Chapter 15: They Know Nothing About Music.

Page (1/3)

The war of words continued to escalate.

More and more voices appeared on the forum, until nearly half the music scene had begun poking its head out in curiosity.

The IDs joining the discussion also carried more and more weight.

After all, leaving everything else aside, “Chick Chick” really was absurdly addictive. Its spread was simply too fast.

It could easily be called a runaway hit.

Lin Feng, however, was already finding the whole discussion unbearable.

He glanced at Li Can, who remained perfectly composed, and muttered inwardly:

What a bunch of monkeys. Nothing could be more ridiculous.

It was as if the Buddha himself had entered the game as a chess piece, sitting back with a smile as the monkeys fought among themselves, while the whole world watched for amusement.

“If I had praised it as some kind of groundbreaking art, then yes, I would deserve the abuse,” Li Can said, spreading his hands. “But I never claimed it was particularly artistic. I just had an idea and thought it would be fun.”

“In my opinion, as long as you aren’t selling dog meat under a sheep’s head, as long as you aren’t deceiving listeners with superficial packaging, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Li Can curled his lips and shook his head dismissively.

As far as he was concerned, there was no problem so long as people did not put on airs and stubbornly promote it under some lofty artistic banner. If you wanted to make shout-rap, then make shout-rap. But if you insisted on pretending it belonged on the highest plane of art, then being scolded was inevitable.

If you dropped the act and did not interfere with other people enjoying themselves, there was really nothing wrong with it.

After all—

Li Can believed that when it came to the theoretical structures used in music, there could be right and wrong, as well as distinctions in quality.

But musical forms and musical styles had never possessed any absolute concept of “correct” or “incorrect.” There was only suitability or unsuitability.

“Brother Feng, have you ever been to some obscure little county town—or to rural villages and townships?” Li Can suddenly asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Or, to put it another way, do you really understand what people need from music, and how they come into contact with it?”

Lin Feng stared at him.

The expression on Li Can’s face told him this was no joke.

If the Li Can of before had always been remarkably relaxed, then he was now just as serious as he had once been carefree.

Page (1/3)

Page (2/3)

Li Can himself had not understood any of this in the past.

He had never cared for viral songs, DJs, or cheesy music.

That changed when he saw his father, after a long day of exhausting work in the kitchen, pick up his phone with grease still covering his hands, play one of the cheesy love songs Li Can had once dismissed, and light a cigarette with an expression of utter contentment.

Having lived two lives and knowing what pressure was, Li Can suddenly understood at that moment what ordinary people truly needed from music.

This world needed not only exquisite cuisine, but also fast food and takeout.

A world made entirely of fine dining would not be good. A world made entirely of takeout would not be good either.

You could never please everyone.

As spiritual sustenance, entertainment naturally occupied different positions and served different groups of people.

“You can’t explain to a migrant worker who spends sixteen hours a day hauling bricks how beautiful classical art is. The reason you can understand its beauty is because you have decades of accumulation and cultivation behind you. That worker can’t do the same. He has a family on his shoulders, and all those mouths still need to be fed.”

“If the internet had never developed, the only music that might have been able to heal them would be the cheesy viral songs playing through the streets and alleyways.”

“They aren’t stupid. They simply don’t have the conditions to advance, or the channels through which to acquire knowledge. In a heavy, oppressive life, the tiny bit of amusement they do have is still dismissed as garbage by certain self-styled intellectuals, condemned as the sorrow of an era and the end of music?”

Lin Feng trembled all over.

The smile that had still lingered on his face faded, replaced by solemnity.

Li Can’s attitude toward music had given Lin Feng an entirely new perspective.

“Everyone has the basic right to enjoy any kind of music. Whether they’re farmers, workers, scholars, or merchants; whether they’re rich or poor; whatever their culture or education, we’re all ordinary people. Don’t create some chain of discrimination and turn it into mutual slaughter at the bottom.”

“When a delivery rider is rushing around to make a living, of course some people will enjoy old songs remixed into high-energy DJ tracks, because they’re exhilarating. Men approaching forty or fifty may enjoy singing catchy melodies at karaoke, because that seemingly old-fashioned music is the youth they’ve lost. You should let them reminisce, not deny that those years ever belonged to them.”

“Go discuss your favorite narrative poems with a foot-massage girl at a massage parlor. Talk to her about the arias you’re best at, or about how Romanticism touches the soul. That won’t make her smile nearly as much as ‘Chick Chick,’ which can briefly drive away the exhaustion of an entire day.”

Li Can’s speech struck Lin Feng’s heart like a machine gun.

Lin Feng had grown up wealthy, excelled in his studies, and possessed extraordinary talent. He was practically a prince living in a castle.

It was easy to imagine how tremendous the impact of those words had to be.

Only now did Lin Feng awaken with a start.

As long as a song met basic professional standards, did not violate moral boundaries, and did not disrupt public order or social decency—

then songs of every style and genre were needed.

Before the modern age, music had always served the powerful, the wealthy, and those who already possessed privilege. Their aim in embracing so-called refined art was to distinguish themselves from the common masses. Since they controlled the definition of refinement, they became the arbiters of taste.

Page (2/3)

Page (3/3)

That said, such refined art truly did possess profound foundations, weighty ideas, and deep knowledge. It was a radiant and indispensable part of the human spirit.

But that did not mean music that failed to reach such heights was worthless garbage that had no right to exist.

“Is life difficult for them? Are they unworthy of enjoying music? You can talk to me about the audience, but don’t you dare get too self-important!”

At this point, Li Can glanced at the computer, where the music critics’ attacks were still displayed.

He could not help but sneer in contempt.

“What do these precious little intellectuals, who have never known hunger, understand about music?”

“Music is life. What kind of music people like and what music they encounter is connected only to their personal lives. This so-called hierarchy of taste is the least important thing of all.”

“Talk about art? They’re nothing but a bunch of clowns! Just wait until Chen Meijing’s ‘Illusory Realm’ goes live. I’ll shut every one of them up. Let’s see how swollen their faces are then!”

Li Can felt as though all the foul air inside him had been expelled. It felt fantastic.

To hell with them.

He would wipe the floor with every last one of them.

There were always people with too much time on their hands who loved making grand pronouncements about songs meant purely for amusement. If they were so obsessed with rigor, why didn’t they go take the graduate entrance exams?

Lin Feng immediately turned to Li Can, deep in thought.

“...So, Brother Can, when exactly did you go get a foot massage?”

“Huh?”

It was finally Li Can’s turn to be stunned. He had never imagined Lin Feng would say that.

“I was only giving an example.”

“Then your example wasn’t rigorous,” Lin Feng said thoughtfully. “How about we go try it sometime?”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Han Jiayin?!” Li Can’s pupils shook violently as he jerked his head up.

“Not at all. It’s called a social experiment.” Lin Feng curled his lips. “...You said earlier that you wouldn’t tell Jiayin, but now everything’s gone completely off the rails.”

“...What a wonderful experiment. Brilliant.”

Page (3/3)