Earlier this winter, I had the chance to perform Laowai (Foreigner) Style, my viral internet song, on the Chinese television show “Beijing Guest.” While I was initially nervous about singing and dancing on stage, the chance to perform my song proved to be too exciting to resist. I was lured on stage. I wanted to use this opportunity to highlight how I hoped Laowai Style could break down stereotypes about what foreigners are like in China. And so, I found myself on a TV stage with the director of the program counting down, “Three… two… one… action!”
It was only then, at the exact moment that we began filming, did I realize what in hindsight should have been immediately obvious: I was alone by myself on stage, and I had four and a half minutes of time to burn while singing. Lights bombarded me from all sides, and the music rang loud through the studio. What should I do?
After singing the first verse standing still, I realized that the only way to make it interesting for the audiences watching on TV would be to act a bit wilder. So I jumped up and down, went over to the other studio guests and danced right in front of them. I swung an invisible lasso near the show’s hosts and the judges who had been invited to see my performance. I strode straight up to the camera and lived out my suburban rap star dreams by shouting my lyrics into the camera an inch away from the lens.
Afterwards, I was completely spent — cavorting around the stage was more tiring than I’d expected. But it certainly did get the attention of the hosts and the judges, who on the whole were very supportive of my performance, despite its unplanned nature. The hosts asked me about my Xiangsheng research and asked me for the meaning behind Laowai Style. I did my best to express my thoughts on how Beijing is a more international city than decades past. It is not inconceivable that there could be someone like my character from the song — just a regular guy who’s a laowai.
The show was broadcast in December and uploaded to the internet in January. When it came out, I took the chance to subtitle the video myself and share it on YouTube with my friends in America. Otherwise, they wouldn’t understand the hosts of the show or the judges’ opinions.
I can’t help but smile. Sure, the show is silly, and sure, there are a lot of foreigners who have had the chance to go on Chinese TV and sing a song. But I still felt proud about my performance. Even if it’s a small step, I felt that my message about connecting China and the West through comedy shone through in my silly dancing and singing. And at the end of the day, I think the show made some people laugh, and that was a success in itself.
这个冬天的早些时候,我有机会在中国的电视节目“北京客”中表演“老外Style”,我那首在网络被疯传的歌曲。当我对在舞台上又唱又跳感到一种最初的紧张时,这个能够展现我的歌曲的机会被证明是太令人兴奋了以至不能拒绝。我对舞台感到诱惑。我想利用这个机会来强调我是如何希望“老外风格”这首歌能打破一直以来在中国的外国人的一成不变的印象。所以,我发现自己出现在电视舞台上,导演开始倒计时“3…2…1…开拍!”
就在那时,在我们开始拍摄的准确的那一刻起,我才意识到在事后立刻显而易见的问题:我是一个人自己在舞台上,当我唱歌的时候,我有四分半钟的时间要耗掉。灯光从四面八方照亮我,从演播室传来的音乐非常大声。我该怎么办?
站在原地唱了第一节后,我意识到,唯一能让电视机前的观众觉得有意思的办法就是我表现得野性一点。所以我跳上跳下,走近其他演播室的嘉宾,在他们面前跳舞。我仿佛摇晃着一根看不见的套索,在节目的主持人和被邀请来看我的表演的裁判之间。我大步直接走向摄像头,在离镜头一英寸远的地方大声嘶喊着歌词,实现着我郊区说唱明星的梦想。
那之后,我彻底精疲力竭了,在舞台上跳来跳去比我预期的更加令人感到疲累。但是,它确实吸引了主持人和裁判的注意,他们基本上非常支持我的表现,尽管它看起来无计划性。主持人问我关于相声的研究,问我在“老外风格”背后的意义。我尽我所能地表达我的想法:相比过去数十年,北京是一个更国际化的城市。可以想象,在歌里有一个和我性格相似的人:老外,只是一个普通的人。
该节目在十二月播出,一月被上传到互联网上。当它出来的时候,我有机会自己来给视频做字幕,并在YouTube上和我在美国的朋友分享。否则,他们不会明白节目主持人或者裁判的意见。
我不禁笑了起来。当然,这个节目是愚蠢的,而且毫无疑问,也有很多的外国人有机会在中国的电视上出现并且唱一首歌。但我还是为我的表现感到骄傲。即使是一小步,我感觉到了我想通过我傻傻的舞蹈和歌唱表现出来的喜剧以连接中国和西方的讯息。在那一天结束的时候,我觉得我的表演让有些人笑了,这本身就是成功。