秦时明月之君临天下

辽宁开展民族团结进步创建培训 4000余名基层人员参训_我的网站

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 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.
。

二 |     中新网沈阳8月21日电(杨茜茜)20日，辽宁省民族和宗教事务委员会举办民族团结进步创建进社区专题培训班，全省4500余名省、市、县民族工作干部，乡镇(街道)民族工作负责同志、村(社区)书记，通过线上线下相结合的方式参训。         　　本次培训依托辽宁民宗数治平台视频会议系统，省民族和宗教委设主会场，各市、县(市、区)设立117个分会场，是辽宁省民族团结进步创建“互观互学”活动的深化延续。                   图为沈阳市和平区北市场街道安图社区党委书记齐姝莉在培训班上分享民族团结进步创建进社区工作经验。辽宁省民族和宗教委供图          　　培训邀请社区书记现场授课。全国民族团结进步模范集体沈阳市和平区北市场街道安图社区党委书记齐姝莉、全省民族团结进步示范单位本溪市明山区新明街道观山悦社区党委书记闫星宇，结合鲜活事例交流民族团结进步创建进社区、互嵌式社区建设工作经验。

三 | 安图社区“石榴工坊”品牌、“五个互嵌”实践，观山悦社区“三个三”工作法，受到参训人员好评。                   图为本溪市明山区新明街道观山悦社区党委书记闫星宇介绍“三个三”工作法与互嵌式社区建设实践。辽宁省民族和宗教委供图          　　培训班采取“基层出题、部门反馈、典型示范”模式解疑释惑。

四 | 前期通过座谈会、走访调研收集基层需求，一对一解答社区工作遇到的个性问题。                   图为辽宁省民族团结进步创建进社区工作培训班主会场现场。辽宁省民族和宗教委供图          　　省民族和宗教委业务处室负责同志肯定基层创建成效，解读创建进社区重大意义、工作任务和相关标准，对市、县民族工作部门支持社区深化创建作出工作指导。         　　参训人员表示，培训理清思路、明确方向，将把民族团结进步创建融入社区业务，以铸牢中华民族共同体意识为主线，推进互嵌式社区建设。         　　下一步，辽宁将持续开展民族团结进步创建“七进+N”系列培训，打通“点到点”现场观摩、“端到端”经验分享渠道，推动创建工作从“有形覆盖”向“有效融合”深化，为新时代辽宁全面振兴新突破凝聚人心、汇聚力量。(完)                【编辑:蔡星雨】。

Current article:http://prql.yindabobiehonggaonumiao.bond/list_kqa348/caeqk.html

Published on:15:09:02