dj on high 在高處打碟

"Bon Voyage" was a virtual island, hidden among the hustle and bustle of the city, surrounded by elderly people, pets, children, plants, fabric markets, and authentic noodle soup shops. It opened in July 2020 and has now closed its doors.

The place used to sell plants, aromatherapy products, world instruments, ceramics, swimsuits, and handmade Indian crafts... but nothing really sold. Events were sparse, but some were held here. It used to be beautiful, you could describe it that way. It was a leisurely atmosphere, immersed in the scent of plants and high-definition pixels. Then, the pandemic spread in Guangzhou, and businesses shut down everywhere. Anxiety and suppression spread and are still dissipating.

Subsequently, with no one interested in the merchandise and sales struggling, as it remained idle, the development slowly deviated from the original intentions of the owners. It gathered a few restless participants in the continuous screenings, mini-performances, and exotic dance parties. They came from different places, forming a certain connection through continuous interactions, a kind of intermittent resonance. But what followed was the grim reality of a failing business and emotional daily life. In the end, as the lease term approached, after the owners checked the account balances, they decided to close "Bon Voyage".

But, is this really the end? It should have a farewell gesture that matches its name.

From start to finish, a shop is filled with the hopes of its owners and their friends at every stage of its journey. This is the fantasy of life continuing, a fantasy in orange, in tropical plants, in the base of an ashtray. It gradually changed from unsold items, these aromatic green plants and handcrafted woodworking, to the near-disturbing noise that echoed every weekend. It's a change in its destiny. In Guangzhou, there are few places that offer alternative music events, let alone if it's a high-energy, eccentric event. At least in Guangzhou, it's not a purely white art space, a bourgeois cocktail bar, a solemn academic place, or an independent music industry-dominated livehouse, like the places that can be found. In an excess space that failed to thrive but couldn't be abandoned, naively wonderful and intricately complex, something continued to happen for a while. It led to some farewells and dispersals, which happened a little later. During this time, a few people took a breath here, giving back to these owners, giving back to this place, giving back to the relaxed listening and exotic dance activities, reflecting the reasons this place started. But the fate of being face-to-face finally arrived. Each person in it took a piece, even though it closed, and brought it back to their own place.

This farewell gesture has become the current "Far Away Party". At first, the owners envisioned a three-day and three-night grand celebration, and everything went smoothly. The venue, personnel, and facilities all seemed to be approaching as planned. But then, another lock down occurred in Guangzhou. After stagnating for over a month, the newly found venue was a large commercial studio, with extensive facilities and the capital threshold brought by its attributes. In the ongoing negotiations, complex deposits, contracts, disclaimers, high fees, concert-style services, and cultural bureau approvals all emerged. The momentum was increasingly like a bunch of poor kids wanting to climb a luxury ladder. However, this whole set of lavishly spending operations has deviated from the direction of this event itself. We decided to reject this grievance and abandon the fantasy. So, we turned our attention back to the location of the ‘grassroots Music Festival’ in June, an underground space in the abandoned area of Creative Park in Kecun. As time passed, the pandemic continued to fluctuate, and we had to change the event's plans according to the real conditions. Originally, we wanted to reimburse all the travel expenses for the musicians, but unfortunately, we no longer have the ability to guarantee this. Still, we are very grateful to the out-of-town musician friends who still came, and we also send our best wishes to Comrade Wang Fan, "解离的真实" and the Southern Acidic Mimi Band who couldn't participate due to time constraints. We also hope that more audience members can come to support the musicians who came from out of town, providing them with some practical compensation.

The above is the process and vision of organizing this performance.

Regarding the upcoming live event, there may be questions. In a place where one could virtually sunbathe and enjoy chilled coconut water, why is the farewell party not Psytrance? Not a tropical electronic music festival? Not a romantic version of House music? Not Techno, not Hippop, not Caucasian airport ambient? Instead, it's a two-day-long noise event?

Why a noise event? There is certainly an unknown dislocation here, and there may also be some awkwardness. But in the past six months, Guangzhou's noise musicians have gathered and breathed in the failing "Bon Voyage", also existing in such dislocation and awkwardness. But they also have an excessive attribute. If it were experimental music, there would be the smell of a laboratory, experimental standards, and measurable results or objects. But none of this exists here. When it happened, there was still no way to classify it.

Those impossibilities, ultimate and ultimate, that cannot be appeased or restrained, that cannot be self-comforted, will only be noise. The screams of flames, ungraspable.

