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f e at u r e | a rt s
On Campus at the Midi
School of Music
by Andrew Chin and Sophie Zhang,
images by Naomi Goddard
Out by the Fifth Ring Road, next
to the distinctly un-rock ‘n’ roll Beijing
Academy of Agriculture and Forestry
Sciences, long-haired students smoke
cigarettes, instruments strapped to their
backs. It’s the first day back at the Midi
School of Music. A furious drum solo rings
out from one of the rehearsal rooms while,
in a nearby classroom, twenty-somethings
sit with guitars on their laps, eagerly looking
towards their teacher.
Most of the 300 students – along with the
3,000 or so Midi graduates before them –
hope to follow in the footsteps of some of the
school’s more famous alumni. Troubadour
Xie Tianxiao and members of Second Hand
Rose were once enrolled here, while music
luminaries like Miserable Faith, Yaksa and
Nine Treasures also formed on campus. But,
for now at least, a more achievable goal is
being named ‘Mr. Midi,’ a title bestowed on
students who complete all nine grades of
the music exam system inspired by Britain’s
Rock School.
Although not a guaranteed path to success
in this difficult industry, the Mr. Midi system
helps young musicians develop their careers.
The successful graduates will have their
information posted online, allowing other
students to contact them directly for lessons,
according to the school’s headmaster Zhang
Fan. “We want our graduates to teach
students and we are aiming to have 1,000
Mr. Midi’s in China in the next five years so
they can teach more Mr. Midi’s,” he explains.
Indeed, a life of rock ‘n’ roll stardom is not
necessarily the goal for all, like 25-year-old
Bowen Cao, a jazz and funk drummer who
plays with the student band Danaotiangong.
From Left to Right | Midi School students Bowen Cao,
25; Lu Cheng, 25; Runze Zhang, 20; and Da Fei, 24

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“they may have
studied poorly
in school
before because
they didn’t like
subjects like
math. But they
chose Midi
School because
they love music”
“I’ve never aimed at becoming a rock
star,” he explains. “In my view, when a
rocker becomes a star, they have no choice
but become a part of the commercial chain.
Music is never about consumption. I am
quite idealistic about it – I’d rather be a low-
key musician who devotes all of his heart
toward creating music. If people in the
field recognize my music, I'd see this as my
biggest achievement.”
Since opening in 1993, the Mainland’s
first modern music school has helped
countless young musicians forge professions
of all kinds. Under Zhang’s stewardship, the
Beijing Midi School has expanded from a
three-month to a two-year program, with an
additional two-year option for exemplary
students. The godfather of Chinese rock, Cui
Jian, was an early teacher here (once leading
rehearsals for free) while SMZB co-founders
Wu Wei and Zhu Ning discovered punk
rock at the school before kickstarting an
underground music revolution in their home
city of Wuhan when they returned.
A passion for music is the school’s lone
requirement with Zhang noting that the
country’s junior and middle schools lack
strong music education programs.
“At every opening party, I tell new
students that they may have studied poorly
in school before because they didn’t like
subjects like math,” Zhang says. “But they
chose Midi School because they love music.
They just study and are happy because they
found their language and a place to put their
energy and passion.”
One such troubled student, 20-year-old
guitar major Zhang Runze [no relation], did
not finish high school, though his enthusiasm
for learning music is evident: “I have never
felt more motivated. I hated learning during
my high school years, but at Midi I study
really hard,” he says.
Others have sacrificed more stable careers
to pursue their passion. Da Fei, 24, who plays
gothic rock and darkwave with the band
EverKey, dropped out of an international
commerce college in his sophomore year to
join the school against the will of his parents
(a resistance faced by all the students we
speak with).
“For me, Midi Music School is a sort of
utopia,” he says. “The people I meet and
live with here all share a kindred ambition
and interest with me. I feel free because
everything I talk and learn about are the
things I love. When I go back home, people
around me only talk about trivial stuff like
getting married, earning money and so on. It
can be boring, suffocating even.”
With practice rooms open from 8am
to 10.30pm, just moments away from the
campus residences, the Midi School is a
musical haven. Programs cover music theory
and composition, with students expected to
learn disparate genres, from blues to jazz

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fusion. But the schedule can be punishing.
Students must pass rigorous tests and
dedicate huge amounts of time to rehearsing,
says 25-year-old blues guitarist Lu Cheng,
who is also a member of Danaotiangong:
“We seldom visit downtown areas in Beijing.
