Swinging to original big band sounds

While Mando-pop stars come and go -- and lets face it, the further some go the better -- Taiwan's long-serving big band, Kupa (鼓霸大樂團), is still kicking up a brass-fuelled racket almost 50 years since it was formed.

First performing in front of the multitude of UN troops stationed on, or enjoying some well earned R&R in Taiwan during the height of the Korean War, Kupa fast became not only the favorites of foreign military personnel but also the musical darlings of the nation.

Although the music the band played was as far removed from the sickly-sweet pap produced by Taiwan's contemporary pop icons as is possible, the members of Kupa -- or the Cuban Boys as the band was then known -- are considered by many as Taiwan's very first homegrown pop stars.

Radio stations not only played every tune the band recorded but also aired live shows. 1950s Taiwan was Cuban Boy mad. Women swooned and men wanted to be them. Even the late Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek (蔣介石) was a fan. Chiang could occasionally be spotted in the audience whenever the band played at the ballrooms of the Ambassador and Haohua hotels in Taipei -- two of the city's most prestigious venues of the day.

While the late president enjoyed nothing better than kicking back to classic big band tunes and never used his presidential power to ask for requests, he did put his foot down following Fidel Castro's socialist victory over the US-backed Cuban government of Fulgencio Batista.

"It wasn't long after Castro took power that Chiang asked that the band be renamed," explained Kupa sax player, Ben Chiu (邱志炅). "He wasn't a fan of Castro and nor was he a lover of communist regimes so the word Cuba had to go."

Although insisting on a name change, the fact that the band opted for a name that bore a phonetically close resemblance to the word Cuba doesn't appear to have bothered Chiang and he remained a firm fan.

Time, alas, hasn't been kind to Kupa. By the 1980s what was once the nation's leading musical inspiration found itself relegated to playing supermarket openings, weddings and the odd funeral or two.

"Along with the ever changing musical fashions, I think it simply got too expensive to book the band," Chiu said. "When you have to pay 20 members instead one singer it's understandable why venues began to stop booking Kupa."

Thankfully, however, even though pap-pop acts such as F4 now command the top spots on radio station play-lists Kupa has refused to die. Playing at election rallies is, however, as presidential as it gets these days.

And, according to Chiu, Kupa will probably never perform in front of the current president. Unlike Chiang, President Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) doesn't appear to posses an ear for Latin, samba, jazz or the big band sound.

"When we played at an election rally for Chen we were asked to perform a set of jazzed-up traditional Taiwanese numbers," recalled Chiu with a slight grimace.

Presidents excluded, Kupa will be reliving the halcyon days before the mini-shirt, the Beatles and punk rock next Tuesday for a one-off gig at Taipei's recently revamped and reopened venue, the Red House Theater (紅樓劇場).

A gig that is set to see Kupa rekindling its flame and setting light to age-old venue with a heap of big band sounds, a heavy dose of swing, a mix of Latin, Ellington inspired jazz and of course some Glenn Miller classics.