The sky looked almost blue in Changsha today. Lee, our sound technician, knew the reason behind this: the government have organised for silver compound explosives to be sent into the clouds of smog to clear them for the Olympics, similar to the methods used at the Sydney Olympics in 2000. I'm not sure why they need to do this as far south as Changsha. Maybe they thought they might as well do the whole country while they were at it, or maybe they're only de-misting Beijing and I'm imagining things. The explosions provoke rain containing the pollution, so I'm going to make sure I carry my umbrella with me from now on.

Ellis and I left the hotel early this morning to try to find the flea market that refused to allow P.K.14 (and their camera crew of one) access yesterday. We only had a basic hand-drawn map to assist us, and illegal markets tend not to have names, only instructions like "opposite old building". We had almost given up hope, when Ellis spied some racks of clothes behind a glass door. This had to be at the same moment that I pulled out my camera to take a picture of the street outside. Before he had time to stick a foot in the door, the shutters were pulled down in front of our long faces. Imagine having to wait anxiously by your door all day in case a customer wanted to come in. Lua went by herself later and got in fine. She returned with a 50p dress.

Even though I'd done an interview with them already, I still had more to ask P.K.14. We took singer Yang Haisong and drummer Johnny to a nearby café to eat cold pear soup and drink cold tea. Conversation spanned not wanting to bring children into such an uncertain world; running a record label (Yang Haisong co-ran the Maybe Mars label for six months until it became too time-consuming); and the gig yesterday, at which the villagers made a collection of sweets and money to offer to the band.
These two went off to be interviewed by the local press, while we returned to the venue. It was the biggest one we've been to so far and is usually reserved for heavy metal nights. The support act was the Mogwai-loving post-rock band 48V, and it was quite interesting watching the band use a laptop as an instrument. I almost felt like I was back in London. For their day jobs, the three out of the four band members I spoke to teach biology, work as a copyright specialist for the government, or make music for video games. They also produce and distribute their own records, just like the Angry Jerks that we met on our first night in Nanjing.

One of 48V's girlfriends, Huang Jun Yao, was filming a documentary on the band, meaning there were two video cameras pointed at our table as I conducted the interview. She's from China but spent a year and a half in Paris, which has turned her into a petit Parisienne. She recently sold her Chinese advertising company to allow time for making films and writing her first part-autobiographical novel about life in Paris and China. Her first experimental music documentary, In the Moment of Improvisation, was shown at a Canadian film festival, though she didn't manage to get over there to attend the screening and I can only find one broken link on Google. She told me at the end of the night that she wants to return to Paris, where she felt a lot freer.

Click here for more about the Converse LoveNoise China Tour.