
我這幾天真有點(diǎn)發(fā)愁:正月里在低塘街道歷山村唱了20天,接著便趕到東村去唱5天,再去下一個(gè)預(yù)約的邵巷村唱20天。可東村的聽(tīng)書(shū)迷聽(tīng)了不過(guò)癮,要求把唱書(shū)的時(shí)間延長(zhǎng)到25天,唱了20天走不出來(lái),我怕邵巷村的書(shū)迷們不高興,還真有點(diǎn)左右為難呢!
歷山村我每年都要去兩次,每次不下一個(gè)月,有的村一唱就是兩個(gè)月。去年我在慈溪從8月開(kāi)唱到大年廿七才收?qǐng)觯医衲甑某獣?shū)預(yù)約已經(jīng)排到了10月份,但預(yù)約電話還在打個(gè)不停。干我們這一行第一要緊的是守信用,譜好了的曲、說(shuō)好了的事要規(guī)規(guī)矩矩去做。
聽(tīng)過(guò)我老宋唱書(shū)的都說(shuō)越聽(tīng)越有味道,雖然在書(shū)場(chǎng)配樂(lè)的只有一把盲人拉的四弦胡,道具只有幾把扇子,可我往臺(tái)前一站,只要靜木輕輕一拍,臺(tái)下就立時(shí)鴉雀無(wú)聲。
享受的是“明星”待遇
干我這一行最苦的是乍到一個(gè)新的村訪時(shí),因?yàn)楫?dāng)?shù)厝诉€沒(méi)聽(tīng)過(guò)唱書(shū),不知好賴,猛一看一個(gè)半老頭加一個(gè)拉胡琴的瞎子,這能有啥看頭?有時(shí)沒(méi)人給搭臺(tái)子,我只好往屋檐下面一站就唱開(kāi)了。不過(guò)往往是胡琴一響,開(kāi)口一唱,就不怕沒(méi)人來(lái),而且一兩天苦下來(lái),人就會(huì)越來(lái)越多,不少村都能來(lái)三五百人,多時(shí)院子里擠不下了,這時(shí)就有人提議搭臺(tái)子讓我唱書(shū)。如果老百姓主動(dòng)幫你搭臺(tái)子,就說(shuō)明你在這村扎穩(wěn)了,你下次再唱就不會(huì)讓你站在屋檐底下日曬雨淋地受那份罪,他們會(huì)連住處都幫你安頓好,而且會(huì)有許多戲迷拉你去吃飯,他們開(kāi)著奔馳、桑塔納來(lái)接你,哈哈,先苦后甜哩!
我唱書(shū)一般在晚上,人多的時(shí)候臺(tái)下黑壓壓的一片,有人放著《還珠格格》不看也要來(lái)聽(tīng)我宋百岳唱書(shū)。我在庵東唱了10天后又到勝山村唱,中間離了七八公里路,有不少人還偏偏追到勝山村來(lái)聽(tīng)呢,咱享受的可是“明星”待遇。
前幾天我在勝山東村唱到清官海瑞就要被殺頭時(shí)賣了個(gè)關(guān)子,打算第二天夜里再接著唱。卻不料當(dāng)夜就有十幾個(gè)戲迷找到我的住處來(lái)替海瑞說(shuō)情。嗨!我單憑一張嘴,哪會(huì)說(shuō)殺就殺,說(shuō)不殺就不殺呢?那些戲迷那可真叫癡,質(zhì)問(wèn)我:“海瑞為皇帝做過(guò)多少事、為國(guó)家立過(guò)多少功,這樣的清官為什么要?dú)⑺浚 彼麄儗幙厦咳颂蛶资X,也讓我在唱書(shū)中別把海瑞殺了。后來(lái)我說(shuō)到海瑞真的被殺時(shí),聽(tīng)者唱者都淚濕衣衫!……
人說(shuō)我是個(gè)活的“音匣子”
我只讀過(guò)兩年半書(shū),12歲開(kāi)始就跟著父親學(xué)“走書(shū)”。我的父親宋月明是原上虞虞廣紹劇團(tuán)的一名小生演員,他不但戲唱得好,吹拉彈唱全都不在話下。在父親的口傳下,什么四平調(diào)、四季調(diào)、馬燈調(diào)、五令調(diào)、楊青調(diào)等九調(diào)二十三腔我都學(xué)會(huì)了。
父親去世后,他教給我的幾出戲遠(yuǎn)不夠我在寧紹平原上闖蕩,因?yàn)橐呀?jīng)聽(tīng)過(guò)我唱書(shū)的老觀眾我不能讓他重復(fù)聽(tīng)老戲,所以有時(shí)我只得革新劇目。寧波走書(shū)三分說(shuō)七分唱,花樣很多,要表演得活靈活現(xiàn)不容易,我為了學(xué)新戲,我還到寧波市小百花藝術(shù)團(tuán)的老師那里去討教。
