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When on 29 December James Zhu (Chu) invited his Facebook friends to a small New Year’s Eve concert at his recording studio, I immediately RSVP’d in the positive. At Zhudong Park earlier in the month on a freezing night, Jacky and James had only sung two songs each, and with the album launch apparently postponed until later this year, I thought they were unlikely to do anything before our imminent return to Australia that would compare to their epic Ximen Red House concert in January last year. Last night’s ‘unplugged’ concert proved I was wrong.

First, we had to find the venue and get there on time. I knew from some previous reconaissance that the Luosifu (Roosevelt) Road studio must be quite small, and it appeared from the Facebook responses that about 25 to 30 fans wanted to attend. So I concluded unless we wanted to sit on the floor or out in the corridor–or even be denied entry altogether–we’d better get there early. So, for a 4 pm start, V and I turned up at the building at 3.45. The doorman seemed bemused to have to deal with two wai guo ren who were asking about entry to the third floor. He insisted on escorting us up to the very door of the suite. He rang the bell and the door was opened by James himself!

I had seen James perform live twice before, but always during winter in heavy clothing, and face to face he seemed a little shorter and much slighter than he did on stage, with small, neat, mobile hands. James seemed at first nonplussed by our sudden invasion of his terrain, but then he recognised us from the Zhudong Park concert. I said we were great fans and he shook hands with both of us. He added that he hadn’t quite finished rehearsing and asked if we could come back at 4.30. (We could hear the sweet strains of an acoustic guitar in the background). V explained why we had come so early, and we apologised for interrupting his rehearsal, and we took our leave. (It turned out I had missed a Facebook update that said the concert had been rescheduled to begin at 4.30 pm).

After a sojourn at a nearby coffee shop, we rolled in at 4.30 exactly, only to find all the actual seats–some storage boxes pulled into a row–were taken. But there were two spaces left up on a wide window ledge, so with a bit of heaving and hauling, we managed to clamber up there. The ledge proved to be an excellent vantage point. I wound up sitting next to a very pleasant woman in my age bracket, while other friends or family members of hers, including a very cute little girl, were also occupying positions farther along the ledge. A similar ledge to our left had been taken over by a group of young women in heavy makeup, dressed to kill: this type of fan, however, were in the minority (and those girls may have been far nicer than they appeared). In front of us there were two young couples, some additional but more sweet looking teens or twenty-something girls, and a couple of young guys. Then an old gent, dressed in an old fashioned suit and hat came in, and everyone on the storage boxes squeezed up to give him a seat, with one of the young couples finally electing to sit on the grand piano bench.

James Zhu (Chu) and Daniel Cheng at Luosifu Road studio

So when by V’s count 22 of us were present, seated, with a few more standing, James, wearing casual clothes and a baseball cap with an enormous bill that shaded his face, sat down next the guitarist, the quiet, serious looking Daniel Cheng (鄭志堅). (James later explained the cap was to cover up a bad haircut). James said in Chinese that he preferred singing in small intimate settings like this one with an acoustic backing and no microphone.

He then sang several soft, romantic ballads in Chinese and English, and one in Cantonese. These included two songs he had written himself: a rollicking one in English, called Good Morning, Baby and a poignant one about coffee in Chinese. Before singing the coffee song, he called out to me and V in English, asking if we liked coffee, and V answered with considerable aplomb in Chinese that she did indeed ‘xihuan‘. Did she drink it every day? he probed. She admitted she did. James said he himself loved coffee and he reminisced about frequenting the original Starbucks when he was a student several years ago in Seattle. His coffee song was both tuneful and charming, about relationships. ‘I want the kafei you want me to want,’ ran the chorus.

To sing with no backing vocals and no special effects to the strains of a single guitar is a courageous act; everything is transparent, every mistake is obvious and there is nowhere to hide. James does not have a big voice, but his phrasing was so musical, his intonation so pinpoint accurate and his delivery so heartfelt that he had everyone captivated. He even managed to carry off a nuanced cover of I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas, even though Christmas was well and truly over and everyone was very tired of endless festive music loops played in local businesses– including the local Starbucks’ mindbogglingly tedious ones.

