Now, I’ve tried all kinds of strange combos: whipped cream and potato chips (don’t judge), Grecian statue poses with fake mustaches, and even waltzing to Bon Jovi. But I never thought of trying the combination of bluegrass and a Chinese wedding.
“I hope the bride knows what bluegrass is,” the guitar player in our as-yet nameless bluegrass band said while tuning his strings. We were skulking outside of the Starbucks by the Culture Center because it was raining and we needed to practice. Our banjo player was filling us in on the details of the wedding to come. Us, playing bluegrass, after a Chinese wedding ceremony.
Standard stuff, right?
Here’s the kind of wedding I’m accustomed to: a string quartet made up of two violins, a viola and a cello arrive, set up the instruments, adjust some stands, and then hack away at Pachelbel and Handel’s Water Music just well enough to be ignored. The general goal of wedding music: sound good enough, but not so flashy or good that guests can pick out any one specific song. The person in charge of the money sort of goes AWOL as we pack up, and we end up playing some random Baroque stuff. Sometimes, we just play the service: a standard prelude, processional, recessional, postlude. Though one time, we played for a reception, and in fact, we all vowed never to do it again because it translated to an hour and a half of playing while in full eyesight of a delectable chocolate fondue fountain. We had our standards, our music that amounted to nothing more than the word “nice,” which is usually all people are looking for in wedding music.
So, a bluegrass wedding?
For starters, we were put on a stage (right next to a precariously-stacked tower of champagne glasses, go figure) and were given mics to diddle around with. We actually had no idea when we were supposed to play since everything was really laid back. We wandered about the coffee bar that the wedding was taking place in. We edged closer to the food (and I had no expectation that I would be fed, but later would be digging into delicious food) and generally schmoozed until the bridesmaid/interpreter came and said ‘Hey, the bride is running a little late. Can you play something…lively?”
But of course!
The wedding was supposed to begin at 6:18, and the three of us speculated the significance of this time in our respective corner of stools, chairs and stands. The guitarist maintained that, since 8 was a special number, having one in the time was lucky. I thought it had something to do with the combination of 9’s, since the Chinese pronunciation of two 9’s and the word for “forever” is the same. At any rate, we started playing at 6:21, so symbolism be damned.
I looked out over the smartly-dressed guessed seated at coffee tables, at the pictures of the bride and groom in traditional Chinese wedding outfits, and then at our instruments.
And then: why not?
We began with “Cripple Creek,” which is just about as bluegrass-y as you can get. The banjo plucked out an ambling tune, and then suddenly, children were up dancing and flopping around. Some adults joined them, and the atmosphere was one of celebration. I think that’s the universal thing about weddings: everyone is there to celebrate with the enthusiasm of a firecracker. We transitioned into a Chinese song 《我的姑娘在哪里》 which translates to “Where is my girl?” because the bride was still running late. We kept playing, and no one was running around in hysterics. In fact, it was time for more dancing. The Chinese guests cheered and sang with us, the foreign guests snapped photos and laughed at the dancing kids. We played faster and faster, and then when the bridesmaid came back to say we could stop, we slunk away into a different corner to watch the proceedings.
Of course, Chinese weddings are different in many ways than Western weddings. For one, the couple is usually already married (having gone to the officials and gotten the papers signed). So the “wedding” is really just a formality. The officiant is more like an emcee cracking jokes and introducing the couple and interviewing them in the process. (“Who do you want to see most?” “My bride!”) There’s a series of bows to family, to the attendants, to each other. There is a tea-serving ceremony in which the bride and groom offer tea to their new parents. The bride also changes into a red dress come reception time. And also: receptions usually only last as long as the dinner, with activities in the middle. So when dessert is served, that’s usually the signal for everyone to leave, whereas in America, the party is just getting started.
This wedding defied all traditions: Chinese at its core, with enough foreign elements to make it fusion. Half of the guests were foreigners who had studied with her, and the other half Chinese people who I think had a good grasp of Western culture. She was in a big poofy white dress. They cut cake, poured the champagne, and the emcee made them play games before they could kiss each other.
Then it was reception time, and so we were back on stage. Despite of how random it seemed to be there, we fit right in. Right in, with our jeans, our American instruments, and our songs. We played “Turkey in the Straw,” and even got a folksy “Canon in D” going (because it wouldn’t be a wedding without it).
The bride came up to sing a song she requested called “Ready for Love” which was in Chinese. We plucked and played with her, and I sang along with, more as a prompter for when she got lost. Then, when she ran to hug her new husband, we played and played, watching the gaggle of dancers hoedown in qipao.
The night swept by, and I wished that our set list was longer. The bridesmaid handed us our envelope (and we didn’t even need to hunt her down!) and thanked us profusely for playing. They said they were so lucky to know us, but I felt like the lucky one: a gig, a good dinner, good company, and a lot of fun.
Just goes to show: some of the strangest flavor combinations have the best taste, hmm?
Through the Dragon Gate 