That year, In order to welcome the visit of the president of a famous Western higher music institution, I hurriedly arranged the best piano playing students in the school to enter the piano room and set the table for the president of the ocean and his accompanying arrival.
That year, After visiting the piano rooms, President Yang asked the leaders of our school a question: "Your students are studying our music. Doesn't Chinese music have its own theoretical system? Our hospital leader smiled after listening and silently lowered his head.
That year, No one takes all this too seriously.
That year, At a Tokyo record company, for the first time in my life, I saw and heard a record called "Aboriginal music", a recording of Aboriginal music recorded by the Japanese in a region of Asia during World War II. At that time, as a foreign student, I was extremely shocked.
That year, I thought of two words, "cultural heritage" and "heritage plunder", as well as the questions asked by the president of the foreign country. I seem to suddenly understand two things: one, because of ignorance and blind to the cultural heritage of those ancestors, if we do not cherish, the great powers will plunder. Second, the systematic birth of national music theory is a huge, long-lasting and highly integrated system engineering, and the field collection work(picking wind) is the most basic link of this project, but also the most powerful support for this academic project.
That year, After returning home, I took up my friend Mr. Liuchenjie and started the business that we believed to be "the responsibility of the rise and fall of culture"[original ecological music collection].
That year, We are very poor, but we are very busy and busy. Mr Liu videotaped the photo, I held the pole recording interview. In this way, I do not know how many of the same "year".
That year, We finally ran out of food and poverty, but each other looked at each other, happily smiled tears, like two fools who wanted to race against time.
That year, On the hospital bed, Mr. Liu took my hand and said that after he was well, he would go on a trip with me and repeatedly told us about our unfinished business. Suddenly, I cried like rain.
In the end, Mr. Liu still failed to run through the time, at the age of 54.
And the screen image of his phone is still:
That year, we took our first photo before the trip.