Chongqing - In the sweltering heat of August, even the nights in Chongqing offer little relief. Yet under a riverside bridge arch along the Jialing River, the city pulses with different energy: a free grassroots concert, where music enthusiasts gather, phone flashlights raised like stars against the summer sky.

A singer performing on stage. (Photo/Liu Li, Visual Chongqing)

What began in early 2024 as a spontaneous collective of 12 amateur musicians has now grown into “Yeah Songs” music gathering— a community of more than 100,000 members. From impromptu street performances to weekly gatherings under bridges, and now with the support of the culture and tourism authorities to perform at iconic city landmarks, the group has become a vivid example of Chongqing’s thriving grassroots music culture and its public cultural vitality.

Music Under the Bridge

Crowds poured into a bridge arch one evening in August despite an orange heat alert, the second-highest level of China's three-tier warning system for high temperatures. Once a natural riverbank, the space was transformed last year into a riverside night camp. Beneath the roaring traffic overhead, Yeah Songs’ makeshift stage stood ready: portable speakers, guitars, drums, and colored lights set against a giant banner proclaiming the group’s name.

Unlike traditional venues, the stage here has no fences or tickets. Professional or not, anyone can grab the microphone and perform — whether a delivery rider, radio host, or university teacher. This openness has turned the bridge arch into a hub of self-expression.

“The day after every performance, my social media is flooded with live videos,” said founder Chen Jie. “In 40-degree heat, outdoors, how many others can draw such a crowd?”

Residents sit on the ground to enjoy the music. (Photo/Liu Li, Visual Chongqing)

By mid-2024, hashtags like “Chongqing’s Own Yeah Songs” topped local Douyin trending lists. Nearby businesses also benefited, with one hotpot restaurant reporting a 30% surge in customers on performance nights.

What Makes It “Wild”

For Chen Jie, who works full-time in hotel management, Yeah Songs started as a side project to revive a long-held dream. “I wanted it to feel free and wild,” he said. “Not rigid, not restrained. A place where people could sing together and connect through music.”

Most of the core members are over 35 and hold day jobs. Singer “Pineapple” first joined when he stumbled upon a street performance while making deliveries. A university teacher dubbed “Chongqing Beyoncé” found in the group “a chance to release work and life pressures by singing and dancing with others.”

As the group expanded, its logo and merchandise took shape. The logo was designed by a drummer who is also a graphic designer. “At first it looked rough and crooked,” Chen laughed, “but that’s exactly what makes it wild.”

Yeah Songs charges no fees, and no one is paid. Members spend weekdays planning, rehearsing, and editing videos, while performances take place on weekend nights. “During graduation season, when hundreds of people folded paper planes with their wishes and songs written on them and tossed them toward the stage — that moment moved me to tears,” recalled Haifeng, a co-founder and radio host.

From Bridges to Landmarks

Since its debut in early 2024, Yeah Songs has staged more than 150 performances, often drawing crowds of over 1,000. The group has been covered by national media, including CCTV, and has gained recognition from Chongqing’s Culture and Tourism authorities.

The city has since opened doors to new venues, from Testbed 2 Arts Center to Hongyadong, from a subway station to a historic civil defense tunnel. Authorities have even provided free water, charging stations, and security.

A lively atmosphere at a Yeah Songs concert in Yuzhong District. (Photo/Zhang Chunxiao)

“The first year we set a goal of going from bridge arches to Jiefangbei — and we did it,” Chen said proudly. At the group’s anniversary event this February, he announced plans for original music productions and the first local indoor music festival featuring Chongqing bands.

“When I was in a university band, many talented musicians left because they felt the local scene had no soil to grow,” Chen reflected. “We want to turn this desert into an oasis.”

For Haifeng, the dream is bigger still: to bring back musicians who left Chongqing. “Many bands are working hard to revive this long-quiet scene,” he said, before softly singing a verse from his own 2017 song Jialing Riverside. “I want to call to all those who have drifted away — come back, and see what we’ve built.”

(Xie Xinyi, as an intern, also contributed to this article.)