When pop singer Lo Ta-yu (羅大佑) burned his US passport in 2004 to draw attention to what he felt was US interference in Taiwan’s affairs, he caused a storm of controversy. For Lo, however, it was just another protest for a good cause.
In an interview with the 57-year-old Lo last month, conducted after he delivered a lecture and performance hosted by the Lung Ying-tai Cultural Foundation (龍應台文化基金會), I asked if he regretted giving up his US citizenship — a question that elicited a grimace (one of many throughout our 60-minute interview) from his handler.
“Not at all. I believe it was the right thing to do. It was wrong for the US to request Taiwan to send troops to [Iraq],” he said.
Photo: Noah Buchan, Taipei Times
It didn’t matter in the end that the US hadn’t made the request — nor had Taiwan’s government offered to send troops — but Lo viewed his action as an important symbolic gesture.
“Taiwan has been protecting Uncle Sam’s benefits for such a long time against mainland China,” he said.
It is the kind of unapologetic response that has earned Lo considerable plaudits as a protest singer.
Dubbed the “Godfather of Chinese pop music” (華語流行樂教父), Lo’s name, along with Teresa Teng’s (鄧麗君), is synonymous with the rise of Taiwanese Mando-pop. In addition to 15 solo albums, Lo has written or performed the music for movies as well as writing lyrics for Canto-pop and Mando-pop singers under his Hong Kong-based production company Music Factory (音樂工廠). Jay Chou (周杰倫) has called Lo his idol — a testament to the influence he still exerts on Taiwan’s music scene.
Born into a family of doctors, Lo learned to play music at an early age. By the time he reached university, where he studied medicine, he was already an accomplished singer-songwriter, releasing his first solo album, the folksy Literary Jargon (之乎者也), in 1982.
It was an immediate hit and earned Lo a reputation as a lyricist of considerable power. The track Little Town of Lukang (鹿港小鎮) became an instant classic. Its nostalgic musings on the simplicity of village life struck a chord with many Taiwanese who were disillusioned with modern city life — a theme he took up with the satirical Love Song 1980 (戀曲1980).
But the album’s title track caught the attention of more than just fans. The Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) government immediately banned it from the radio because of its indirect criticism of authoritarian rule — the first of many occasions when authorities would censor Lo’s work.
But Lo is known for much more than cynicism. Tomorrow Will Be Better (明天會更好), his answer to We Are the World, is perhaps his most optimistic song. The KMT’s use of Tomorrow in an election campaign was part of the reason why the singer left Taiwan for New York at the height of his popularity.
Lo’s music has been variously described as blues, folk, lounge, rock, reggae and techno. At the root of his lyrics and music, however, is social commentary, which perhaps explains why each of Lo’s albums has been successful. His finger is firmly on Taiwan’s pulse.
The year he burned his passport was also the year he put out his last album, the controversial Beautiful Island (美麗島). Two of the album’s songs were banned in China and two others raised eyebrows at home because of his direct criticism of former president Lee Teng-hui (李登輝) in A-Hui Raised a Dog (阿輝飼了一隻狗) and former president Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁) in Green Terrorists (綠色恐怖份子), leading to accusations that he had abandoned his anti-authoritarian roots.
He made a comeback tour last year as a member of Superband (縱貫線) along with Emil Chou (周華健), Jonathan Lee (李宗盛) and Chang Chen-yue (張震嶽). The group performed 58 shows in Asia and North America to an estimated 1.7 million people. Clearly, Lo still has what it takes to draw crowds.
Taipei Times: Why haven’t you put out an album since Beautiful Island?
Lo Ta-yu: As I grow older the period between album releases will be longer because I find that I need to devote more time to composing music. My plan for [the next decade] is to throw myself into composing music for musicals and film, as well as performing, though I’ll probably sing less and less.
TT: Will your next album be a solo album?
LT: Yes. But it will bring together artists different than before. It will be more of an ethnic thing.
TT: How did your parents feel in the 1980s when you decided to give up medicine to become a musician?
LT: I come from a family of doctors, so of course they were against it. At that time, you couldn’t really earn money as an artist. Their concern gradually changed — but it was a process that took about 10 years.
TT: Was there a particular instance or series of events that made them accept your career as a musician?
LT: It was after I moved to Hong Kong in April of 1987. I wrote them a 10-page letter and said that I wanted to pursue music — that I wasn’t interested in doing anything else. And I told them that I could be financially independent.
In the letter, I thanked them for supporting me to become a doctor — an undertaking that made me understand more about life and what it means to be human. I also told them that there are many ways to show concern for social issues. After all, making music can be another way of addressing my concerns for society. After that letter, my parents accepted my decision to continue pursuing music.
TT: Were your parents concerned during the early 1980s when you were writing lyrics critical of the government?
LT: My father didn’t want me to write these kinds of songs. He told me that I’d better be careful about writing stuff about politics. He always brought it up but never told me not to write that type of songs.
TT: You became wildly popular in the early 1980s — a popularity that you’ve sustained. Do you think that your early success was due in part to the government’s censorship of your work?
