这个杀手不太冷

'I felt like I just started my career again': British Elvis revivalist finds his voice in China_我的网站

无心法师

一 |

Elliot James Reay sings on stage at a Chinese live show. Photo: Courtesy of UMG
Elliot James Reay could have copied every other Western act and sung a Taylor Swift cover. Instead, he took 1950s rock'n'roll to a live TV show where autotune is switched off and discovered a version of fame that Britain has forgotten.
Elliot James Reay was traveling in the US, trying to finish a song, when his manager called. There was an invitation to join Singer 2026, a prime-time live music show in China. Reay didn't hesitate. He had traveled the world before he was a full-time musician, but had run out of money before reaching China. "I went everywhere but China," he said while sitting for an interview with the Global Times, sitting in the office of his label in Beijing, from which the Palace Museum can be seen not far away.
Reay is, in the West, a very 2020s kind of artist. He began posting short covers on short video platform TikTok in 2019; during the UK Covid lockdown, he chose to focus on growing his fan base. He now has millions of followers across platforms, and his debut single notched 10 million views before it was even released. In the British industry, this is both a leg-up and a trap. "You can have all the followers," he says, "but they don't guarantee people will buy tickets."
In China, that equation flipped.
Elliot James Reay sings on stage at a Chinese live show. Photo: Courtesy of UMG

Elliot James Reay sings on stage Photo: Courtesy of UMG
Nervous again
The Chinese show, Singer 2026 is broadcast completely live, with no pitch correction. For Reay, who had played enough small gigs to feel comfortable in his own skin, it was a shock. "I haven't felt nerves in a long time," he says. "But I've never been in a competition before. To have my singing judged against other people made me really nervous."
He watched Week One's performances from the wings and saw why. "The standard was terrifying," he says.
But the format, he admits, is something the UK no longer has: a televised singing contest that treats vocal ability as a public event, not a pre-packaged product. "It made me feel like I just started my career again."
Reay's lane is retro. Not as pastiche, but as lineage. He wears the silhouette of Elvis Presley, sings in the grain of 1950s pop, and writes songs that sound like they were cut from a Sun Records demo. He could have sanded it down for Chinese audiences, but he didn't.
"Someone has to start the wave before you can see it," he says. Among the songs he performed were "Unchained Melody" and his original track "I Think They Call This Love," which he co-wrote with his girlfriend. He points out that the Beatles still sit next to Taylor Swift on the radio, and that pop started in the 50s. "It's the foundations of pop," he says.
Learning to feel the words
In the final, Reay performed a bilingual version of the Chinese song "Hou Hui Wu Qi" (The End of the World). It was his first time singing in another language. He spent five days learning the Chinese lyrics, listening to the original on loop.
"There are sounds in Chinese we just don't have in English," he says. "I couldn't hear the difference at first. I'd say it, and Helen (his translator) would say, 'No.' I thought I was saying the same thing." Eventually, he stopped trying to hear it and started trying to feel it. "It became more about how it felt to say it. How I place my tongue in my mouth," he says.
He didn't understand the meaning until day three. "Helen gave me a card with the Chinese characters and the English translation. It's very poetic," he says. The performance received a strong reaction, with it being called an attempt at "cultural fusion."
He had saved his own original, "I Think They Call This Love," co-written with his girlfriend, for the same final. He had held the song back deliberately. "I knew that any week was my last week," he says, "but I knew that if I made it to the grand final that I had to do it then." He had no idea it would become the last song of the entire show.
When he finished, he walked straight off stage, took his girlfriend's hand, and the two of them left together, a moment that trended on Chinese social media that night.
The song is about the exact point they realized they were in love; it was also the first track of his career he fully believed in and pushed into the world. Having her there to watch it live, after weeks of her only seeing performances on a phone in a hotel room, "tied the whole thing in a bow at the end."
A touring musician, not a TikToker
Reay is open about the tension between his origin story and his ambition. "I don't want to be a TikTok celebrity," he says. "I'm a musician. I want to tour."
The platform gave him an audience, but it also boxed him in. He remembers friends who wrote incredible songs during lockdown, while he chose to build a fan base. Now, he says, some of those friends have had to stop writing and make TikTok videos instead.
China, he says, gave him permission to be both an online creator and a live performer. Universal Music, his label, didn't push him to chase trends. "They never said, 'Do this, do that,'" he says. "They supported what I wanted to sing, and then they made it the best version they could."
Before Reay, a string of international artists had already found warm receptions and career-shifting opportunities in China. Kazakhstani singer Dimash Kudaibergen, Malaysian star Shila Amzah, US country artist Mickey Guyton, British vocalist Jessie J, and French singer-songwriter Joyce Jonathan all won large Chinese audiences through high-profile television appearances and live performances, each using the platform to open a new chapter in their careers.
He's already planning a return. He wants to bring a tour. He wants to buy the traditional instruments he saw on set and take them home to England. "I'm going to learn how to play them," he says, "and maybe put them into my music."
The advice he'd give other Western artists looking East is to stay loyal to yourself. "Be yourself," he says. "It's very easy to want to change yourself to fit into a market, but at the end of the day, if you stay true to yourself, you'll be happy."
"In the UK, I felt like I needed to do other things to make other people happy," he says.
"If I hadn't stopped doing that, I wouldn't be sitting here. I wouldn't have done the show. My whole journey would be different," he says.
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二 | 　　8月25日上午，济南黄岗路黄河隧道通车，网友自驾过河，最直观的感受就是“时间被折叠了”。

