Musical archeologist seeks echoes from China's past

XILINHOT, China -- Video recorder in hand, Wang Hong sat inside a small stone-and-brick house with one of China's aging musical masters -- a Mongolian vocalist named Hajab who once sang his region's ancestral melodies for Chairman Mao Tse-tung

Wang had ventured from his home in San Francisco to the grasslands of Inner Mongolia on a quest to mine the ancient harmonies of the Middle Kingdom. He had lobbied state authorities and waited months for permission to visit Hajab.

He brought beer to their first meeting.

Imprisoned as a traitor in the 1960s, Hajab said he drinks to forget. He is 85 and his hearing is nearly gone. A lone yellow tooth protrudes from his lower gums; cataracts have stolen his sight.

Once known as the King of the Grasslands, he rarely sings anymore.

Although it was well before noon, he sipped warm beer. His mood was dour.

Then two Chinese musicians, one a former student of his, began tuning their Mongolian horse-head fiddles. Hajab grew silent. As the two played ''Old Bird," his head began moving to the rhythm.

Slowly, he began to sing.

Wang's hands shook with excitement. He glanced at his video camera to make sure he was capturing the moment.

Wang, 46, is a musical archaeologist. For years, he has crisscrossed mainland China in search of folk virtuosos, recording impromptu performances on some of the country's 400 ethnic instruments.

He has learned to play two dozen. There's the banjo-like ruan, also called a moon guitar, a four-stringed instrument used in the Beijing Opera. There's the xun, a clay-vessel flute resembling a beehive with finger holes, and the laba trumpet, which imitates birdsong.

''I see these instruments -- mute, beautiful, mysterious -- and I have to play them," Wang said. To find the old masters, he has traveled by donkey and bicycle over mountain passes. He has played cultural detective, coaxing information from residents, tracking down musicians wary of disclosing craft secrets.

For everyone, Wang has questions: How are the instruments played? Can they find an audience in a generation obsessed with cellphones and video games?

Back in the United States, through his nonprofit Melody of China, an ensemble of musicians trained at some of China's most prestigious conservatories, Wang stages traditional performances.

He performs and lectures around the world on Chinese music -- all while struggling to meet deadlines for grant applications to keep his dream alive.

Sometimes he worries that he may be too late. He once tracked down a specialist on the four-string sihu in a village near Nanjing and was fascinated by his the musician's stories. But before he could return, the man died.

Wang still is searching for the zhui hu, a two-string bass fiddle thought to be extinct.

He reached Hajab in time. On a cool summer morning, the master performed a favorite piece, ''A Fine Horse."

Hajab explained that during the Cultural Revolution, one of his songs angered the Communists. The lyrics evoked a mountain in bordering Mongolia, which became independent from China in 1921.

Party leaders demanded to know why he had immortalized a foreign landmark even though China had many beautiful mountains. Red Guard students smashed most known recordings of his music and burned his scores.

Hajab spent 11 years in prison. Talking of the ordeal, he wept.

Wang has witnessed such emotions often. Many old musicians never recovered from the Cultural Revolution and live in poverty. ''Many cry, which makes me cry," Wang said.