On April 5, 2025, Swarthmore College’s students, professors, and community members witnessed a strikingly thoughtful senior recital by Cui Yixin, a senior majoring in philosophy and minoring in music. The program, exploring the Chinese literati and musical tradition of “polished jade” that has shined for two thousand years, enthralled the audience.
An international student from Fujian, China, Yixin selected twelve songs from their home culture and titled the recital “20th- & 21st-century Chinese Composers.” They envisioned the performance not only as an exploration of their personal connection to their cultural roots but also as an “ironic protest” against Swarthmore’s Western-centric music curriculum. They infused the recital, dedicated to the “classics of China,” with personal, cultural, and political significance. East-Asian metaphors and emotional gravity set the performance’s tone, adorned by occasional tongue-in-cheek comments and dark humor.
The recital opened with Guanju, an “almost epic or tragic” piece and the first poem in the Book of Songs, the oldest existing Chinese poetry anthology. The composer, Zhao Jiping, was one of the most influential figures in shaping contemporary Chinese musical identity. By choosing such a canonized poem to begin their recital, Yixin invited the audience to delve into the rich spectacle of Chinese literature, music, and history.
Yixin arranged Guanju for voice, piano, cello, as well as dizi and guzheng (both traditional Chinese instruments), weaving Eastern and Western timbres. They were intrigued by how the original text’s “romantic” and “adorable” connotations was later reinterpreted with patriotism as generations of scholars equated romantic love to devotion to one’s country. “What the text means does not matter,” Yixin said. “They are supposed to be musically very solemn and heroic.”
This deliberate patriotic reinterpretation reflects the deep connections between Chinese politics, literature, and music across history. Since Confucius, literature and music are regarded as the highest expression of one’s refined inner quality. A social structure idolizing high art and bounded by etiquette was desired, and governments politicized spontaneous artistic expressions from the classical period for educational purposes.
Yixin curated and presented a diverse cluster of Chinese poetic forms set to music. From ancient-style poetry to regulated verse – from Su Shi’s Song lyrics to Sewinch Qaya’s Yuan Lyrics – the program offered a sweeping journey through literary and musical forms.
One highlight was a Yuan lyrics piece by a Uyghur scholar, depicting “an [unforgettable] evening of a heterosexual couple.” (As Yixin said this into a microphone during the performance, a wave of laughter tore through the audience). In the hush that followed, their chant captured that evening’s euphoric yet fleeting essence, their virtuoso voice gliding seamlessly between joy and sorrow. In another piece, “Dusk,” a pan-tonal song set to the words of contemporary “Misty” poet Shu Ting, Yixin masterfully navigated the complicated scales, glitching between the narrator’s imagination and reality.
“Chinese art songs only have about a hundred years of history,” Yixin said. “But I still wanted to include something from every period.” They succeeded with sensitivity, intention, and remarkable skill.
My personal favorite among all of their compelling pieces was “Saijoutai Yamata-Kitan,” a phrase that makes no sense in Japanese, Chinese, or English. Thankfully, Yixin offered a delightfully convoluted background: originally written by Italian composer Perotin, the piece was brought to the Korean peninsula by famous Venetian explorer Marco Polo. According to mythological records and Yixin’s program, a giant shellfish “vomited a cluster of mist and cloud,” where a monk dwelled and translated the piece into Japanese. From there, it was passed down through Asian sinologists, merchants, and American and Soviet spies. Finally, the last anonymous keeper of the script transcribed their memory to Yixin the day before the recital, prompting them to add it to the program impromptu.
Though the audience may have guessed that the explanation was entirely fabricated, that in no way stopped them from being impressed. The title, “Saijoutai Yamata-Kitan,” is a collage of East Asian wordplay. “Yamata” is an archaic name for Japan, while “Kitan” resembles the name of the Liao Dynasty in Chinese history (Khitan), also meaning “a mysterious tale” in both Japanese and Chinese. “Saijoutai,” when translated into Chinese, secretly rhymes with Yixin’s surname “Cui.” The entire piece was woven together by these quirky puns and cultural references – meanings that only reveal themselves through a Swarthmorean cross-linguistic interpretation.
The piece’s title paled in comparison to its dazzling instrumentation. Yixin used over a dozen East Asian percussion instruments, from the shō and hichiriki to paiban, wood block, finger cymbals, and flexatone. Wearing a traditional mask, Yixin chanted and struck the instruments as if conducting a sacred ritual. The spectacle was at once grand, absurd, and playful, perfectly echoing their intent of “ironic protest.”
The recital concluded with “Eastward Flows the River,” an art song set to Su Shi’s Song lyrics “Meditating on the Past at the Red Cliff.” Using the Yangtze River as a metaphor for history flowing, the lyrics lament the fleeting nature of human effort and glory, contrasted with the eternal rhythm of nature. The performance closed in a whirl of historical profoundness and fervent applause from the audience.
When I interviewed Yixin after the recital, they spoke to me in their characteristic tone of self-mockery : “I apparently failed [to achieve the standard from professor Levinson’s very wholesome comment], ‘You have a knack for sharing your obviously extensive knowledge in an engaging and charming way, without pretension.’” They also said they were happy that the feedback was in general positive, and that the musicians enjoyed being part of the experience. What they were most proud of, though, was “showcas[ing] my compulsive tongue-in-cheek-ness or borderline NPD egoism that is often [non authoritatively] perceived as the sassy queerness, my non-native-speaker-ness, and Yixin-core (cr. Aaron) style of use of vocabulary and musical language.” Well, Yixin, you’ve certainly done a good job. Thank you so much for putting together such a wonderful recital, and the Swarthmore community wishes you all the best in your future endeavors.
