not the stuff of mainstream box office. The second less so: Leong’s co-star is just as young and cute as Leong herself. That said, Leong is hardly one to worry about the competition.

-- SIDE BOX --
In praise of youth
“Isabella’s like a piece of white paper. Her naturalness is a virtue hard to get from mature [self-conscious] actresses. I hope she can always keep her intuition.”
– Hong Kong filmmaker
Law Chi-leung.

“… One of the most naturally gifted young actresses to have emerged in Hong Kong in recent years. She found it a little hard to memorize all her lines in the beginning [of Bugs Me Not!], but managed to overcome that by sheer hard work. Her single-mindedness was simply astonishing!”
– Emperor Motion Pictures CEO
Albert Lee.

“She has the opportunity to be one of the important actresses of her generation.”
– Hong Kong filmmaker
Pang Ho-cheung.

“It seems to me that Isabella’s an actress with a promising future ahead”.
– Spanish filmmaker
Germán Monzó.



(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
Photo courtesy Hugo Hu www.huphoto.cdd.cn.
July 2006 issue

(c) that's PRD
PRD Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
July 2006 issue

In Isabella, Pang Ho-cheung, known in Chinese entertainment circles as a deadpan comedy director, tries something completely different: family drama. The plot concerns a cop based in Macao (Chapman To), a bachelor whose personal and professional life is a mess. One fine day he meets a young woman (Isabella Leong), who claims to be the daughter of a girlfriend he impregnated sixteen years ago. Pang spends on average a full year to complete a movie, extremely slow by Hong Kong standards. But not by Western standards, especially considering that Pang acts as director, writer and producer on most of his films. In Isabella, Pang’s sixth film, he combines drama and nostalgia, with a dash of comedy in a highly-stylized personal flick. The visuals, as always with this thirty-something filmmaker, are stunning. But his most impressive achievement here is to push both lead actors – 17 year-old teen idol Leong and legendary comedian To – to deliver the greatest performances of their careers. With help from a solid supporting cast, Isabella offers depth and genuine emotions in one of the best Hong Kong dramas released in years.
Media Asia

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
June 2006 issue

Of late, most Chinese films fall in one of two categories: the flashy blockbuster or the intellectual art-house flick (in the main, aimed at the foreign film festival market). You and Me is no blockbuster, nor is it another dreary grab for offshore recognition. This film pleases both domestic and Western audiences. Produced on a small budget, You and Me relates the conflicting coexistence between a sharp, elderly widow and her young, bullheaded tenant. The deceptively simple plot – the landlady rents her dilapidated Beijing siheyuan for an excessive fee to the student – takes place in a single locale over four seasons, and is devoted to the pair’s daily clash of wills (wonderfully illustrating the Chinese saying: ‘two tigresses cannot stay on the same mountain’). Ma draws on her own experience as a student at the Central Drama Academy in the 1990s, and the story is full of deadpan humor, sparks of tension and bursts of non-contrived emotions. There are no extravagant twists or cliff-hangers here; the accent is on detail (despite the limited budget the film is exquisitely lit). You and Me may not have earned millions in box office receipts, but it does prove that a simple human story is at the heart of good filmmaking.
Beijing Film Studio

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Chief editor: Steven Crane
June 2006 issue

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PRD Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
June 2006 issue

In the midst of the Korean War, a US Navy pilot and five Korean soldiers – from both sides of the conflict – arrive at a peaceful village inhabited by some rather strange peasants, who are completely unaware there’s a war in progress. The plot may suggest an offbeat comedy, but this 133 minute film is an exercise in disappointment. The main problem is that the director wavers between fantasy and reality, never choosing a side. Once the initial surprise is exhausted – the military’s discovery of the village – the film descends into a series of predictable, hackneyed situations. True, the eccentricities of the villagers, do, on occasion, add some much-needed spice, but overall the characters are so obviously contrived that much of the humor is lost. As is the viewers goodwill; Welcome poses as a fable, but at the same time pretends to present historical reality. The result is a naïve and bogus representation of the relations between North and South Korea, and the US. Having said that, Park Kwang-hyeon’s directorial debut, the fourth-highest grossing South Korean movie of all time, was the country’s official entry in last year’s Oscars.
Showbox

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Chief editor: Steven Crane
June 2006 issue

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PRD Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
June 2006 issue

That a TV-series concerning gambling and corruption is exciting should come as no surprise. Throw in a crack surveillance team under the leadership of a former CIA agent assigned to spy on Las Vegas’ most prestigious casino and audiences are sure to tune in. But Gary Scott Thompson’s (The Fast and the Furious) series surpasses all expectations: the show is bright, ultra-cool, fast-paced and – classy. It also offers an insider’s view of the trade secrets in this sinful tourist mecca. The elite surveillance team is led by veteran actor Golden-Globe/Academy-Awards nominee James Caan (The Godfather, Rollerball), who along with his protégés – a former US Marine and three babes – deal with card-counting cheats; the mob; big spenders; luck, good and bad; inter-casino rivalries, and their own rollercoaster love lives. All of which provides a surfeit of thrills, romance and humor. Each episode begins with a marvelous hook: a one-take-only prologue, neatly wrapped in dazzling visuals. That alone is enough to engage audiences for the duration, but special guest stars (Black Eyed Peas, Sylvester Stallone, Pussycat Dolls…) ensure a long and, in this case, rewarding addiction to vice.
NBC

