Exploring New Territory: A Rock Experiment in Gulou

“If you’re near the construction site of the new subway line, you’re close,” I’d been told. I’ve come to check out XP, the new music venue from Michael Pettis and Charles Saliba, the former proprietors of the live music behemoth D-22.

But XP would be difficult to find by just following your ears. Is the clanking and screeching at the Gulou intersection coming from the construction workers and their heavy machinery or from the slight, bespectacled kids in skinny jeans abusing instruments and speakers somewhere in the neighbourhood?

“If you see the queue for the roasted chestnut seller, you’re right there… oh wait, he’s not there. He must have finished for the day.”

I wonder: When was the last time they’d had to direct anybody to D-22?

D-22 was Beijing’s very own Cavern Club. A lofty statement, perhaps, but accurate in relative terms. Much like the Liverpool cave spawned the Merseybeat movement of the 1960s that gave rise to trailblazing legends like The Hollies, Gerry and the Pacemakers and another Liverpool-based four-piece who went on to do quite well, D-22 can be credited with setting the wheels in motion on the “No Beijing” movement of the Noughties that launched such Beijing luminaries as White and Carsick Cars. It would be a stretch to compare Carsick Cars, probably the most lauded of the D-22 brood, to The Beatles, but in relative terms …

“These guys aren’t great, but you should stay for the next group. They’re awesome,” says Dave, a burly chap wearing a black vest top. Not the look I expected of an experimental music maven. Looking around the tight XP space as I enter, I see the getup I associate more readily with this scene: baggy T-shirts, tight jeans, Converse sneakers. And spectacles.

Grinning broadly, Charles Saliba approaches. As the slight performer on stage tortures sounds from a guitar, I muse aloud as to whether there’s any discernible composition to what the performers are producing. “I think you’d be surprised,” replies Saliba. “It’s part improvised, for sure, but they know what they’re doing.” We head towards the office that he shares with Pettis in the converted attic space of XP. Once we’re up there, as oscillators whirr and thrum heavily under our feet, I realize it’s perhaps not the easiest place to talk. Then again, as it’s one of their signature Zoomin’ Nights, perhaps there’s no better time or place to speak to these experimental impresarios, who are clearly excited by their new project.

But first, I have to ask the pair about their decision to abruptly euthanize D-22.

D-22 was in the rudest of health when Pettis and Saliba pulled the plug on the Wudaokou spot earlier this year. “We were starting to feel very constrained by D-22,” says Pettis. “We started feeling like we were doing the same thing over and over, and we’d become a tourist stop.” Their creation had spiralled beyond their control. “It was packed every night. There were these long lines of people outside. You’d think that would be a good thing, but for us it was very uncomfortable; it wasn’t about the musicians and it just wasn’t what we were interested in.” The only way to move on, they decided, was a swift, painless end.

“We no longer felt that what we were doing was unique,” Saliba says, referring to the number of livehouses that have sprung up in recent years. “If you’re in a regular indie rock band in Beijing, you’ve got a lot of choices. So that was one of our big motivations: to find a new focus.”

Starting in 2006, D-22 had championed the cause of Beijing’s voiceless musicians. As word of the groundbreaking Wudaokou venue spread, sonic bandits from across China looked to them for help. The launch of their record label Maybe Mars in 2007 only burnished their reputation as benefactors who would help unappreciated musical geniuses to get ahead in the notoriously unforgiving Chinese music industry.

“We were constantly hearing from bands telling us, ‘Our only dream is to join the label,’” says Pettis. “That was something we couldn’t do. We’re very careful about the people we bring on. So we decided to create the facilities [at XP] to allow people to start their own labels – to burn CDs and do the related artwork.”

Like shadowy backers, Pettis and Saliba have quietly facilitated the dreams of Beijing’s underground musicians, providing industry clout and financial muscle to further their deranged schemes.

I suggest in passing that the pair must be doing quite well from their musical empire, only to be answered with a shock of belly laughter. To my surprise, they admit that the project more often than not leaves them firmly out of pocket. So what’s the reason for this seemingly boundless altruism?

“We don’t wanna help – we’re greedy!” bellows Pettis. “We want to hang out with great f**king musicians and great artists. To be part of the history of making Beijing what I think is already one of the top musical cities in the world ... that, for me, was reason enough.”

Even as they became disenchanted with the mainstreaming of Beijing’s indie scene, a new niche opportunity had been slowly presenting itself to them. “At D-22, we’d started doing these Tuesday night shows called Zoomin’ Night,” says Pettis. “We brought in all these brilliant young experimental musicians that were so sophisticated.”

“It’s not easy for those kinds of bands to find a venue to play,” adds Saliba. “We wanted to continue finding those who needed more support.”

When I was in school, the older kids were each assigned a younger pupil to help, counsel, sometimes just to shield from schoolyard bullies. I’m reminded of that initiative as Pettis and Saliba chatter excitedly about several artists that they see as their next generation of protégés. Suddenly, our chat breaks off. Saliba is using his beer to extinguish a fire that Pettis has accidentally started in a nearby wastepaper bin with a lit cigarette. It’s clear he’s enjoying his new project, and has allowed himself a whiskey or two tonight.

“We have kids who are 17, 18 and 19, and they could be dropped into the middle of New York or Berlin and be among the most sophisticated musicians there. We just want people to understand that,” Pettis exclaims.

“We don’t want to be a place that’s famous for its cocktails or its fancy decor or any other reason,” says Saliba. Clearly the two are in sync on their aims for XP. “We want people to come here because they know there’s going to be a good show.”

“Or even if it’s not great,” Pettis interrupts. “I mean, when you have a really open, improvised space, you can have some really awful shows, but you also have some of these amazing shows.” So what of the future? What do they envisage for Beijing’s experimental scene? “I think within three or four years this experimental thing will become much more accessible,” says Saliba. “There’ll be a crossover. Within a few years of us being here and promoting that scene, some of those musicians will make it bigger.”

And if XP fails or the Gulou hip cats don’t embrace experimental music?

“It can’t fail,” says Pettis, the most measured and focused he’s seemed all night. “The purpose of the club is to get this group of musicians and say, ‘This is your space – do whatever you want.’ So I don’t really see how we could possibly fail from that point of view. Now, could we fail in becoming a really popular club and being in all the tourist guides? Sure. But for us it’s more important that these kids know that there’s somewhere that they can go to play. That they have a place where people care about the music they’re making.”

As the conversation winds down, I feel suitably roused to give the cacophony below another shot. I suggest we descend to check out the final act of the night, the one Dave recommended to me when I arrived.

Alas, 20 minutes later, I’m still not sold on the genre. Somehow I doubt I’ll be voraciously filling my iPod with experimental tunes when I get home. Before I head out, I look around the room to thank my hosts for their hospitality. Charles Saliba is busy back up in the office. He’s taking one of the label’s bands on a tour to Southeast Asia later this week, and there are visa issues to be ironed out. Meanwhile, Michael Pettis is hearing something I simply can’t, dancing enthusiastically a few feet in front of the band. I leave him to it. While it’s too big of a leap for me to embrace it, he, like any good nurturing mentor, seems to be loving every second of it.

XP. Intersection of Di’anmen Dajie and Di’anmennei Dajie, Xicheng District (6404 9947)

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NB: This post has been amended to remove an erroneous reference to Dave as the bar manager. There is no such member of staff and we'd like to apologize to Josh Feola (the general manager) and anyone else at XP for any offense caused.