想想我剛跟父親登臺(tái)時(shí),唱了兩個(gè)村,肚子里的“存貨”就見(jiàn)底了,現(xiàn)在我千般角色一人當(dāng),一口氣能唱二十幾出戲,可以連續(xù)4個(gè)月不重樣,每出戲我都唱得滾瓜爛熟,所以別人說(shuō)我像個(gè)活的“音匣子”
一打開(kāi)就不會(huì)停下來(lái)。
過(guò)去的老先生傳下來(lái)的東西不能簡(jiǎn)單復(fù)制,于是我就給它來(lái)個(gè)“活學(xué)活用”。這些年經(jīng)我改編成唱詞的就有《玉連環(huán)》《綠龍袍》《狄青五虎將》《金龍鞭》《楊家將全傳》《綠牡丹》等十幾部古書(shū),不過(guò)我文化不高,書(shū)買回來(lái)好多字不認(rèn)識(shí),只得向字典求救。

我還經(jīng)常創(chuàng)作一些配合形勢(shì)的唱詞,穿插一些自編的小曲調(diào)來(lái)宣傳計(jì)劃生育,宣傳義務(wù)當(dāng)兵,有時(shí)候我下鄉(xiāng)走書(shū),聽(tīng)說(shuō)有的家庭因賭博夫妻之間鬧不和,我就到人家家中唱?jiǎng)袢私滟€的段子,好多本來(lái)喜歡打麻將賭錢的人,后來(lái)都離開(kāi)麻將桌,成了我的忠實(shí)戲迷。
寧波走書(shū)快斷香火了
我小時(shí)候家里窮,6個(gè)孩子中我是老大,到29歲了還娶不到妻。我的妻子和面積108平方米的兩層樓房都是我唱書(shū)唱來(lái)的。我掙的雖說(shuō)是辛苦錢,但一年到頭走村串巷,日子又自由又快活。我靠祖宗傳下來(lái)的藝術(shù)賺飯吃,把肚子里古老的曲調(diào)傳出去,這是一舉兩得的事情,但如今這年頭偏偏沒(méi)人愿意干了。
我們低塘街道湯家閘村解放前是有名的戲曲村,家家戶戶都是以唱戲?yàn)樯獗硌輰幉ㄗ邥?shū)的就有63個(gè)藝人,過(guò)去劇團(tuán)找好苗子都到我們村里挑,紹興劇團(tuán)幾個(gè)打鼓板拉琴的都是我們村里出去的,許多古老的曲調(diào)都是我們村里的老藝人傳下來(lái)的。可惜現(xiàn)在留下來(lái)的藝人老的老、死的死,后代中又無(wú)人繼承走書(shū),3000多人口的湯家閘村,如今走書(shū)的只有我一個(gè)人了。
過(guò)去我們村里的人空閑時(shí)大家伙兒圍在一起,你吹嗩吶,他拉胡琴,你方唱罷我登臺(tái),有唱蓮花落的,有唱余姚灘簧的,有唱越劇的,有唱鳳陽(yáng)花鼓的,還有唱京劇和黃梅戲的,往一塊兒一湊就是熱熱鬧鬧的一臺(tái)戲。現(xiàn)在沒(méi)人唱了,想聽(tīng)?wèi)蜻€要請(qǐng)外面的劇團(tuán)來(lái)唱。唉,戲曲村說(shuō)起來(lái)難為情呵!就說(shuō)我的兒子吧,他當(dāng)了幾年兵,退伍后搞起了模具制作,根本無(wú)心學(xué)我這一行,等孫子長(zhǎng)大怕是來(lái)不及了,父?jìng)鞯淖邥?shū)看來(lái)要在我手里斷香火,我已經(jīng)是村里最后一個(gè)吃這碗飯的人了!現(xiàn)在我真的很想收個(gè)徒弟,只要能把這香火傳下去,哪怕包吃包住免費(fèi)教我也樂(lè)意,唉,學(xué)點(diǎn)祖宗留下來(lái)的“土貨”有什么不好?再說(shuō)寧波走書(shū)也很有市場(chǎng),不但鄉(xiāng)下的農(nóng)民愛(ài)聽(tīng),連城里的居民要求我去演唱的也越來(lái)越多。寧波走書(shū)應(yīng)該流傳下去,老祖宗的東西我們后人怎么好隨便丟掉呢?
(本文圖片由余姚日?qǐng)?bào)、鄞州文化館分別供稿)

相關(guān)鏈接:
