无间道三

'I felt like I just started my career again': British Elvis revivalist finds his voice in China_我的网站

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    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.
。    内存价格暴涨，很多想要加内存的玩家都在纠结，我们都知道双通道内存可以让游戏体验提升，那么这个提升有多少，到底值得不值得升级，下面我们就通过实测来证实一下。    先简单介绍一下，内存是直接和CPU进行通信的，所以内存的速度越快，CPU就能更快地获取到所需的信息。双通道内存指的是将不同的内存布置在两个通道中，CPU可以同时读写两组内存条，理论上内存带宽直接翻倍。

二 |     不过呢，CPU要和内存交换的数据并不是平均分配在两个通道的内存上的，所以内存带宽的翻倍并不能使相应的速度翻倍。

三 | 可以看到，在DDR5 6000MHz平台下，16GB单通道内存的读取带宽为46.6GB/s，而双通道的带宽则提升到了59.5GB/s，带宽提升了接近28%。          游戏玩家更关注的问题是，CPU真的需要这么大的内存带宽来运行游戏吗？这取决于游戏引擎对CPU与GPU之间数据交换的频繁程度。帧数越高，每秒需要从内存读取的材质、模型和场景数据就越多，内存带宽的瓶颈也就越明显。    我们使用AMD R7 9850X3D搭配RTX 5070平台进行实测，测试游戏包括《赛博朋克2077》，《CS2》，《古墓丽影：暗影》以及《极限竞速：地平线5》。

四 | 所有游戏均为2560 x 1440分辨率，预设高画质，支持光线追踪的游戏开启光线追踪，支持DLSS的游戏开启DLSS并使用质量模式。         从测试结果来看，双通道内存带来的帧数提升远没有理论性能那么大，提升幅度都在2%-3%左右，对于200帧的游戏帧数来说好像并没有那么明显。    不过平均帧率只能反映游戏的整体感受，而内存带宽提升带来的另一优势是最低帧的提升。所以下面我们再看看1% Low帧的对比。         在这四款游戏中，双通道对1% Low的提升幅度远大于对平均帧率的提升，提升幅度直接来到了10%以上，对于《CS2》这类FPS游戏有明显的提升，而且low帧的提升对于游戏体验来说也大有裨益。    双通道内存让CPU和内存的数据交换更加及时，CPU不需要等上一批数据传完就能开始下一批，帧间隔因此更均匀，也就使得游戏的low帧更高，给我们的感受就是卡顿感更少了。

五 |     所以结论也就很明显了，如果你玩的是注重反应速度的FPS游戏，或是为了提升竞技的技术，那么双通道内存就是必备。而对于普通的游戏玩家来说，双通道内存对帧数的提升并不明显，没有必要单纯为了双通道而加内存。    另外，对于使用核显的用户来说，双通道的意义更大，因为核显没有独立显存，直接共享系统内存，内存带宽就是显存带宽，双通道几乎是必选项而非可选项了。         最后要提醒大家的是，在组建双通道内存时，插槽位置要对，有4条插槽的主板，双通道内存要隔一个内存插槽安装，虽然不同频率不同容量的内存也能组成双通道，我们还是建议频率和时序尽量一致。两根内存频率不同时，系统会以较低频率运行，影响应有的性能发挥。    

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Published on:17:01:06