LT: I wasn’t really conscious of the whole social tension and the control by the government. I only had a vague impression of what was happening at the time because I didn’t get much information from outside. I was protected by my medical family and then I was in medical school and I was doing my music. I was already busy doing my own thing, trying to pass my examinations while making my music.
TT: And yet many of your songs were critical of society at the time. Was that a conscious decision?
LT: Very much so. I mean, the first song I wrote was banned. But if you don’t pass [the censors], you don’t pass. So many of my songs were banned back in 1982 and 1983 — even Singapore banned my songs. Not to mention later on in mainland China.
But eventually I took the whole banning thing, or censorship, as part of the job, part of the packaging.
You take it or leave it. What it does, though, is clarify
your writing.
TT: Why did you move to New York in 1985 at the height of your popularity? Did it have to do with the KMT using your song Tomorrow Will Be Better in an election campaign?
LT: I think mostly because my sister was living there and she wanted to draw me out of Taiwan because she saw that I was exhausted. But, yeah, Tomorrow Will Be Better — I felt that I was being manipulated. Actually, looking back, I’m still not sure if it was I who was being manipulated or if I was manipulating others. In any event, when I looked at myself, I felt ridiculous.
TT: How did living in New York influence your career?
LT: I completely got lost. I just reset myself to zero. I was living in the East Village together with some Australians who were filmmakers, graphic artists, visual artists.
TT: Did they know that you were a famous musician in Taiwan?
LT: Of course. And they called me Dr Lo [laughs]. For me, New York at that time had a special kind of atmosphere. You know, get drunk and people lying in the street and people getting mugged — it wasn’t as developed as it is today.
So it was like, wow, you see this kind of scene, it was like a jungle. And I wanted to throw myself into that jungle and see what was going to happen. Going out there in the world to engage in another adventure.
TT: You’ve also said that this period offered you a new perspective on what it means to be ethnically Chinese. Had you thought about that before leaving Taiwan?
LT: I never really thought about this issue until I stepped into that melting pot. [New York] is one place in the world where you can get lost because everyone looks so strong and tough and everybody walking around the street can protect themselves. And eventually, you think, yeah, being an Asian or Chinese-Taiwanese I have to become really clear about what I am doing and what kind of artist I am.
TT: Your songs over the past few years have taken on more of an overtly political edge, whereas your earlier songs were less direct. For example, A-Hui Raised a Dog from Beautiful Island is critical of Lee Teng-hui. Why?
LT: I felt the political situation was out of balance. The underlying problem was that Lee Teng-hui sold out too many people around him. I think he betrayed [former KMT chairman] Lien Chan (連戰).
[Lee Teng-hui was president and KMT chairman from 1988 to 2000. He became the first popularly elected president of Taiwan in 1996. Lien Chan was an early ally of Lee and served as his vice president and later ran for president in the 2000 elections, which he lost to Chen Shui-bian.]
I mean, supposedly the KMT ought to be against the Democratic Progressive Party, but Lee sold out his successor Lien and he also made Chen his de facto successor.
TT: What result did that have?
LT: Taiwan has undergone significant changes since the 2000 election. I see it as a cultural phenomenon. Since then, elections in Taiwan have become a kind of culture, a kind of lifestyle. It is similar to religious rituals. Just as people give money to the board of directors of famous temples ... candidates donate money to influential people in their neighborhoods, the electorate or local interest groups. In this sense elections are more like a culture, a religious culture.
TT: In 2004 you played a concert for presidential candidate Lien and James Soong (宋楚瑜) and then in 2008 you played a concert in the US following President Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) electoral victory. You also wrote Green Terrorists, which rails against the events surrounding the shooting of Chen on the eve of the 2004 elections. Looking over your career, it would seem that you now support a party that earlier banned your work. Isn’t that contradictory?
LT: Oh, this is simple. After Lee Teng-hui’s betrayal, [the KMT] became weak.
TT: Do you think the KMT has adequately faced up to its authoritarian past?
LT: I think so. When you become weak, you have to reflect on your past policies. And I believe that since Ma has taken charge of the KMT, he has steered [the KMT] in the direction of resolving its past, both in terms of culture and politics.
President Ma has adopted a very cautious policy toward these issues. This was correct because Taiwan is in a very sensitive position on the international stage. In the future, he’ll have to be nimble — especially because Taiwan is such a fragile country. Taiwan needs to play wise, not strong.
I think the people of Taiwan have been suffering through this left-right, blue-green divide. I think Taiwanese are being smart right now. We have to be on our own. We have to say right now that people like Lung Ying-tai (龍應台) are doing whatever they can to establish a civic culture. If we really want to do something, we have to stand on our own feet, not depend on our government. The real solution is how to strengthen the personality of the Taiwanese.
TT: What roles should artists play in Taiwan’s society?
LT: This is an interesting question. In order to be creative or be innovative, artists have to be representatives of the people. That’s why most artists are against war, for peace and are very optimistic. They believe that tomorrow will be better. Artists cannot create unless they are optimistic.
[Musicians] are not politicians. We are in the cultural sphere. But what we’ve realized is that our jobs have meaning. And we haven’t deteriorated at all, we are still going strong.
Before we were against the government, but even still, we turned out all right. I mean, yesterday is better than the day before and today will be better than yesterday.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
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