             ——Yutong/Xiuyuan/Big Na

一路顺风是一个隐蔽在市井之间，被老人与宠物，小孩和植物，布匹市场和原味汤粉店包围的虚拟小岛、迷幻小店。从2020年7月份开张，如今，它结业了。

这个地方曾经售卖过植物、香薰、世界乐器、陶瓷与泳衣、印度手工品……然而什么都没卖出去，活动也稀稀拉拉的，曾在这里举办过一些。以前它是美丽的，可以加上如此来形容，一种被植物香熏和高清像素殖民的休闲风情。随后，疫情在广州蔓延，处处都关门闭店，一种焦虑和压抑在扩散，仍在挥发中。

之后，商品无人问津，销售无力，闲置的同时，发展慢慢偏离了店主们原设想的方向，在持续的放映、微型演出、异域舞蹈派对中聚集起了些许悸动的参与者。他们来自不同地方不同的点，在不断的接触中，形成了某种线条和纠缠，某种时而互通的感应。但接踵而来的却是生意惨淡的现实和情绪化的日常。总之，随着租期临近，店主们查了账户余额后，决定要关闭一路顺风小店。

但是 ，真的要这样结束吗？它应该有一个像它的名字那样的告别动作。

一家店，从开始到结束，在它旅程的每一处都饱含店主与她们的朋友的希望，这是生活下去的幻想，这种幻想，在橙红色，在热带植物，在烟灰缸底座，逐渐从滞销的一切，这些香薰绿植木工手作，到发出每周末几近扰民的轰响，是它某种命运的改变。在广州，鲜有能提供另类音乐活动的场所，更别说如果它是一种高能高压，孤陋寡僻的事件。起码在广州，它不是纯白色艺术空间，小资情调鸡尾酒吧，严肃极权的学术场所，独立音乐产业垄断的livehouse，诸如这些地方所能够承载的。在一个经营失败又不能一弃而之的过剩场所，天真奇妙又错综复杂地，在这个缝隙之间，持续发生了一段时间。让一些离别和流散，更晚发生了一点。这期间，些许人在这里喘过几口气，以回馈这几个店主，回馈这个地方，回馈轻松听和异域风情舞蹈活动，反应着这个地方开始的原因。但贴脸的命运最终还是来了，这之中产生过许多无法说清的情绪，一直萦绕着，就算它倒闭了，之中的每个人还都拿了一部分，带回了自己的地方。

这个告别动作就变成了现在的顺风派对。起初店主们畅想了一个三天三夜的大型狂欢活动，一切进行得很顺利。场地人员设施好像都按照着预计的方向靠近，但又一场疫情在广州冒出来了。停滞了一个多月之后，新找到的场地是一个大型的商业摄影棚，配套了大规模的设施，以及它本身的属性所带来的资本门槛。在不断的洽谈过程里，繁复的定金与合同，免责协议，高额费用，演唱会式服务，文化局报批都冒了出来。架势越来越像一帮穷孩子想要豪华大爬梯的样式，但这一整套大撒币的运作模式已偏离了这次活动本身的方向。我们决定拒绝这种委屈，抛弃幻想。于是我们把视线转回了6月杂草音乐节演出的地方，一个地下室，在客村创意园区的废弃之地。随着时间的推移，疫情也不断反复，我们必须根据现实条件去改变活动的计划。原先我们想要报销乐手们的全部车旅费用，但无奈，现在的我们没有能力再保证这一点，还是很感谢依旧前来的外地乐手朋友们，同时也遥祝因时间原因无法参加的王凡同志、解离的真实和南方酸性咪咪乐队。我们也希望现场能够有多些观众前来支持，为从外地赶来的乐手们有一些实际的补偿。

以上就是我们组织本场演出的过程与设想。

以下对于将要到来的现场，其实存在着这样的疑问。一个虚拟着晒太阳和冰镇椰子水的地方，怎么它的结业派对，不是Psytrance？不是热带电音节？不是爱意满满的翻版House？不是Techno不是Hippop不是白人机场ambient？不是新迷幻旧迷幻，而是一次持续两天的噪音现场？

为什么是噪音现场？这里肯定存在着一种不知名的错位，可能也存在着某种尴尬，但在过去半年里，广州的噪音乐手们在经营失败的顺风小店聚集和呼吸，也在这样的错位和尴尬中存在。但同样都具有一种过剩的属性，如果是实验音乐，那么会有一种实验室的气味，实验的标准，实验的结果或可量化的对象，但这里都不存在。在发生的时候，仍然没有办法去归类。

那些不可能的，终极又终极的，无法平息无法遏制，无法自我安慰的降临，只会是噪音。火焰的尖叫声，无法被抓住。

——  雨桐/修远/大拿