It had to start somewhere and where else was it going to start but Beijing South railway station? Where else but in a great marble hall, haze filtered sunlight falling through the great glass roof? Where else but by a convenience kiosk, sat cross legged with my luggage arranged around me? Without a doubt it was written that it was meant to start here. Sad to be leaving the filthy capital with its grimy hutongs, neon drenched skyscrapers, and dirty, dirty air, but excited to get out on the road for no less than two months -- a round trip around China, from Beijing to Shenzhen, with Indonesia, Singapore and Malaysia thrown in the middle, then Guangzhou to Kunming, up to Chongqing and Chengdu, across to Xi’an and then back to Beijing, with countless second- and third-tier cities in between. I’d been preparing for months, show after show, refining the act and the theatrics, sweating, bleeding, tearing through guitar strings like a scalpel through naked flesh. The time had come to see the country first hand, from the stage. The first show of the tour at Temple the night before was good. xCSx managed to play ten songs in seven minutes, Low Bow came close to a blues punk nervous breakdown on stage. My set was hilarious, shit going wrong all over the place with pedals crapping out and leads getting kicked out. So it goes. Open fields whizz past the train’s window, probably Shandong or something other place. The occasion tower or cluster of apartments towers looming out of the haze. Let’s pretend it’s mist. Let’s pretend it’s not killing us with every fucking breath. Irrigation ditches, little villages, crops. Repeat. The train arrives in Nanjing. First impressions: it looks like shit. No wonder P.K. 14 left. Smog filled air, drab apartments, tangles of concrete flyovers. A definite chill in the breeze. I take a taxi to Castle Bar, far too early and sit on the steps outside, reading a book, waiting. Inside, it’s huge and cold. It must be great when it’s packed. When there are eight people in the crowd, well that’s just comedy isn’t it. Plastic Heads are a great duo, Dan and Jian bust their asses trying to make something in a dead scene where no one cares. They do it anyway, they don’t know but they do. Maybe because without making loud music, they’d have nothing, even if they’d be accepted by their peers and elders. That night I slept in The Factory II, Plastic Head’s practice space, in the third basement floor of a deserted shopping mall. It was cold. I curled up in my sleeping bag next to the tiny heater, low resolution print outs of Joy Division on the walls. January 5, 2014: Nanjing to Shanghai to Suzhou Spicy noodles in a hole in wall. Toss the standing ticket on the slow train, back to the bullet train, that way I’d have time to shower and sort my stuff out. Straight into Shanghai, a brief rest and then it’s over to Inferno to meet Round Eye. Chachy [singer, guitarist] is already on the booze while repairing another pair of glasses he’d busted. The rest of Round Eye and the other band, The Pink Stuff, get in and we’re on hire bus to Suzhou. Boozing on the bus all the way to Tunnel Bar, located on a bar street around an artificial lake. Roundeye got up to soundcheck and just kept going, drinking all the way through, rockabilly and doo wop all punked up. Grease paint on and GGSS is on stage. My Gameboy ran out of batteries right in the middle of a song but Roundeye took it upon themselves to take the stage and rock it with me. Finally, The Pink Stuff -- power pop and neo-psych, swirling electric piano and fuzzed out bass. In the last song Dave the bass player, also of Roundeye, launched his bass off the stage, the headstock splitting as it landed. Tequila shots, chatting up the hostess, back on the bus, job done. January 6, 2014: Suzhou to Huainan On the bullet train out to Anhui, to a tiny place called Huainan, somewhere I never would have heard of otherwise. Stepping off the train to be greeted by the site of fields, as far as the eye can see. I met the bar owners outside the station and they drove me into the city. Visually, it reminded me of Dongbei but without the cold, broken down buildings and faded government slogans painted on the walls, hacked up cars and rusty trucks on the streets. This is the “real China”, as some rusty dingbat in some godforsaken bar would probably insist. From the moment I got to Wooden House bar everyone wanted to shake my hand and have their picture taken with me. They insisted that I was not only the first foreign musician at that bar but the first laowai performer to come and play the city. A narrow bar space with plenty of seating, walls decorated with pictures of Nirvana and The Sex Pistols. Down here rock and roll did not come easy, it isn’t something people understand or care about. But here was a little haven of it, a few people who’d decided to open the kind of bar they wanted to go to and to host the kind of music they wanted to hear. The opening bands did some covers but did them well, they played with a lot of heart. By the time I took the stage the place was packed and kids lost their shit for my set. When I climbed on the bar and walked along it, microphone in hand, grinning through my face paint they screamed and shouted. I can’t remember the last time I played to such an attentive audience. I don’t care what people say, kids out in the sticks have a lot of heart for music and real know how to show their appreciation. January 7, 2014: Huainan to Hefei Anhui noodles and nan bread, back to the station and twenty minutes on the train to Hefei. Getting the bus from the train station wasn’t a easy as I’d anticipated. Standing at the side of the road, raining, my bag straps cutting me like knives, an illegal taxi driver shouting in my face to get into his shitheap of a car. Bliss. Finally a real taxi, who overcharged me, to On The Way bar. Around On The Way there’s