Multi-dimensional vocalist, songwriter, producer and mixed-media artist RAINBOW CHAN has released Pillar, her second full-length record. The highly-anticipated follow-up to 2016ās Spacings LP, Pillar is both a welcome continuation of Rainbowās eclectic alternative pop, and a distinct deviation from past work.
The recordās ten tracks sound like a watershed moment, in which all of Rainbowās various interests and influences mesh together, creating something vibrantly, daringly original. Celebrating her heritage and culture like never before, the record strikes a keen balance between club-ready beats, pop formats, and acapella abstractions.
As Rainbow writes, āPillar is a record about movement. With movement, comes change. With change, comes a multiplicity of truths. These ten songs were written amongst a constellation of languages, times, locations and lives, further exploring my East-Asian heritage with songs flowing effortlessly between English, Mandarin, Cantonese and Weitou (Cantonese dialect), as a way to de-centre the Eurocentricity of language in pop musicā.
I had the great privilege of sitting down with Rainbow to discuss the record, within the broader context of her practice as a whole. We spoke at length about the process behind Pillar, including the incredibly moving story of how Rainbow has reconnected with her motherās heritage, the Weitou people of Hong Kong.
Youāve only done one show [in Newcastle], but howās the tour been going so far?
Itās been really good so far. I usually feel a lot of pressure around album campaigns, because you have this expectation that itās āmake or breakā, but for this one Iāve alleviated some of that pressure of myself. Iāve been keeping my life quite normal and busy, and doing other projects at the same time - it feels much more integrated into my life. Itās nice to have the dates spread out so I have a normal work week and then tour on the weekends. I do feel quite lucky in that everyone around me has been very understanding and supportive of my schedule. Iām trying to look after my mental health. I think people donāt really talk about the creative industry and how the metrics for success are so arbitrary, so subjective.
It's pretty rigged!
Itās all algorithms! To have some sort of normality amongst all of this promotion is really important. The show in Newcastle was really sweet, and Iām really looking forward to the rest of the tour. Thereās a few more elements this time. Al Joel, an amazing production and costume designer who worked on my last couple of video clips, has extended that visual element and costume element into the live show this time. There are a few stage ornamentations that draw from the visuals of the videos, and the photoshoots. Itās nice to tie things together. My sister Rose [aka Okin Osan] is playing flute and backing vocals and electronics in the set. Itās nice having a travel buddy.
Getting into a discussion of Pillar, the first thing I noticed upon listening is how overall, this record seems grittier and grainier than Spacings, and even last yearās Fabrica EP. Where Spacings had this wonderful sheen to its production quality, Pillar on the other hands feels more tactile and immediate. Was this a conscious decision, to depart from previous material, or was it a series of happy accidents?
Well, the record came together over the course of three years, which seems like a long time to be writing, but funnily enough it didnāt feel like it was a long time. I was doing so many other things at the same time! I released an EP under Chunyin, started a project with my best friend Alex Ward as DIN. I think those things definitely contributed to the sound in Pillar. There are more obvious references to dance or electronic music, with these footwork-inspired, really fast club beats. I embraced that although Iām a vocalist, they donāt have to be singer-songwriter style āsongsā. There are also elements in Pillar that are acapella, drawing it out into soft and whispery territory. It was a matter of feeling confident enough to have the contrast as an aesthetic choice. Maybe in the past I was a bit more worried about genre, trying to make Rainbow Chan this pop project. I think the reason why Pillar came out a bit grittier was because the songs directed the project, and the songs were inspired by a lot of travelling I did. There are sonic differences in a lot of the songs because they were literally recorded in different geographies, in different āstudios.ā
Under a blanketā¦
Yeah exactly! And on different equipment I had access to, like an iPhone. There are all these organic elements to Pillar that give it a bit more spatial depth, I guess.
Itās an eclecticism that comes through prominently, and itās really satisfying. It has this diaristic quality to it, and I donāt mean that in a sophomoric sense. I mean in a very genuine, emotive, and affective way.
