Cantonese Music Collection: Recounting those eras of Cantonese songs interwoven with light and shadow, recording unforgettable melodies in the heart, and sharing stories of popular or niche Hong Kong music.
Preface#
In the midnight city, as neon lights fade one by one, Lin Xi’s lyrics and Eason Chan’s voice intertwine in the headphones, forming a remedy for heartbreak.
This trilogy is like three time capsules, sealing three emotional states of urban dwellers: the tearing reality in “People Coming and Going,” the temporal extension in “Next Year Today,” and the philosophical transcendence in “Under Mount Fuji.” When this lyric god and song king join forces, they not only create songs but also construct a three-dimensional labyrinth of emotions, allowing every lost soul to find their own reflection within.
This is not merely music; it is a textbook of modern emotional pathology written in Cantonese, where every note is a precise slice of the soul.
”People Coming and Going”#
The First Layer of Pain: The Present Continuous Tense of “People Coming and Going” In the modern jungle where convenience store neon lights and subway announcements intertwine, Lin Xi uses montage techniques to dissect the cross-section of urban fast-food romance. The piercing question, “When you close your eyes, who do you miss most?” shatters all self-deceptive disguises. The choked sob in Eason’s throat during the chorus is like the futile effort of running against the escalator. The ambiguities that grow under the guise of friendship shatter like expired food in the rustle of convenience store plastic bags, teaching us the cruel grammar of urban love—all “borrowed warmth” must eventually be returned.
Friends have left; you, newly promoted, raise your glass until the early hours, still not enough. Using all your wits, you pull my hand. Wrapped around the back of my neck, you say your boyfriend being busy is just an excuse, talking until you finally get drunk. Lovers will leave; you, freshly heartbroken, come to confess before your tears dry. Loneliness thus pulls my hand. After removing his keepsake, I have you without having you. But at least from now on, you and I become close friends.
When you close your eyes, who do you miss most? When you open them, who is actually by your side? Grateful that in the station, there is still a platform that lets us weep with satisfaction. Whether possessed or not, one will remember someone; whether happy or not, it stays within the body. If love could never be lost, why would you seek a partner today?
Everyone will leave; you, newly in love, realize we are not enough after all. Finding an excuse, you let go of my hand. Hidden behind sticker photos, has my苦心 ever blossomed? But having tried traveling to散心, how can I answer “no”?
When I close my eyes, who do I miss most? When I open them, who is actually by my side? Grateful that in the station, there is still a platform that once let us weep with satisfaction. Whether possessed or not, one will remember someone; whether happy or not, it will pass one day. If love is for never losing, who is勉强 entertaining whom? If love is hard to hold in your hands, why not place these hands into your heart?
Time will pass; I, freshly heartbroken, begin holding hands with others. But what can one truly possess? Wrapped around the back of that neck, the most beautiful long hair never stayed in my hand. Still, I drank happily.
”Next Year Today”#
The Second Layer of Pain: The Present Perfect Tense of “Next Year Today” When a breakup becomes an established fact in the present perfect tense, Lin Xi measures the half-life of emotions within a sixty-year cycle. The absurd, cross-temporal imagination of “Sixty years after leaving you / I hope I can recognize your children” is performed by Eason with restrained vibrato, like a bloody band-aid. The层层递进 repetition of “leaving” in the chorus is a time-delayed bomb thrown into the museum of memory, suddenly detonating all suppressed sorrow on some future sleepless night. This is not a love song; it is the amplified tremor of emotional fibers under a microscope.
Music: Chan Siu Ha | Lyrics: Lin Xi
If this cluster of pendant lights were to come crashing down, Perhaps I would no longer exist. Even if you don’t love me, there’s no need to part. If at this moment I were severely demented, I wouldn’t need love at all, forever dreaming in bed, Never to feel sorrow again for the rest of my life. People always need to survive bravely. I will make a wish again, For example, learning to endure heartbreak. Next year today, don’t lose sleep again. The bedding will have changed. If we are fortunate to meet, Perhaps at a companion’s wedding feast, I’ll wait anxiously for you to appear. Next year today, not having seen you for a year, Who would willingly change? Sixty years after leaving you, I hope I can recognize your children, And hear you say goodbye as we part. ~ ~ ~ Interlude ~ ~ ~ People always need to survive bravely. I will make a wish again, For example, learning to endure heartbreak. Next year today, don’t lose sleep again. The bedding will have changed. If we are fortunate to meet, Perhaps at a companion’s wedding feast, I’ll wait anxiously for you to appear. Next year today, not having seen you for a year, Who would willingly change? Sixty years after leaving you, I hope I can recognize your children, And hear you say goodbye as we part.
