‘Few Chinese, myself included, really knew what rock ‘n roll was back then. But we knew it was something that gave out energy. It was music with a message.’

‘I performed at Tiananmen Square in 1989, 15 days before the crackdown. I sang A Piece of Red Cloth (一块红布), a tune about alienation. I covered my eyes with a red cloth to symbolise my feelings. The students were heroes. They needed me, and I needed them. After Tiananmen, however, authorities banned concerts. We performed instead at “parties,” unofficial shows in hotels and restaurants.’

‘That day you used a piece of red cloth
to blindfold my eyes and cover up the sky.
You asked me what I could see.
I said I saw happiness.’

‘You asked me where I wanted to go.
I said I want to walk your road.
I couldn’t see you, and I couldn’t see the road.’

‘I had a feeling this wasn’t a wilderness,
though I couldn’t see it was already dry and cracked.
I felt that I wanted to drink some water.
But you used a kiss to block my mouth.
I couldn’t go, and I couldn’t cry
’cause my body is already withered and dry.’

‘Some people say that there are hidden meanings in my love songs, political meanings. I don’t want to say it that clearly because I don’t have to…Politics and love, in some ways, are one.’

John Keane, Professor of Politics, University of Sydney

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.