Itās almost a bit scrapbook-y.
Thatās a great way of putting it.
Iām moving away from romantic love as being the primary source of inspiration - a lot of the songs are about family or intergenerational relationships. That really opened up the way that the songs developed. I always used to think that pop songs sound contrived if theyāre not super emotional. If youāre trying to tackle wider issues, it becomes too didactic, and I wanted to veer away from that. The collage-y nature of the songs helped to create an abstraction which then the audience can read into it. Things like interviews and other supplementary platforms I have allow me to explain the intent behind the works. Thatās really helpful. The songs can still be songs, but thereās this larger narrative Iām trying to tackle.
I think collage is the most accurate word for what youāve done. The record displays an incredible versatility in terms of songwriting and production choices, and youāre exploring all of these different voices, almost like character play. It also feels as though for the first time youāre incorporating a lot more of your other projectsā sounds into the mix too. āFor A Long Timeā and āLullā are magnificent, Chunyin-esque bangers, and I can hear a bit of DINās influence on āCSRā. Did you set out to be more incorporative, or did things just blend together naturally?
It was quite natural. When I make music as a demo I donāt necessarily have the project in mind, I just come up with a beat, and sing if I feel it needs singing. I let the songs dictate me this time. Rather than curating it - āThat oneās too weird for Rainbow Chan, the audience wouldnāt get itā - I realised I can do whatever I want, I can take more risks. For example, I was really worried about choosing āLullā as one of the singles, because itās in a different language. Itās not even in Cantonese, itās in a rural dialect! No one will know what Iām talking about. Itās not melodic, itās super-fast, itās not easy listening! I was like, āOh man, this is going to be quite out there for some people. Itās going to shock some people.ā
Good.
It just felt so right. It felt likeā¦ Whatās the point in writing that song if I didnāt give it the light that it needed? Itās based on this dialect Weitou, which is spoken in Hong Kong.
Predominantly in rural areas, right?
Yeah, by the first settlers of Hong Kong, who Iām descended from through my mum. Because itās a disappearing language, I realised if I made the song and didnāt give it the platform it needed, it would be sidelined. I said, āFuck itā and made it the single to celebrate it. If people donāt get it, thatās fine. Iām more confident in establishing the rules and hopefully the people that get it will love it.
Thereās this intense pressure within the industry to be consistent, to have a āprojectā that is digestible, that is accessible. Thereās something very scary, sure, but very powerful about disrupting that.
I feel like it comes with getting a bit older as well, and seeing much wider issues outside of my own ego.
Thereās a sense of perspective.
Yeah, and itās humbling. If people donāt like it, itās not the end of the world. People just carry on, and do the best that they can. It felt like the right choice for me at the time.
I note that youāve used a number of more oblique compositional strategies in the creation of the record, with songs feeling more angular in their construction. Building entire tracks from samples of saxophone, voice memos, fragments of weird electronicsā¦ Do you always come at composition in this more sideways manner?
I think itās always been a part of my thinking. Even when I was a teen and writing songs on guitar or piano, I would be way more interested in trying to create sounds out of the instrument that werenāt traditional. Sticking something on the piano string and getting a sound out of that, making it percussive rather than melodic. With the guitar, tapping on it and making it the drums, or plucking the harmonics. For me, it comes out of exploring, rather than technical or rule-based creation. I think angular is a good way to describe this record. I worked a lot on the computer, doing a lot of cutting and pasting, playing with the technology and how I could exploit different elements of the software to bring out particular idiosyncratic sounds that I wouldnāt hear acoustically.
I feel as though thereās a few distinct forces at play in this body of work: otherness, loneliness, and togetherness. The push and pull between these forces, particularly as someone of diasporic identity, seems to have been the genesis for a lot of the material. How would you articulate the overarching concept(s) of the record? Even if there wasnāt one to begin with, what do you think itās become?