a little community of people living a little outside the lines of what is expected, Poker’s tattoo studio, Jun’s skateshop, similar world views. A fun show, good turn out for a rainy Tuesday. I stayed with Jun at his apartment, which is basically just a warehouse full of skateboard decks and shoes. I’d always wondered what an unfurnished apartment looked like. January 8, 2014: Hefei to Kunshan Now I'm on another rental bus with Round Eye again and XXYY -- eight dudes, a lot of booze, and dick stories galore. Jesus I really am on tour aren’t I? Out to Kunshan, Whales Bar, which looks like any old Chinese nightclub where business men in bad suits entertain hookers by running up horrendous bar tabs, except this one is willing to let someone besides their resident Filipino cover band take the stage. I was introduced to Kenny, of Kenny’s Not Dead fame. Whales Bar is his home stomping ground. The bar laid on the booze from the moment we stepped in the door, a questionable decision and Roundeye were at it, hairy shirtless rock and roll messiness. XXYY did their thing, punk driven, nice melodies and structures, and some abuse of the audience who seems more interested in their dice games. I’d been feeling rough all day, worried by a pain in my left ear, but I caught a second wind. Round Eye got up with me again. Even think it’s possible to screw up a song by The Ramones? Leave it to GUIGUISUISUI and Round Eye. The bus back To Shanghai was a complete mess fest, people passed out in the central, tipping beer everywhere, throwing up out the window. Chachy passed out in Inferno and only woke up after he’d be covered in chalk dicks and had a pint of water tipped over his head. January 9, 2014: To Whom It May Concern Dear (insert name of bar manager/ owner), Regarding last night’s performance I would like to offer my sincerest thanks. As I’m sure you’re fully aware, pulling off a two month long, self financed/booked/promoted D.I.Y tour can be quite a lot of effort, especially if you’re a solo performer like myself. Therefore it was so wonderful of you to allow me to come and play at your bar for free and without a word of thanks. Despite playing upwards of one hundred shows a year I really don’t get enough chances to practice, so you basically allowing me to come and rehearse at your bar was of unparalleled assistance. Sometimes I forget how to play my own songs -- twelve bar blues is awfully complicated after all -- so this chance to practice three-chord songs I penned myself was a wonderful use of my time and energy. It was right of you to do absolutely nothing to promote the show, despite the fact that a poster was prepared and sent to you in advance. After all you no doubt have better things to do than attempt to bring potential clientele into your bar to see live performers. Watching paint dry, for example. That being said I am eternally grateful for what I assume to be ‘regulars’ who were in attendance that night. It was gratifying the lengths that they went to in order to ignore the bands, apart from the time they complained it was too loud and wanted it turned down, and solely concerned themselves with getting paralytically drunk. I’m eternally grateful for the opportunity to be able to perform for such people as they undoubtedly would have been at your establishment with or without the bands given the relaxing ambiance, impeccable hygiene, and unparalleled customer service you offer. Finally, a big thanks for not giving the bands any money, complimentary beverages, or even saying thank you. While most bar owners I’ve met have done the aforementioned things, I know that you don’t because you really appreciate musicians and value them and their ability to bring customers to your bar. I could see as clearly as an unmuddied lake that you are given us the greatest gift of all, and that is building our characters through your apparent ambivalence. This is worth far more than a small fee that would have helped pay for food and transportation along the tour, or even just a taxi home for the night. You, sir, truly are a master of motivational psychology. It’s not always easy devoting so much time, energy and money to your art, but I do it for the love of it. The warm and embracing reception I received at your establishment last night reassured me that’s it’s all worthwhile. I genuinely can’t wait to come back and do it all over again! Warm wishes and sincere thanks, GUIGUISUISUI January 10, 2014: Shanghai A beautiful day in Shanghai, the glass towers glistening in the sun light falling through the leaves onto the pavements below. Sitting on a curb drinking a street beer with my old friend Zig, just like we did a year ago in fact, almost to the day. A year later, another Shanghai street corner, another beer, another tour. Older and wiser or just more holes in my jeans? Last day in Shanghai at 696, soundcheck and across the streets for some food. I see an advert on television that shows a kid with its parents, getting older, until the kid is no longer a kid, but an old person, alone. I suddenly feel very alone, very homesick. I manage to shake and got back to 696, sitting at the bar drinking red wine with the sound guy. Soon enough F and Xiao Zhong [of the band Pairs] arrive, as well as Nathan Sidoti. Xiao Zhong and Nathan brought two tote bags filled with GGSS tour t-shirts courtesy of Adam McRae. Such an insane blessing. I played first and get Xiao Zhong up to drum and Adam Cah of The Other to help me sing "Hybrid Moments". I then joined Pairs for their entire set, opening with “I Want To Die In The Ocean’. Six times. In a row. By the end I was thrashing around playing The Diddly Board with my screw driver. I think I actually managed to ruin their songs. It was a good time. *** Tune in next week (or the week after) for more tales of misery and euphoria on the Chinese road. Here's GUIGUISUISUI on the web again.