三 | 济南跨黄河有了“5分钟解决方案” 　　过去，“过河”是济南人的一件大事儿。无论卖菜、送货、办事，还是走亲戚串门儿，都不是动动嘴、抬抬腿从这边到对岸那么简单，更像是横在心理上的一道坎儿。“过河”往往意味着负重绕路、提前赶车、爬坡交费、堵车排队;若走浮桥，还得忍着忽忽悠悠、咣咣当当的心惊肉跳。对济南人来说，早年间每一次跨黄出行，都是一次耐受力挑战。现在局面大不一样，真的是“五步一桥，十步一隧”了。黄岗路隧道此次开通，更为西部片区“跨黄出行”补上关键拼图。尤其从南岸的蓝翔中路与北岸的G309互通立交，车辆驶入隧道，5分钟穿越黄河，与从前动辄小半天的体验相比，真的是“想都不敢想”。济南跨黄河有了“5分钟解决方案” 　　“5分钟过河”，于城市是区域链接的宏大叙事，但再宏大的事情，最终也要交给每一位市民，用日子里的脚程来丈量。它会落进每人每天的上下班、接送孩子、办事就医、走亲访友这些具体场景。

四 | 黄岗路黄河隧道设计时速60公里，单洞双层布置，上层自南向北、下层自北向南，双向通行一次完成，公交、消防、管理及救援车辆也能顺畅通行。5分钟，意味着城市打通“任督二脉”，起到了“一路通，满盘活”的效果。

五 | 通勤成本降低、生活半径扩大，带来心理距离拉近——以前觉得黄河北岸是与己无关的地方，现在因“触手可及”而能“常来常往”，于是愿意“躬身入局”，选择在此工作、生活、上学、消费。

六 | 慢慢没了心理障碍，多了未来预期，黄河就不再是必须绕行的屏障，而是可以高效穿越的城市内部空间，从地理上的“隔河相望”走向生活中的“同城可达”。　　“5分钟过河”，不仅是缩短了时间，更改变了城市格局，让黄河天堑有了“5分钟解决方案”。对济南来说，黄河穿城而过，既是生态廊道，也是城市拓展的重要轴线。一条隧道，连起的不是两个出入口，而是两个方向的发展机会。企业选址、人才流动、商业布局、居住选择，都会因通行效率提升而发生变化。过去相对独立的南北板块，将在更紧密联系中形成协同。

七 | 更重要的是，黄岗路黄河隧道与既有穿黄通道共同构成更完善的跨河交通体系，使南北两岸联系不再依赖单一线路，而是形成多通道、网络化支撑。城市交通越有韧性，区域发展就越有底气。济南跨黄河有了“5分钟解决方案” 　　从新闻报道中可以看到，关于这条隧道，在技术上有很多值得称道的地方，不乏“世界最大”“国内首条”的表述，这背后是对复杂难题的系统破解。

八 | 黄岗路黄河隧道所形成的成套技术体系、专利成果和智能建造经验，不仅服务本地发展，也为我国水下交通隧道建设提供了重要样本。全线布设洗墙灯亮化系统，改善传统隧道昏暗环境;智能轨道巡检机器人实现全域自主巡检;AI图像火灾探测系统提升应急处置能力……这些设计表明，隧道建设并没有停留在“打通”层面，而是进一步把“建好”延伸为“管好”“用好”“服务好”。