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Chief editor: Steven Crane
June 2006 issue

Compared to their Chinese counterparts, Korean filmmakers aren’t very adept at making martial art films (see Musa or The Duelist). And Shadowless Sword provides yet another conspicuous example of what not to do. This film was shot in China, enjoyed a large budget and has excellent production values. Trouble is, it lacks authenticity without which audiences just don’t care about the characters. Or the mise en scene: in 926 AD, following the assassination of the Prince of Balhae, a female warrior is assigned to escort Prince Dae back from his 14-year exile, to ascend the throne and restore order to the kingdom. The rest is filler. In his sophomore film, Kim Yeong-joon delivers a simplistic road movie cum buddy movie/romance/martial art film. One littered with predictable twists and monotonous dialogues. Despite the film’s many faults, the camerawork is quite breathtaking, and the climax is almost worth waiting for. But the choreographed action sequences merely duplicate scenes from its betters, so-called gems of the genre like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and House of Flying Daggers.
CJ Entertainment

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Chief editor: Steven Crane
June 2006 issue

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PRD Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
June 2006 issue

Although popular with audiences, Hong Kong comedies have never really been highly praised by critics on the Chinese mainland. These films are at worst considered shallow, lowbrow, amusement, and at best, the source of a few guilt-inducing guffaws. 2 Become 1 may not be a revolutionary departure from this genre, but it does provide more substance than is the norm, enough to last beyond the theater exit door. The plot concerns a young, independent woman, Bingo (Miriam Yeung), who works as a ‘creative’ at an advertisement company. Her carefree chuppie lifestyle is turned upside down after a laid back doctor (Richie Jen) discovers a lump in her breast. Produced by seasoned filmmaker Johnnie To, renowned for his commercial comedies and ‘auteur’ gangster flicks, the film uses comedy to deal with serious matters indeed: breast tumors; cancer prevention; male impotency; women in today’s corporate world, and so on. Of course, the film offers the usual sight gags and the usual broad commercial reach with two big name leads, a pop music score, and not least, the screen debut of Hong Kong’s singer/songwriter superstar of the month, Justin Lo. Nevertheless, 2 Become 1 proves HK comedies can convey universal themes with maturity and if not tact, at least some understanding.
Media Asia

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Chief editor: Steven Crane
June 2006 issue

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PRD Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
June 2006 issue

Jem, aka Jemma Griffiths, must be the envy of every British musician. In a very short period, she sold a quarter of a million albums in the US, and became the biggest selling British female debut artist last year. Indeed, breaking stateside is no small accomplishment. It happened thus: the 29-year-old Cardiff-born singer/songwriter was studying law at Sussex University while hanging out with DJs and music producers. Next, in the autumn of 2003, she went behind the mike and recorded the EP “It All Starts Here”. A year later, she released her debut CD, Finally Woken, and got a big boost from Elton John, who touted its breezy melodies and diverse rhythms. And he was right. Jem’s catchy sound is easy on the ear and wide-ranging: “Finally Woken”, has emotional trip hop beats; “Wish I”, playful electronic melodies; “Save Me” and “24”, reggae and rock tempos, respectively; and “Missing You” boasts some fine fuzz-box vocals à la Portishead. Jem’s sound is eclectic and fits into any medium. Which is why she succeeded in the US mass market. In the States, you can hear her everywhere: on the radio, on TV (The O.C.; Desperate Housewives; Six Feet Under), and in the movies (Closer, 2004 and Ultraviolet, 2006).
Sony-BMG

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
June 2006 issue

(c) that's PRD
PRD Chief editor: Christopher Cottrell
June 2006 issue

There’s not much to be said about Shanghai ‘alternative’ band Cold Fairyland, that hasn’t been said already. Most every music critic in the country has taken a stab at pigeonholing this band, but the band, and its front woman Lindi, refuse to cooperate. The best we can offer is that Cold Fairyland thinks out of the box. The band – Lindi on keyboard and pipa; Su Yong on bass; Zhou Sheng’an on cello; Li Jia on drums; and Song Jianfeng on guitar – incorporates elements of various music genres (world music, gothic, jazz, funk, dream pop, etc.,) with traditional and contemporary Chinese sounds. And they do it best live, not in the studio. Hence, this live album recorded at ARK in Xintiandi in 2005, is Cold Fairyland at its best, from the surrealistic “The Cat from Paris” to the social commentary of “The Dead Children in the Newspapers”. But whatever the song’s provenance, Lindi’s vocals drive the melody from beginning to end with a meticulous precision. Unfortunately, the live recording sometimes suffers from less accurate reproduction – the price of independence, perhaps.
Cold Fairyland/available at www.miyadudu.com

(c) that's Shanghai Magazine
Chief editor: Steven Crane
June 2006 issue