With his first album, When I Leave Taipei, Xing Zheng established himself as a city folk poet, drawing inspiration from his hometown of Yangzhou, his university years in Beijing and his graduate studies in Taipei. His third album, 盆地 [The Basin], finds the artist in Chengdu charting a journey into the depths of pain and memory, with keen-eyed observations of city life and references to more remote regions as well—from the sound of Alpine wind on “很難像晚風” [“Evening Breeze”] to “高山症” [“Rebound”], a song inspired by altitude sickness. Dense with imagery and metaphors and delivered with lush, intimate vocals, Zheng’s characteristic acoustic guitar and piano tracks convey emotional vulnerability. “Rebound”, meanwhile, makes a personal declaration in swinging rhythm and squalling trumpet—and the title track swirls in an electric orchestral tempest. Below, Zheng shares the stories behind each track on the album with Apple Music. “旭” [“Dark Morning”] “One morning in the autumn of 2020, my guitarist Yang Nuolin and I were headed to the studio to write a song when we looked up and saw a dark cloud overhead—sparrows were flying low in the sky. That electric guitar sound you hear is like the trace of their flight—at times at a great height, other times drawing quite close, and gradually falling to earth like a ray of sunlight piercing the evening clouds.” “麻雀飛去哪裡” [“Where Sparrows Heading”] “This is the song we wrote that morning. It passed through the hands of a few singers I really admire but fate brought it back to me. I think of it as a critical distillation of the past three years of growth, as if it was foretelling something for me. Then, at the first concert I held, I determined it would be an important part of this album and the concert opener.” “天橋” [“Rover on the Footbridge”] “This is a song about roaming the city. The album opens by raising a question about where to go, and then turns its focus to the path underfoot. This was my first time working with producer HLK. I really like the racing, youthful feel and the way thoughts soar.” “最笨的思念” [“The Dumbest”] “As the only old song on the album—it was written in 2016—this one’s been with listeners for many years, since they first met me. Cheng-Yang Chung’s acoustic guitar brings the song’s wavering mental state to life. Thoughts of the past may be inappropriate, but they’re so sincere, simple and beautiful.” “日落玄武湖” [“Into the Lake”] “This is a redemption song I wrote for myself. It captures the sunset over Xuanwu Lake outside Nanjing railway station—and captures the darkness that swallowed me up. Synths play the part of the mysterious voice from the depths. The hum of the pre-chorus is the ghost along the road. I’ve worked with David Tsai since ‘Danshari’ [from Museum of Tears] and he came up with yet another astonishing, moving arrangement.” “很難像晚風” [“Evening Breeze”] “Probably the low point of the album—the low octave doubling is like a lingering shadow, like caressing a scar in farewell, like a sense of calm amid torment. Can you hear the faint sound of wind? Recorded by Eliot, the song’s arranger, at the foot of the Alps, it blows hypnotically and spreads and surges with a dreamy gospel feel.” “盆地” [“The Basin”] “Closing out the emotional dive of the top of the album, this track opens up the next step of the journey with synth bass and distorted drums. Producer YU is always finding the perfect new vessel for my singing. This one’s a song of consolation. The brief exit of the guitar leaves space for the low end—and like floating bottles colliding, the violin leads drifters to a place of their own.” “抒情考古學” [“Archaeology Ballad”] “Reaching the basin, why not continue onward and dig into the earth? The opening piano and bass spread out a scene of ocean-floor exploration where fragments of memory are lifted carefully and the soul gradually comes to the surface. Before I moved to Chengdu, when I’d clean my apartment, my thoughts would for some reason fly thousands of years into the future and I would wonder, when all is transformed by time, would I be able to accept my own broken incompleteness?” “高山症” [“Rebound”] “I experienced altitude sickness [the literal Chinese title] during a trip to western Sichuan—and that gave me the resolve to leave an unhealthy relationship. And so, with big, resolute steps, I took a deep breath and danced to a swinging beat out of my regret—what a wonderful feeling it is to survive! ‘Rebound’ also describes a relationship, so this song is also a declaration of personal bodily autonomy.” “候鳥的短歌” [“A Song of Migrants”] “For a while I’d write songs on aeroplanes. No instruments, so the melody and lyrics have to come from your mind. That’s how this song was written. A traveller’s pace is built from successive take-offs and landings. The children in the choir that producer Mark Lee found are like my past self, facing the challenges the world brings to them.” “行路難” [“Sometimes Near, Sometimes Far”] “In 2022, my first summer in Chengdu, Sichuan experienced unusually high temperatures. And rolling blackouts meant that you wouldn’t see streetlights or shop signs at night. Of course, we’re burdened by so many emotions caused by lots of things that are worse than the summer heat. I’ve worked with Chelin Liu since my first album and here I use his trademark Britpop to bring us the courage to face adversity.” “抵達之謎” [“Could We Get There…?”] “No matter how long or tough the road, or where the destination lies, we live our lives as a series of arrivals and departures. When the trumpet plays over a dirge, all waiting, wavering and pain are set gently down like a leaf settling onto mud. The piano and orchestral parts by Li Xingyu of Whale Circus have a timeless beauty like a faint light probing into the unknown. Has the question posed at the top of the album received an answer? Maybe the answer isn’t important—our greatest rewards have been what we’ve unearthed and practised along the way.”