We spent most of the time here, learning
and practicing. The curriculum is very
demanding.”
In their second year, all students must
form a band and perform at one of the
monthly parties held in the campus’
livehouse. Famed alumni occasionally
swing by for intimate free shows and the
school’s best bands are rewarded with an
even greater level of exposure, thanks to the
growth of the school’s own Midi Festival.
Originally a showcase for student bands,
it has become a May holiday tradition that
set the template for Mainland music festivals
and paved the way for competitors like
Strawberry Music Festival, JZ Festival and
Zebra Festival. After being held on school
grounds for four years, Midi hit the big time
in 2005 when 46 bands played to tens of
thousands in Haidian Park. Growing revenue
from ticket sales and sponsorship allowed
for bigger bookings, providing the school’s
young talent (normally the most recent
graduates) with the chance to play alongside
some of China’s biggest acts in front of huge
crowds.
The Qing Stage is still devoted to student
bands from across the country battling in
the China College School Competitions. It’s
part of headmaster Zhang’s goal that “every
Midi Festival has 20 percent new bands.” The
standard is high and students like Lu Cheng
know that competition for a slot is fierce.
“You have to compose enough songs of
high quality and also be good at playing,” he
says. “But without any doubt, we all want to
be on that stage in the future.”
The future of the festival may hang in the
balance this year however, as the school
awaits confirmation of the venue. The Public
Security Bureau is increasingly strict with
licensing large events – an understandable
reaction to the New Year’s tragedy in
Shanghai – but the headmaster has a backup
plan. Although expanding the event helped
accommodate international acts like Britpop
stars Suede and funk legend/slap bass
pioneer Larry Graham, Zhang is ready to
bring the festival back to the school campus
if need be.
“A lot of young people want that feeling
of the early Midi Festivals,” he says. “At the
time, it was like utopia. No tickets, very
cheap drinks and the musicians played for free. It was
like a big family.
“At least more and more Chinese people have a chance
to taste what a festival is like: a relaxed and free place
where people respect each other while being cool
and happy. And the bands are original and gritty – not
Chinese TV pop.”
Nonetheless, the commercial popularity of televised
talent competitions has seen the school evolve with
the times. A vocal program has recently been added to
the curriculum to complement the popularity of the
shows, although Zhang notes it’s not solely for pop.
With students hailing from as far afield as Tibet and
Taiwan, the Midi brand may also be expanding. As Zhang
considers opening a second branch in Shenzhen, a play-
at-home music instruction book series is scheduled to be
released by People’s Music Publishing in mid-May that
will assist music teachers across the country.
“Once you follow the series to study, students can play
almost any style, from heavy metal to funk to Latin,”
Zhang says.
Yet it is a lifelong passion for rock that continues to
drive Zhang. Sitting in his office, he gregariously recounts
being one of the first Mainlanders to be exposed to
Western sounds when his father (who was among
the first to leave the country for a research exchange
in Melbourne) returned to China in 1981 with two
90-minute cassette tapes of songs recorded from vinyl by
his Australian friends.
After months of playing air guitar on a broom, Zhang’s
mother bought him the real thing. His teenage years were
spent writing music and winning school competitions.
Like many of his students, college wasn’t for him. While
he majored in foreign trade, Zhang spent his first post-
graduate years “being lazy at home and making music.”
With no equivalent to the Midi School at the time, it
was fortune that threw him an opportunity in 1993. It
was then that his time spent hanging out at the country’s
first music instrument company – the Midi music store –
paid off.
“The boss asked if I wanted to be the director of
the school they set up,” he recalls. “I agreed because I
thought I could use the music instruments for free.”
Rock in China has grown immeasurably since. Zhang
uses 14th century classic Romance of the Three Kingdoms
as an analogy to describe the transformation: the 1990s
were like the Shu Han Kingdom “where there were three
big guys,” and its current state is the Cao Wei Kingdom
“where there are 200 guys.”
It’s an underestimation – there are believed to be more
than 2,000 student bands active around the country. So
does this first-generation rocker ever jam with his young
charges?
“No, I’m the director,” he says with faux sternness. “To
be honest, I’m not as good as the students.”
midi Festival is scheduled for may 1-3; for more details as they
become available, visit www.thatsmags.com/beijing.
Above left | Head teacher Zhang Fan
Above center | A student practices drums in
the school grounds
Below | The school's main building