I think you really got it. I say that itās a reflection of multiple time and multiple geographies. I mean, I was literally falling in and out of love in different places of the world, negotiating my identity. Am I Chinese? What are the nuances of being Chinese and diaspora? These questions really shift your sense of belonging. When people see me and go āSheās a Chinese personā, and I go āYesā and internalise that, thatās very different from me going to China or Hong Kong, my so-called original place. I donāt feel like I belong there either. I finally accepted that I am in this position of duality, of being hybrid, and thatās fine! It can be challenging, but at the same time itās more rewarding, being able to unite as well as realise there is a sense of isolation. So, youāre totally right - the balance between loneliness and community or togetherness. In the songs, like 'A Horizon', I talk about this idea of finally coming home. That was loosely because I was in this whirlwind romance at the time, and instead of calling me Rainbow, they would call me āChunyinā, pronouncing it correctly, so there was no need for me to explain anything. I just was. Itās such a micro thing butā¦
Itās big, too.
When youāve embodied that stress and insecurity your whole life, to not be questioned at all is really refreshing. Thatās one example. Also choosing to write songs in Cantonese and Mandarin was a huge step. I was worried that English-listening audiences wouldnāt get it, but also that Chinese audiences would think Iām not pronouncing things right, or Iām getting the grammar wrong. I find now that itās been a really good step. Itās opened up a lot of conversations, including with people in the diaspora, so itās something I donāt want to hide or downplay. I want to be true to my lived and embodied experience.
You used the word nuance a little while back, and it made me think about how the way youāre read by other people can rob you of how you wish to write yourself. Itās really disempowering, and hard to confront because itās not this overtly discriminatory thing you can react against, itās encoded. Yet at the same time, you realise it has this huge effect once you know itās there. Putting your nuance forward and owning it, that takes a lot of courage. I think people are like āthatās not a big deal!ā But it is. Itās working directly against how youāve been conditioned.
I know at the same time Iām very privileged on a global scale, but you still have to respect your traumas and the way that things feel for you. Weāre only human, only subjective, fragile beings. Art and music are really gentle, yet powerful and mobilising ways of dealing with this stuff. I can start this conversation and then it has this trickle-on effect. In the past I didnāt appreciate or actually see this. When I make these things Iām literally in my cupboard! Itās not glamorous, but itās really rewarding to have maybe a younger female-identifying person of Asian descent coming up to me a few years later saying āI really appreciate that youāve done this. Because of that visibility, I feel like I can participate.ā Extending that conversation, I hope that my music is an invitation, rather than anything that makes people feel excluded or that theyāre not cool or smart enough.
I think that invitational quality is absolutely there, and itās a very fun record. Capitalism conditions us to think of fun as this childish, pejorative thing but likeā¦ Why are you alive? You want to have fun, right? And this playfulness feels confident in a way thatās not about ego, but about intentionality.
Thank you for that. Iām quite a bubbly, playful person, but it doesnāt mean Iām not serious, or that Iām not intellectual in terms of what I think about. I do think that the delivery can really change the way that the message is received. I was a saxophone teacher for primary school kids for ages, and that was so rewarding to me. They ended up teaching me so much, to see things with fresh eyes. Iāve more recently been collaborating with elderly people, these women from the [Weitou] village who canāt read or write, but theyāve taught me so much, and in an exchange Iāve also brought their stories to the fore, and created platforms for them. Working with people from all backgrounds and agesā¦
Itās that intergenerationality you were talking about.
I think thatās been a really mind-expanding journey.
The visual identity of this record seems quite differentiated from that of previous material. Youāve released a few video clips, for āCSRā āPillarā, and āLullā respectively, with an amazing team including Jack Jen Atherton, Al Joel, and Haruka Sato, amongst others. They reminded me of your work in the visual arts sphere, such as your recent exhibition at Cement Fondu, on counterfeits, fakery, and bootlegging. How did the visuals for this record come about?