‘Schmaltzy, but very good,’ I commented to V about White Christmas. ‘All his songs are schmaltzy,’ she responded. She added she had no expectations that he would ever sing anything darker. I, on the other hand, being partial to romantic ballads and acoustic, folkloric songs and so was truly enthralled.

At one point after a short break, a big thickset man in track pants and t-shirt came in: he looked like a bouncer. But James called him Da Shi (大師) and I gathered he was high up in the hierarchy of the studio and possibly a mentor to James. And so the poor couple sitting on the piano bench had to relinquish it and the ‘bouncer’ then sat down and joined Daniel in accompanying James on the piano for two numbers, including James’s sensitive rendition of Almost Over You. Then he wandered off again, first hoisting up the piano bench on high and handing it back over the heads of the front row to the couple who had been sitting on it previously.

About 5.45, the outer door suddenly opened, and in strode Jacky. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, a cardigan, Buddy Holly specs and a hat: the cool nerd. I was at once reminded of that line from the eerie True Blood theme song, ‘When you came in/the air went out’. Of course everyone looked at him.

James looked over and called out in English,’ Sold out! You can’t come in!’

Jacky quipped in Chinese that he had not actually entered yet.

‘You need a ticket!’ growled James.

‘I’ll sneak in without one,’ responded Jacky in Chinese.

So Jacky finally came in and leaned against a wall to listen. I wondered how many songs he would allow James to sing before he interrupted. The answer: about two and a half. In the middle of a ballad where James had shown signs of floundering with the lyrics, he held up a hand and told the guitarist to stop  and he took it over, as if showing everyone how the song should be sung. James took this in a very good natured way. I think he is somehow not jealous of his famous and flamboyant younger brother; he seems proud of him. And as V later pointed out, they are very used to collaborating with each other and exchanging a lot of banter while they do so. Jacky soared through the melody with his strong, colourful voice and James obliged by singing backing vocals.

From left: James Zhu (Chu), Daniel Cheng and Jacky Zhu (Chu) at Luosifu Road

Jacky went on to sing a cover of the Fish Leong classic Ye,Ye, Ye, Ye that he had recently sung brilliantly with an orchestra on TTV daytime television.  Last night he delivered it in a very hammy and operatic way, very loudly, filling the room with his big voice and outsize personality. Despite his familiarity with the song, he somehow forgot the lyrics at one point but was soon prompted by James and the audience. James sang in harmony during the two of the choruses. V managed to videotape it with her new camera and here it is:

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Soon Jacky announced he had to leave to go to another engagement, and all the girls in the front row, including at least one who was part of a couple, and all the girls on the other ledge, followed him and wanted their photos taken with him. He happily obliged, draping an arm around each one in turn, and turning on his megawatt smile. James had to wait patiently while all this was going on. V and I stayed up on our ledge, aloof from all this carry on, and I smiled encouragingly at James.

Once Jacky had departed, it did not take long for us to be drawn in once more by James’s quiet, meditative singing. Finally around 7 pm he announced the very last song, sang it sounding somewhat tired but no one in the audience moved an inch. James then said he was prepared to sing some encores but first he had to go to the loo. The atmosphere in the studio was like an informal family gathering and so I think everyone thought this was amusing rather than embarrassing. In fact, James had to join a queue for his own loo, other fans having gone in there ahead of him. So first he put on Zai Yi Bian, one of 183 Club’s hit ballads, on his laptop during this hiatus. V confirmed this was a song he himself had written and probably produced. When he came back out, he sang it live, but admitted to having become fuzzy on the words. We fans sang along to cover the gaps, with V much more solid on the lyrics than I was.

Before long James’s mobile rang, and  I heard him address someone as ‘Ba’. James confirmed the call was from his father and he said he would definitely have to wrap up the concert. He concluded by saying that of all the performances he had given this year, this one made him feel the happiest and most comfortable. I as a fan felt that way, too. The relaxed and friendly atmosphere framed careful and professional delivery of the songs. There is something about how James conveyed the inner spirit of lyrics and melody that transcended his lack of vocal power and reached his listeners, compelling their attention and cementing their loyalty.

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