In 2003, MC Jin had a prophecy: “Y’all gonna learn Chinese.” Jin’s rise through 106 and Park’s Freestyle Friday was almost as precipitous as his fall into irrelevance, but two decades later, a growing cloud rap scene in China is vindicating his prediction. Chengdu rapper jackzebra (Zhang Zheng Kai) raps in an Auto-Tuned slurry that leaves even native Mandarin speakers scratching their heads. His new mixtape, 王中王 (King of Kings), is a 74-minute, 35-track behemoth with about as many collaborators, drawn from enigmatic sub-1000-follower SoundCloud producer cabals as well as vaunted crews like Surf Gang (Evilgiane, Harto Falion). The listless, soupy textures of Zhang’s voice render a certain Chinese urban ennui palpable across language barriers. But jackzebra is neither Zoomer Jin nor Chinese Bladee (as a recent meme put it); if anything, his wispy Auto-Tune draws from Izaya Tiji. Nonetheless, a dive into his lyrics reveals an artist coming into form as a poet and performer, speaking to an alienation that’s both informed by his local surroundings and resonant with a global post-COVID generation.
It would be easy to write off jackzebra as a gimmick. His tag samples a ribald clip by YouTuber MoistCr1TiKaL. One of the tracks here has him repeat “I’ll always be fucking your mom” at least eight times in a row (“我永远的在操着你的妈”). And his pre-2022 output is a mixture of poorly mixed English-language shitposts and pitchy mumbling over Taobao knockoff CashCache! type beats. More than Bladee, Zhang and 626company co-founders 1kbps and (now ex-member) ricky_118 were inspired early on by Lil B’s prolific antics and Ambien flow; established in 2020, his crew’s name is a tongue-in-cheek reference to the International Day Against Drug Abuse and Illicit Trafficking, which falls on June 26th.
Beijing-based YEAR0001 signee Bloodz Boi cuts closer to the Swedish school of cloud rap, bridging the club and the internet with his label S!LK. But it was “Lanzhou Ramen,” a viral comedy rap single from frequent Bloodz Boi collaborators 3Bangz and Vicious Boy, that served as an early influence for Zhang. When the two eventually linked, Bloodz Boi saw potential—jackzebra’s prolific output just needed a bit of polish. He encouraged Zhang to focus on rapping in Chinese and gave him tips on making the most out of his cheap recording setup. By the time jack1888 mixtape dropped in 2023, with nearly 30 collaborators including Slayworld collective’s wifi and Shanghai hyperpop phenom Billionhappy, Bloodz Boi was calling Zhang “China’s Lil B.” From seeing Bloodz Boi and Organ Tapes perform at Shanghai’s ALL Club in 2019 to sharing a stage with Bloodz Boi and miriamdola in 2022, jackzebra’s rise was facilitated by IRL links with URL friends.
The difference between 王中王 and his early output is night and day. While Bloodz Boi wields plainspoken poignancy in his lyrics, jackzebra modulates between literary chengyu (four-character idioms) and to-the-point emotionality. “The wind, flowers, snow, and moon/Block my eyes/The lights are splendid/Lost in the Grand Prospect Garden,” he raps, using a Song Dynasty chengyu and referencing the classic 18th-century novel Dream of the Red Chamber in the same existential bar (“风花雪月 / 遮住了我的眼 / 灯火辉煌 / 迷失在大观园”). Bringing things back down to earth, he tries to speak confidence into existence amid crippling self-doubt—“I will work hard/I will make progress/I will be happy/I feel fulfilled”—against a Devstacks-like beat with uplifting orchestral synths and Yeat bells (“我会努力 / 我会上进 / 我很开心 / 我很满意”). It’s hard to believe the same internet trickster that made culinary BasedGod ripoffs in 2020 is now the scene’s foremost Chinese lyricist, moving effortlessly between references to both classic literature and Jay Chou.