寧波走書(shū),又名蓮花文書(shū),同(治)光(緒)年間由上虞流傳至余姚農(nóng)村,是一種很受群眾歡迎的地方曲藝。其表演形式大致可分為三個(gè)發(fā)展階段:先是一人自拉自唱的“坐唱”;后有簡(jiǎn)單的伴奏,演員坐在桌后唱、表演,樂(lè)隊(duì)坐在桌旁,因動(dòng)作幅度較小,稱為“里走書(shū)”;再后,演員與樂(lè)隊(duì)相對(duì)各坐一旁,演員在臺(tái)上有較大空間可作表演圈,稱為“外走書(shū)”由于蓮花文書(shū)從坐唱發(fā)展到站起來(lái)表演,分口飾角色,這樣演員在臺(tái)上動(dòng)作的幅度比較大了,“寧波走書(shū)”之名也由此而來(lái)。建國(guó)后,寧波走書(shū)進(jìn)行了多次改革和創(chuàng)新,在表演方面已發(fā)展到男女雙檔,伴奏的力量也加強(qiáng)了。近期,由于種種原因,和許多地方曲藝一樣,寧波走書(shū)日漸衰微。
The Last Village Minstrel
Related by Song Baiyue, Written by Padiguli
Editor’s Note: Traveling storytelling has been an age-old art in rural Ningbo. Song Baiyue is the last minstrel from the village of Tangjiazha (The Tang Family’s Watergate) with a population of over 3,000. The village had 63 traveling storytellers in its prime time. Here the last village minstrel tells his story.
I am gravely concerned about myself these days. In the first month of this year I performed 20 consecutive days in the Village of Lishan. Then I traveled to Dong Village and spent five days there telling a story. The next village on my tour was Shaoxiang where I was to perform for 20 days. But the people in Dong Village forced me to stay and asked me to extend the 5-day show to 20 days. I am worried that the people in Shaoxiang will be displeased by my delay.

I visit the village of Lishan twice a year. Each performance there lasts at least a month. In some villages, I sing for two months. Last year, I started in August in Cixi and the last show ended two nights before the eve of the Spring Festival. This year I am already booked to October and phone calls keep coming in for more shows. The first principle in my business is to keep my word. My fans say that my art is becoming better. I have only one blind-man play a four-string Huqin as accompaniment and I use only a few fans as prop, but the audience become silent the moment I bang the silence wood on the table.