Part of taking more risks in my practice is collaborating. I really love it, but it took a while to get to this position. For one thing, being a woman in a male-dominated industry means collaborations havenāt been from my own wanting to. Itās always been seen as me lacking something, therefore we need to get a male collaborator onto the scene to address that deficit.
Fuck, thatās awful.
Yeah, itās so gross. But this was before everyone was woke.
The wild years of the mid-2010s!
I think through doing all these different projects, and being lucky enough that people have listened to what Iāve put out there, my voice is quite intact now. Iām comfortable enough to relinquish some of that control. Working with close collaborators who I really admire and who I have a continued relationship with, you develop that vision and voice together.
Thereās a synchronicity there.
Yeah. Being able to trust each other is so important. For instance, Hyun Lee, who takes a lot of my photographs, including the cover art, weāve worked together a lot now. We have these shortcut ways of communicating, to bring out a certain vibe. I really do feel that on top of the music, I owe a lot to my collaborators. They really help to not only aesthetically support me, but emotionally as well. Thatās paramount to the creation process.
You need to feel safe in order to take your most bold creative risks.
Yeah, and feeling like Iāve got the power to say no to something, and that theyāll respect that. That comes from maturity and mutual respect for each otherās craft.
This idea of having multiple generations involved in a project is really wonderful, but itās quite sadly uncommon. Itās really enriching to engage not just with your peers around your age, but those younger and older than you. You sing with your mother, Chui Ping, and aunty, Choi Lin, on āLull,ā which is formed around a Weitou lullaby. Your mother also contributed a voice memo to the beginning of āRoofā. Why was it important to explore and incorporate elements of your heritage like this?
The Weitou songs were more of a personal project, I guess. It wasnāt spoken in the house. Every now and again I would hear my mother speak to her sister on the phone, and little words would come out. In Hong Kong itself, itās not really spoken anymore. In the 60s and 70s there was a huge push to modernise, with a huge influx of mainland Chinese people after ā49 when China became Communist. Hong Kong really shifted from village life to Blade Runner within a generation. Thereās only 18,000 people in the world who can speak the language, and I think thereās a complacency because people see it as quite similar to Cantonese, so thereās no need to learn it. Thereās no merit to it, either because itās seen as a lower-class thing. A lot of the people who speak it are in diaspora communities, people who migrated to England, Canada, South Africaā¦ Those enclaves end up continuing the tradition. I approached my mum and said, āI want to do thisā and she said that I should learn it through music, because thatās a really immediate way to pick up on the language. And the songs are so integrated into the lifestyle, itās a holistic picture of what the musicās functionality is. Thereās a spectrum - not everything is sacred, not everything is instructional.
Again, itās nuanced.
Yeah! And what I didnāt realise was that these songs were sung by women. Because the men were taught how to read and write, whereas women passed on knowledge through an oral tradition. All the girls in the villages would hang out, usually in a widowed ladyās house, and she would be the elder that taught them to sing, embroider, cook, and in return they would cut wood for them, carry water from the well. Everyone was looked after. A lot of the songs are really sad, super anti-patriarchy, but knowing that thatās their fate. You sing as a way to protest, because itās this ephemeral form. Everyone can add bits to itā¦ It starts off as a song one girl has written, but through the collaborations and embellishments that each girl adds, it becomes this repertoire, that unites the community of women.
Thatās honestly so incredible.
Hardly anybody has a knowledge of this stuff! A lot of it is anthropologists from the 70s.
Anthropologists have a different perspective on it though. A lot of it is purely documentative.
I have to jump in now before the firsthand, primary sources pass away. Itās a critical moment to engage with this community of that heritage, and to also present it in a way thatās traditional but also modern. To have it be documentative, but then through other ways. Like āLullā, itās not this stuffy thing in a museum that no one wants to listen to, itās instead this lived and celebrated thing. I think for the next project I really want to take this idea further. It feels like a critical moment in time to just play with this intergenerational collaboration more.
