Exile and the artist. It can be a complicated relationship. Oftentimes a banishment of some kind in terms of physical location or emotion, self-imposed or otherwise, is vital to a musician’s work. But it’s a fine line. The longing and loneliness — the silence, such as it is — that can contribute to one’s most profound work can be the same weighty emotions that lead to the seemingly inevitable downfall that awaits the creative type. So, when an artist does decide to leave all he or she knows behind and strike out for uncharted waters, what is there to keep them on even keel?
For folk duo Joyce and Christian Bolland, the solution has been to take the journey into that creative heart of darkness together. Hailing from New Zealand, Joyce by way of Malaysia, the couple met at a campfire jam on a beach and, according to Christian’s recollection, it became instantly apparent that they would be singing and jamming together a lot. Turning that into an actual band would come later. By that point in his life, Christian was already intimately familiar with the themes of loss, confusion and fragility that drive his songwriting.
“When I was younger I was pretty lost, as most of us are in our late teens,” he says. “I ended up living and working in a Christian cult for about five years. When that spewed me out, I was very broken and confused. Everything I believed had slipped away from me, and I had pretty much given up my brain to someone else for so long that I had lost who I was. Writing about it helped me find my way back, and I think there is still an element of that confusion and searching in the songs we write.”
Photo Courtesy of The Bollands
Christian’s upbringing was not what you might call traditional. In a way, the road is all he’s ever known. So it’s not surprising that he and Joyce upped stakes and took off for Taiwan a few years ago. His parents instilled the wanderlust in him from the time he was in diapers.
“Mom and dad were into alternative ways of living, so dad built a house truck when I was a baby,” he recalls of his childhood. “We grew up living on different beaches and communities around the North Island of New Zealand with poets, artists and outcasts. It has influenced the way I lean towards organic grassroots music.”
Following a stint living in Taiwan a few years back, the Bollands went back to New Zealand for a while, only to leave home again, this time bound for Hong Kong, their home base to this day. Using the smoggy concrete enclave as an easy jump-off point to the rest of Asia, the Bollands now spend a good portion of their time on the road or in the air, traveling to shows around the continent and beyond. The ex-pat lifestyle is one rife with the common pitfall of emotional impermanence. Friends and loved ones here today might not be there tomorrow. Even the good times can have a tinge of sadness to them. You never know who might be filling those seats at the table at the next get-together, or if there will be anyone to fill them at all. The Bollands songs are a mix of foot-stomping sing-along numbers and more heart-wrenching tunes. Even in the former, however, there is that inescapable element of fatalism in play.
“Even in the more upbeat songs, there is often an ‘Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die’ element,” Christian admits.
Currently, The Bollands are on tour in Taiwan, gearing up for the release of their second album, Paper Houses, due out next month. Expect the same mix of songs about love, loss and the drink as can be found on their eponymous debut, but with a much bigger sound this time around. One benefit of being constantly on the move is that it exposes you to a wide variety of people with a similar mentality — people driven to create today in absence of a concrete sense of tomorrow. The result is a kind of electricity and chemistry that you can’t get at home. It has to be found elsewhere.
“This record is much more collaborative and much bigger in terms of energy and instruments. We have met some really lovely people, and amazing musicians, since we moved to Hong Kong,” Christian says.
“We wanted the new album to reflect this. We have about 12 friends playing in this one. I do think this album has more anger than the previous one. We recorded a lot of it live and got lost in some of the songs.”
Getting lost isn’t always a bad thing. It has a way of taking you places you never thought you would go.
■ The Bollands play tomorrow night at Sappho Live, B1, 1, Lane 102, Anhe Rd Sec 1, Taipei City (台北市安和路一段102巷一號B1). Support comes from Tricolor Leaf. Tickets are NT$350 at the door including one drink, and the show gets underway at 9:30pm.
Saturday night will also see the opening party for the annual Urban Nomad Film Fest (城市遊牧). The event will celebrate the festival’s return to the Ximenting area after a five-year absence with a retro-themed party at a 1960s-style nightclub, featuring singers from the neighborhood’s heyday. Later in the evening, old-school will give way to new, and bands such as Funky Brothers (放客兄弟), Clippers (夾子電動樂隊) and Kid Millionaire will take to the stage, with DJ sets to follow.
■ Red Envelope Nights, the 2014 Urban Nomad Film Fest Opening Party (2014遊牧影展開幕趴:回歸紅包場,) takes place tomorrow night, Saturday May 10th, at Fenghuang Night Club (鳳凰大歌廳), 5F, 159, Xining S Rd, Taipei City (台北市西寧南路159號5樓). Tickets are NT$900 at the door with one drink, and the party gets started at 8pm.
Taiwan’s English education system is being pulled apart by three opposing forces. Bilingual Nation 2030 pulls students toward English and global communication. Artificial Intelligence (AI) readiness pulls them toward digital judgment, verification and AI-mediated work. But Taiwan’s old exam culture pulls them back toward memorization, grammar drills, timed reading and correct answers. If the education system keeps using old exams to define success, it risks producing graduates who are neither genuinely bilingual nor genuinely AI-ready, but trained for tasks machines can already perform. The first force is Bilingual Nation 2030. Launched in 2018, the policy aimed to “help Taiwan’s workforce connect
It seems every few days one bumps into one of those “real man” comments in which Taiwan is urged to “face reality” or similar, and “make a deal,” with the speaker implying that soon it will be too late. “Deal” advocates always present themselves as having a superior grip on reality, and the manly ability to make the “hard choice.” Their testosterone-laden language often echoes that of Taiwan sellout advocates. Note that such commentary always specifies a process (“make a deal, work with, make progress”), never the end state of what occupation by a violent authoritarian colonialist state will entail. In
There are shadowy cabals plotting to sell out Taiwan to be annexed by China, by invasion if necessary. Fortunately, they are buffoons. In 2019, former Bamboo Union gangster and founder of the China Unification Promotion Party (CUPP), Chang An-le (張安樂, colorfully known as “White Wolf”), led a protest at the Legislative Yuan against comments made by then-premier Su Tseng-chang (蘇貞昌) that in the event of an attack by China, he would never surrender, but would protect the nation by fighting to the end, even if he only had a broom. Chang had party members bring a wooden casket that they
June 1 to June 7 "If all Taiwanese were as afraid of dying as you, then what would happen?” Physician Shih Chiang-nan (施江南) reportedly said this to his wife Chen Chiao-tung (陳焦桐) after she urged him to stop intervening on behalf of Taiwanese soldiers stranded overseas after serving in the Japanese Army during World War II. Shih had clashed with high-ranking officials over the issue, engaged in several heated arguments with Taiwan governor-general Chen Yi (陳儀) and allegedly shouted at general Ko Yuan-fen (柯遠芬), chief of staff of the Taiwan Garrison Command, over