The hardest thing for a storyteller on the road is his first visit to a village, for no one there knows anything about the storytelling art. A man who is on the far side of his middle age and an accompanist who is blind do not inspire interest at all. So in such a case, I just start a show under the eave of a house. Once they hear the Huqin and my singing, they come to watch and listen. Usually, after one night or two, a big crowd gathers. In some villages, we can draw a crowd of 500 people. As soon as a courtyard can no longer contain a crowd, someone will suggest setting up a stage and booking me for telling a long story. If they offer to set up a stage for us in the first few days, we will not start our show under an eave next time. They will arrange everything for us in advance. They even drive a Benz and come all the way to take us to the village.
In a show just a few days ago, I stopped my storytelling deliberately at a crucial moment when Hai Rui, an honest official of the Ming Dynasty, was about to be executed. I planned to resume the story the next evening. After the show that night, more than 10 fans crowded into my room and begged me not to let Hai Rui die. How could a person like me have the final say in anyone’s death or life? They cornered me with their angry protests: “He did so many things for the emperor and he made so many contributions to the state. How can you kill such an honest official??They even offered to chip in and pay me a small fortune to change the script and let the character live. When Hai Rui died in the following evening, the audience cried and I cried.
All my school education added up to only two and half years. I started learning the storytelling art from my father at 12. My father was an actor with a rural troupe. He was a good singer and good at playing all kinds of instruments. I learned all the nine tunes and twenty-three melodies from him. After he passed away, the repertoire I got from him was not good enough for me to stage shows in villages across rural Ningbo and Shaoxing. The audiences who heard my stories want new stories. So I have added new ones to my repertoire. My performance consists of 30% talking and 70% singing. There are many tricks to make a show good. In order to make good shows, I have learned new skills from masters with the Ningbo 100 Little Flowers Yuejue Opera Troupe.
When I first followed my father on a tour, I ran out of my stories after performances in two villages. Now, I act all the characters in my stories and I can tell stories for four months without any repetition. They say I am a walking radio and once I am turned on I will never stop.

It is not good enough to sing songs made by old artists. Over the past few years, I have adapted more than 10 classic stories and added them to my repertoire. With my poor school education, I had difficulty reading these stories, but I checked new words out in a dictionary.
I now and then create some short songs to make people aware of current affairs. I encourage people to take part in family planning programs or sign up to join the army. Sometimes I urge villagers to stay away from gambling. Many of my fans used to be mahjong addicts.
Our family was poor when I was a kid. I was the first of 6 children. I was not able to marry when I was 29. But I made enough money to marry and build a two-story house of 108 square meters. Though tours are hard and money comes by through sweat, I am happy and free. I learned the art of our fathers and I entertain people with the art. But the days of the art seem numbered.
My home village was full of actors and musicians before 1949. For a while, there were 63 fellow villagers making a living by traveling and telling stories, let alone the villagers engaged in other kinds of shows. Troupes came to our village to recruit. Some troupes in Shaoxing had accompanists and percussionists from our villages. Some ancient tunes were passed down to us from our ancestors in the village. But some of these artists have died and some are too old to travel and stage a show. No one in the younger generation is willing to carry on the art. The village has more than 3,000 residents and I am the only storyteller now. In the past, the village did not need to invite troupes from outside. We could stage a performance easily. Now we feel shamed when we invite a troupe from outside to entertain us.
My son was in the army for a few years and now he is in a mold-making business. He has no wish to learn the art from me. When my grandson is old enough to learn, I am afraid I will be too old to teach. I am willing to pay for boarding and meals to teach a disciple. I feel bad that the good things I got from my father will be lost.
The storytelling art is as good as these trendy things today. It is popular in Ningbo, not just with villagers. More and more people in the city want to hear my stories. The art has every right to live. We can not afford to let the art of our fathers die.
(Translated by David)