KUHN: Woeser notes, though, that more militant music is marching onto
the Tibetan plateau.
WOESER: (Through translator) Now, a lot of young Tibetans living in
the West are adopting Western forms of popular music, such as rap.
These kinds of songs may gradually become a stronger voice in the
exile community.
(Soundbite of song, “No Next Time”)
Mr. NAMGYAL YESHI (Rapper): (Singing) The time is running and
running, I am getting older and older…
KUHN: Straight out of Queens, New York, Namgyal Yeshi raps about an
onslaught of beggars, thieves and migrants flooding into Tibet from
other parts of China, and of birds, fish and trees disappearing from
the land.
(Soundbite of music)
KUHN: But even before digitized music and cell phones arrived in the
Himalayan highlands, there was already a tradition of protest music.
In 1989, protesters took to the streets of the Tibetan capital,
Lhasa. Many sang this tune about the need for Tibetans to unite,
regardless of their place of birth or religious beliefs.
Woeser says the whole idea of slapping political labels on music is
absurd.
WOESER: (Through translator) Just by categorizing these songs as
reactionary, we can see that the thinking of the authorities in Tibet
is still stuck in the Cultural Revolution. And the current atmosphere
in Tibet of captivity and terror is similar to that era.
KUHN: There’s no public list of banned tunes, Woeser notes. State
media reported that police in Tibet detained two suspects last month
for reactionary ringtones, but it didn’t say which ringtones.
Ultimately, a song’s reactionary tone may be in the ear of the
listener. On the other hand, to an aggrieved singer, even a mellow
ballad can blaze like an angry anthem.
Anthony Kuhn, NPR News, Beijing.
(Soundbite of music)
Unidentified Man (Singer): (Singing foreign language)
Tags: Free Tibet, Namgyal Rapper, Tibetan, Woeser