by Bing Ji Ling
I had the great fortune (and one hell of an adventure) of living in Shanghai in the late ’90s when a foreign presence was still quite new. In fact, in a city of 14 million at the time, there were only about 20,000 non Chinese. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone hung out at a handful of places. I was playing at a jazz/blues club called the Cotton Club (of course), which was sort of the epicenter of the ex-pat scene. Strangely, I never really played jazz or blues before I went to China, which isn’t exactly the birthplace of the blues. It was an opportunity that fell into my lap through an old college acquaintance, and I jumped on the chance to see Asia, and get paid for it.
Bing Ji Ling’s “Move On”