On my flight from New York to Austin, Texas last on Wednesday last week, there were five hard-shell guitar cases at the plane entrance waiting to be gate checked. I sat next to Pau, a member of the Barcelona avant-garde funk band Za! on that flight, and three days earlier on a flight from Toronto to New York, I was sitting next to the manager of an Australian rock band called Wagons on the plane, and a Japanese R&B group named SOS while waiting to board. Debarking in Austin, a group of girls were spazzing out in the terminal — they’d just realized we’d shared the plane with indie-rock idols The Strokes.
It seemed like all of North America was abuzz with music on account of a now gigantic festival for indie music and film, SXSW, which is pronounced South by Southwest, or more frequently just “South By.” From March 11 to March 20 it featured 2,000 bands in over 90 venues, ranging from the row of bars on Austin’s 6th Street to ad hoc venues constructed in front yards and parking lots. It seems like everyone who is anyone in the music industry was there. Yoko Ono and Bob Geldof gave talks, and a bill initially topped by the Foo Fighters, Duran Duran and Wu Tang Clan was augmented late additions and unannounced events.
Jack White played on the street for free. Kanye West was an 11th hour addition. Snoop Dogg, P Diddy and Warren G came unannounced to pay a tribute to recently deceased rapper Nate Dogg on Saturday night, even as one of America’s hottest DJs, Diplo, played to a packed house at his own Mad Decent label showcase two doors away.
Photo: David Frazier
Within this overwhelming mix, Taiwan made its first major push into the booming world of indie music. North American tours by 10 Taiwanese bands, including a three-city tour arranged by Taipei’s The Wall (這牆) live house that I followed through Toronto, New York and Austin, culminated in a seven-band Taiwan Night on Friday last week, which included a private day party hosted by the Taipei Economic and Cultural Office in Houston and a public evening showcase.
Funding for Taiwan Night came as part of the government’s NT$2.1 billion five-year action plan called the Pop Music Flagship Project, which aims to support international touring and promotions for Taiwanese artists, and this includes a great deal of indie musicians outside of Taiwan’s well known pop music factories.
For both afternoon and evening sessions, the Taiwan showcase was packed. During daylight, it was the granny crowd, mostly middle-aged Taiwanese-American VIPs handing around pieces of a Republic of China 100th anniversary birthday cake, many of them from the Austin-Taichung Sister Cities Committee or else the Taiwan government’s Houston office. But in the evening, they gave way to a mix of Taiwanese-American students from the nearby University of Texas and a large number of Austin locals, who packed the 200-person-capacity second floor of Lambert’s, a barbecue restaurant and local landmark.
Photo: David Frazier
The bubblegum pop group Wonfu (旺福) was swamped by picture-snapping Taiwanese exchange students, who raved over their up-close encounter with this “famous” band. Bryan Simmons, an Austin local who said he’s been to every SXSW so far, described the showcase as “awesome,” saying, “every year you hope to find a show like this. I’m here because I’ve already seen so many of the regular bands, but this is my way of traveling the world without leaving town.”
The gig also precipitated two days of interviews for the various bands by mostly Web-based Asian or Asian-American media outlets. By the end of the night, John Y. C. Chi (齊永強), press director at the Taipei Economic and Cultural Office in Houston, was giving me fist bumps.
Though the evening showcase was basically consistent with the free-flowing SXSW vibe, the daytime event carried heavily official overtones. It was hard not to think about policy implications, whether outright or unintentional. One of the most interesting aspects of the new government push is that indie music is an international arena that China likely can’t do anything about it. China has prevented Taiwan from participating in the UN, the WHO and other big assemblies of “nations” for more than 30 years, claiming that Taiwan is Chinese territory and has no right to participate independently. In the Olympics and other sporting events, the Taiwanese team must arrive under the banner “Chinese Taipei.” The world’s top biennials of contemporary art have in recent years been pressured by the Chinese government to disallow the official participation of any “Taiwan Pavilion.”