I study linguistics, so itās particularly fascinating to hear that someone is engaging with this archival process but in a way that weāre not taught. āSaving languagesā is an inherently problematic idea, because whoās going to teach it, whoās going to speak it, whoās going to read it? Why do you invest all these resources into saving a language when in reality, maybe the only people who are going to profit from it are white academics? You canāt just approach language as this thing you punch into a file and like āWell, thatās the language saved!ā Itās so much more complex. To hear that someone descended from this group is engaging with it in this emphatic, emotionally grounded way is so heartening. Itās exactly the kind of thing that needs to happen!
I think the emotionality of it is something that was quite unprecedented, in the way I received it.
I imagine it would have been so intense.
I was bawling my eyes out after the first day! Seeing the hospitality of the women when they met me, they put a traditional hat on me and said, āYouāre one of us!ā
Thatās such a pure energy.
Theyāre so loving. Iāve been back now three times, and every time I see them their smiles are so gorgeous. They teach me new things, like how to cook, how to weave tasselsā¦ Itās is an ongoing relationship. Whatās really beautiful for me, is the idea that I am now able to sing these songs to my niece or my future child, and my mum potentially would have heard them as a kid. She didnāt know how to sing these songs, but Iāve completed the cycle again, by re-learning it and teaching it back to my mum, so that my kid can listen to it. Itās this cyclic thing. Tradition isnāt just a straight lineā¦
It spirals.
Itās got to be ongoing.
It exists in dialogue.
Totally. I just feel really blessed to be having this journey, and to have a platform to talk about it.
I think one of the most enriching experiences you can have as a person is to feel like youāre a link in a chain, as weird as that sounds. Because of this neoliberal, individualist bullshit weāve grown up with, you think you want to ātranscendā your traditions and your heritage, but in reality, you canāt build on nothing. Not many people have it, but the chance to really intentionally reconnect to heritage. Thatās a connectedness that you canāt get from anything else in human experience. Thatās huge.
Itās certainly given my work a sense of directionality that I didnāt really feel in the past. The picture is now so much bigger than myself. At the same time, itās a lot of pressure, because if I donāt do it, who will? I mean, there are people doing it in Hong Kong, but the more the merrier.
You put this record out independently, and youāve spoken before about the interactions between authorship and power. Especially when youāre someone between identity categories, to put forward your own narrative is quite difficult, and radical. With that in mind, why did you decide to release independently, and what were some of the rewards and challenges of doing so?
The challenges are obviously financial, but it felt right. I did approach labels, but it was quite late in the game. I already had a timeline like āThis is when itās coming out, this is when the tour isā, and just because of the nature of the lag with industry, it just didnāt match up. It was another big jump to say I was going to put it out myself and see how it goes. The Weitou stuff is quite personal, so I wanted to make sure that it was getting delivered to the audience properly. Having the authorship was very comforting, to know it wasnāt going to misconstrued by a third party. Also, having multiple conversations with my collaborators to make sure that the images and sounds would be respectful. In a way, I see this album as an investment in a much longer career. I feel like I have a bit more bargaining power for the next project, if I approach labels. Like, āThis is my vibe, are you with it? How can you continue to support me in this?ā
Itās that idea of authorship again. āThis is my narrativeā.
Yeah! It was super powerful to do it myself, even though itās really hard. People have responded really well. Itās been so rewarding for it to have come off my own back.
Rainbow Chan's Pillar is available now - buy/stream here.
RAINBOW CHAN ā 'PILLAR' ALBUM LAUNCH
Friday, August 23
The Chippo Hotel,
Chippendale, Sydney
FB Event/Tix: here
Photo by Hyun Lee
Words by MICHAEL STRATFORD HUTCH
SEE MORE
RAINBOW CHAN RETURNS WITH āPROMISESā
PREMIERE: RAINBOW CHAN DIGITALLY CONSTRUCTS HERSELF IN āTHE CREATORā VIDEO