In the brief span of life, to have encountered you, I actually spent all my luck. Only today do I realize, I have breathed air.
”Under Mount Fuji”#
The Third Layer of Realization: The Future Tense of “Under Mount Fuji” When Tokyo cherry blossoms become a metaphysical symbol of love, Lin Xi deconstructs modern attachment with Eastern Zen philosophy. The paradox of “To possess, one must first understand how to accept loss” transforms, under Eason’s举重若轻 breathy delivery, into the snow line of Mount Fuji piercing the morning mist. Those lines roared in KTV, “Who can claim Mount Fuji as their own out of love?” will eventually settle into philosophical propositions with the flow of time—the most sophisticated painkiller, it turns out, is embroidering the wound into a标本 of enlightened red leaves.
Singer: Eason Chan | Composer: Christopher Chak Lyrics: Lin Xi | Arrangement: Chan Pak / C. Y. Kong
The拦路 rain resembles snowflakes; are you, weeping, cold? This windbreaker I gave you is worn to the point of having lapel flowers. Even不怕 being transferred, why do I still牵挂? 苦心 choosing today to drive you home.
Forgive me for not sending flowers anymore; wounds should scab over. Petals covering the graveyard in my heart are what I fear. If you insist on marrying no one but me, we will both end up火化. Waiting a lifetime for one day requires a price.
Everyone only has those two hands; even拥抱 cannot let you possess. To possess, one must first understand how to accept loss. Once wandered along snowy paths; why shed tears for good things? Who can claim Mount Fuji as their own out of love?
Why not假设 the feeling of sorrow comes from your own虚构? In a test tube, you won’t find her staining your eyes. The past hardens like stone;随缘地 cast it away and flee. I am by no means rare; walk around the street once, And I will vanish into thin air.
On Valentine’s Day, don’t say it out loud;只敢 stroke your hair ends. Could this姿态 make you feel even more心酸? Staying in the car to warm up; how should I劝? How can one忍痛划损 their wrist?
How many years count as a short life? Heartbreak is even shorter. How many miles home? Who can predict? Forget the恩怨 between you and me;樱花 have bloomed several cycles. The Tokyo trip早已 feels more遥远 than a lifetime.
Everyone only has those two hands; even拥抱 cannot let you possess. To possess, one must first understand how to accept loss. Once wandered along snowy paths; why shed tears for good things? Who can claim Mount Fuji as their own out of love?
Why not假设 the feeling of sorrow comes from your own虚构? In a test tube, you won’t find her staining your eyes. The past hardens like stone;随缘地 cast it away and flee. I am by no means rare; walk around the street once, And I will vanish into thin air.
Everyone’s gotta… even拥抱 cannot let you possess. To possess, one must first understand how to accept loss. Once wandered along snowy paths; why shed tears for good things? Who can claim Mount Fuji as their own out of love?
Why not假设 the feeling of sorrow comes from your own虚构? In a test tube, you won’t find her staining your eyes. The past hardens like stone;随缘地 cast it away and flee. I am by no means rare; walk around the street once, And I will vanish into thin air.
This trilogy is like a prism refracting the full spectrum of heartbreak: from the怅惘 of the流动盛宴 in “People Coming and Going,” to the pain of the时光切片 in “Next Year Today,” finally arriving at the禅意超脱 of “Under Mount Fuji.” When Eason in our headphones sheds all the tears we should have shed with his throat, we finally understand: the so-called heartbreak clinic is merely a涅槃道场 built by Lin Xi with Cantonese rhymes, and Eason Chan is forever the佛系主刀 who knows best how to sing despair into poetry.
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