Photo: David Frazier
But indie rock has no large central organization to apply pressure to, and many of music’s biggest names — from the Beastie Boys to Radiohead — are already labeled as anti-China for their past support of views that are pro-Tibet. Also interesting, let’s not forget that this is a policy of President Ma Ying-jeou’s (馬英九) generally Beijing-friendly Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) government.
Taiwan, however, is hardly the first government to actively support rock and roll musicians, and Government Information Office Minister Johnny Chiang (江啟臣) has stated that the larger goals — enhancing the national image and the future economic benefits of cultural industries — are indeed the main driving force. A SXSW panel on government support for music demonstrated that Norway, Scotland, England and Canada all offer millions of dollars to home-grown artists for touring and music production, and many more countries do the same.
The question for Taiwan then is how its money can best be spent.
Photo: David Frazier
This last week in the US, two very different answers to that question emerged. On one hand, The Wall mined Taiwanese and Taiwanese-American networks to lead a tour that included nine Taiwanese bands: Tizzy Bac, Wonfu (旺福), Orangegrass (澄草), Echo (回聲樂團), Sugar Plum Ferry (甜梅號), Fire EX (滅火器), The White Eyes (白目樂隊), Aphasia (阿飛西雅) and Unfamiliar Friends Party (不熟的朋友派對). Not every band played at every stage.
In New York, they stayed in a Brooklyn artists’ dormitory run by Taiwan native Patrick Huang (黃再添), a pro-independence activist who has lived in New York since the 1980s, when he was blacklisted by Taiwan’s martial law government. Chthonic (閃靈) lead singer Freddy Lim (林昶佐) keeps a stash of guitars there, for US touring.
Taiwanese exchange students were a big chunk of their draw, and middle-aged Taiwanese political and cultural groups always peppered the audience. Perhaps typical is Austin-Taichung Sister City Committee Chairman Steven Yau (姚東權), an Austin-based businessman who speaks English with a pronounced accent. “I usually prefer softer music,” he joked, “but sometimes heavy metal is OK.” (None of the Taiwanese bands were actually heavy metal bands.)
Photo: David Frazier
On the other hand, the electro-punk group Go Chic toured independently, with only the help of an agent, the Macao-based Panda Artist Management. The Wall used all Taiwanese staff to try to crack the North American market from the outside, and under-attended gigs in Toronto and New York were one result. But while Fire EX and the White Eyes played to a few dozen generally Asia-connected folks in New York on a Monday, Go Chic was able by and large to play to regular, North American indie rock crowds, packing out New York venues on a Friday and a Sunday night. After one of Go Chic’s three sets in Austin, a San Antonio girl asked me who they were, proclaiming herself a “new fan.”
Panda Management’s Victor Garnier said that the touring has generated a lot of offers. “All the places they played in Spain are saying, ‘Just let us know when they come back — we’ll book them.’ We’re also looking to do some festivals and bigger venues later this year,” he said.
But Go Chic wasn’t able to generate the same buzz as the fully funded SXSW-sanctioned showcase, Taiwan Night. Both strategies, it seems, have their place, though the end goal is of course to generate enough success that market forces can finally take over.
One final aspect of Taiwan’s new music policy is of course just being there. If Snoop Dogg and Bob Geldof are here, then Taiwanese music interests should be too. After all, SXSW is an industry trade show, and the benefits can come immediately, in the long-term or even in the most random moments.
After Taiwan Night, several of the Taiwanese contingent were celebrating with a bottle of tequila on their hotel patio at around 4am. One of them recognized Jaleel Bunton, of the avant-rock band TV on the Radio, sitting nearby. A conversation started up, and Bunton said his band would love to play in Taiwan. At this, Orbis Fu (傅鉛文), director of The Wall, piped in: “Yeah, we tried to book you already, but your band is too expensive.”
Bunton shot back a smile. “Next time, send me an e-mail. I’m sure we can work something out.”
It was one of those moments that money just couldn’t buy.
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