These days, Chiang Kai-shek (
But his favorite band plays on.
Kupa (
PHOTO: SEAN CHAO, TAIPEI TIMES
The 66-year-old Hsieh, a gentleman dandy who punctuates his conversation with swing beats and hummed bars from Take the A Train, is the nephew of Kupa's original founder, Hsieh Teng-hui (謝騰輝). It was over 30 years ago that the younger Hsieh joined his uncle's band as an alto saxophone player, and he recalls the numerous occasions that the band was summoned to play for Chiang at his villa on Yangmingshan.
"Chiang would always ask for Kupa," said Hsieh. "Anytime there were foreign VIPs, he'd ask for us."
PHOTO COURTESY OF KUPA
So Kupa became regulars in the Generalissimo's grand ballroom, playing, as Hsieh put it, "for the KMT and the ambassadors of the world" in a heavily guarded pocket of opulence in a nation under martial law. It was all very Casablanca, an aura that Kupa still exudes in both their lore and the untempered authenticity of their big band swing.
At Chiang's villa, "we never knew who we were playing for. There were always lots of foreigners, and we could tell they were big shots, but it was very secret and we never knew who anyone was. We would go up to the villa and we wouldn't be allowed into the ballroom until right before we played. Then right before we went on stage they would search us. They'd even search inside the horns. After we played, we'd leave immediately," said Hsieh.
It conjures up visions of a waltzing Generalissimo, but did Chiang Kai-shek ever dance?
Hsieh sidestepped that question and continued with his story.
"Chiang would never specify a fee before we played. He'd just invite us. But when we were finished playing he'd come up and slip us a red envelope (
But back to the dancing. How did the Generalissimo dance? Was he shorter than Madame Chiang?
"No, no, no. There was no dancing. Everyone was just dining. They were all sitting down."
When Hsieh Sheng-yen founded Kupa in 1953, the band went by a different name. They called themselves the Cuban Boys. At that point, the elder Hsieh had been living outside Taiwan honing his musical skills for 11 years and he wanted to give the group an international feel.
But when Fidel Castro took power in Cuba in 1959, Chiang personally asked the band to change its name.
"Chiang told us that Cuba's a communist country and that being named after a communist country just wouldn't do," said the younger Hsieh.
"It was as simple as that," he continued. "If he told you to change your name, you changed it. It's not like now. Now you could be called, I don't know, the Mainland Big Band or something like that and no one would care. But back then, if Chiang said something, you'd better do it."
So the band changed from Cuba (
In addition to playing for Chiang Kai-shek, the group became famous in Taiwan, producing records and playing for upscale crowds of GIs on leave first in the Korean War, then in the Vietnam War.
In 1962 Kupa became the house band at Taipei's swanky Ambassador Hotel, a gig that lasted 27 years. They continued to play for presidents. Hsieh says they've played for Chiang Ching-kuo (
"He was the one who always wanted to hear us play. We were his favorite," said Hsieh.
Chiang died in 1975 and as the big band era faded in Taiwan, the band's stature shifted into the kitschy world of television variety shows and public ceremonies. They found themselves sitting in for numbers on all three of Taiwan's terrestrial TV stations and gigging at the odd wedding or social engagement. In 1992, Hsieh Teng-hui was awarded a lifetime achievement award at the Golden Melody Awards for contributions to pop music.
Then, as Kupa continued to play on in lesser venues ? and they kept playing mostly because playing music was just what they did ? the pendulum swung back and Taiwan got more serious about appreciating its history.
In the Taipei city government, this meant cultural projects and urban renewal. Both were combined in the renovation of Taipei's Red House, an octagonal brick market built in 1908 that enjoyed subsequent lives as a theater and porn cinema before finally succumbing to neglect. In July 2002, Taipei City reopened the Red House as a cultural space, and a few months later Hsieh got a call from the city's culture bureau.
"The Red House is supposed to combine old and new, so they found us," he said.
The first Kupa performance at the Red House was last October and was supposed to be a one-off. But an overwhelming reception has now made the band a monthly fixture.
Hsieh says he's found new fans that he didn't know were there.
"There are a lot of older people who know us from before, but there are also young people, and they'll say, `Kupa is just too cool' ? they talk like that nowadays."
So tomorrow night, Kupa will return with its 1950s Benny Goodman swing and big band classics, which will be about half the set. The other half will be a new genre that Kupa is creating to meet a surging demand for swing versions of old Taiwanese and mandarin melodies.
"It's something new for us too," he said. "But people like it."
Kupa plays tomorrow night at 8pm at the Red House Theater (
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