(2 of 2)
As I took the stage on Day 1 and looked out on 3,000 soggy revelers, an electric charge ran through me--literally. The amps were not properly grounded, and my fingers on the fret board responded like tongues on the posts of nine-volt batteries. The Korean stage crew shrugged its apologies, and we started our set. The rain reached a peak during our second song, but the crowd's spirits were not dampened. Heads banged, a few brave souls surfed the crowd, and we managed not to pass out from oxygen deprivation.
On Day 2 the crowd swelled to more than twice the size of the previous day's; with ticket prices slashed, whole families from the environs of Lijiang turned up. I caught only one whiff of dope smoke--even though cannabis grows wild all over Yunnan province. But the cops just downwind didn't seem to notice. They nodded to the beat; some even risked the occasional fist pump.
Not all the locals were happy about the festival. Xuan Ke, venerable patriarch of the Naxi Ancient Music Orchestra, griped, "Our very calm mountain will be changed, destroyed by this loud music." In the end, though, the mountain tolerated our intrusion. The music was good and loud. The fans rocked the night away, and as the sun came up the future looked bright for Chinese rock.
Kaiser Kuo co-founded the heavy-metal band Tang Dynasty and plays guitar for the Beijing band Spring and Autumn