The tape’s bombastic title belies Zhang’s deep ambivalence. Beginning with the grandiose, MIDI-horn regalia of the thr6x-produced opening run, the record moves into darker, distorted rage territory before balancing angelic, JRPG sanctuary soundscapes with sad, piano-based trap ballads through the second half. When he falls in love, it’s a painful affair. When he disses his haters, he’s not angry; just disappointed. When he boasts, it’s weighted by heavy-is-the-crown angst and deep-seated impostor syndrome: “I am king/King of kings… Covering up my low self-esteem with a few million/Waiting for your folks to come and talk to me,” he raps on the title track (“我是王 / 王中的王...拿着几百万掩盖住我的自卑 / 等你的亲人们来找我聊聊”). By the end of the record, he’s alone at the top: “Can’t let my guard down around my enemies/New friends mean new crises,” he intones above crystalline piano melodies. “Abuse yourself, become a king” (“永远不能对敌人掉以轻心 / 新的朋友对于我等于新的危机...虐待自己变成王”).
Part of Zhang’s appeal is that he represents the everyman. Unlike other drain-minded Sinophone rappers, whose futuristic outfits seem to come straight out of Tetsuya Nomura’s sketchbook, Zhang Zheng Kai is just some guy: On each album cover and Instagram post he appears in nearly the same pose, with an overgrown crew cut, a basic shirt, hands at his side, staring emotionlessly into the camera. Walk by him on the street and you wouldn’t blink an eye: “I’m a regular guy/I’m not like you guys/Not much of a backstory/Sounds bland when I say it” (“我是个普通人 / 跟你们不一样 / 没什么背景故事 / 说出来清汤寡水”). Beneath the luxuriant synths and dreamy textures, Zhang is another young Chinese man living far from home, replying “Okay ma, got it” when his mother texts with Rosie Watson-esque concern (“好吗好的”).
So when he raps about the social anxieties of China’s Gen-Z city dwellers—widening income gaps, a brutal job market, 996 work culture, rapid urbanization—it feels real. “What’s so great about Shanghai and Hangzhou?/I lived there for 22 dark years/Foreign-worshippers crawling everywhere,” he raps, denouncing the decadence of China’s coastal cities as a Shandong guy who grew up in Shanghai and now lives in Chengdu (“上海杭州有什么好的 / 我住了二十二年日子全是暗的”). Later, he paints a picture of class anxiety worthy of Lu Xun: “I’m afraid of seeing my homies in Land Rovers/If I see it, I’ll be pressed/Why do I have to work so hard?/Driving a fake Tesla, picking up riders” (“就怕兄弟开路虎 / 看见心里肯定不舒服 / 为什么我这么辛苦 / 却还要开杂牌电车等乘客上路”).
Hardly any of this is audibly intelligible through his flow, half hum and half mumble, filtered through a blanket of Auto-Tune and reverb. Contemporaries like User116 and CyberMade at least enunciate their words before sending them to the signal chain. Zhang raps like he’s brushing his teeth at the same time, and it takes multiple listens to hear how his performances correspond to his written lyrics. But rapping like he does, jackzebra turns his emotions into pure sound while circumventing the structures of the language; standard flows don’t necessarily mesh easily with Chinese tones. More than his peers, Zhang playfully reconfigures Chinese itself. And while the (sometimes dubiously mixed) beats by mostly Western producers might work against a claim that 王中王 represents a Chinese sound, this tension between nationalism and Western influence is yet more grist for Zhang’s mill. So when the record closes with Wanting and Wang Zheng samples in “Silence Is a Weapon” (“沉默是一种武器,” produced by New Zealander goonyears) and “Race Traitor” (“汉奸,” produced by Guizhou’s DJ GONORRHEA), the wash of schmaltzy C-pop sentimentality gestures at a level of measured pride in Zhang’s local soundscape.
“It’s just me/One microphone, talking to the screen,” he laments on “Untitled” (“无题”) to close the record (“只有自己一个人 / 一个麦克风对着屏幕前自言自语”). 王中王 is the story of a young man coming into his own. Riding a piano melody that could appear in the credit roll of the next Xenoblade Chronicles, Zhang finds a quiet resilience to take him into whatever the future might hold. Gone are any pretensions of grandeur. What’s left is an affirmation couched in reproach: “How can you fight if you don’t have the strength/They’ll never respect you/Unless you start respecting yourself first” (“没有力气还怎么拼 / 他们永远不会尊重你 / 除非你先开始尊重你自已”). Some argue that music in the plugg spectrum is more tone than text; 王中王 brings the two together in a beautiful zone of indistinction.
Correction: “Lanzhou Ramen” is by 3Bangz and Vicious Boy; it is not by Bloodz Boi. This review has been updated.
