I think of Ling Wei (凌威) as the surrogate mother of music in Taipei, but most people refer to him as the “Godfather.”
One of the first DJs to play Western pop music over the radio in the 1970s; he opened the capital’s first pub in the 1980s; and over the following three decades gave space to many of the country’s best bands and DJs – as well as providing well-storied drinking holes for both locals and expats, such as the various Roxy bars, AC/DC, B-Side, Spin, Jr Cafe and Vibe.
It’s been a difficult sell, because Taiwan has a streak of moral rectitude running down its spine that not even Singapore can compare with. Basically put, gambling, wine, women and song are not Taiwan’s bag. Hence, the well publicized attempts to shut down clubs or legislate them away. Even now it’s not easy to get a license to sell alcohol, after which you have to compete with a lot of people who are doing so illegally.
Photo: Jules Quartly
Then, there are residents complaining if the decibel level rises above a certain level or goes past a set time, the police putting their noses in or holding their hands out, gangsters demanding protection money. And so on.
“A lot of Taiwan people think bars are dangerous, full of illegal things like drugs and girls and stuff like that. Well, it is true, there are a lot of assholes,” Ling says.
“But in Bangkok and Hong Kong, there’s a lot of great nightlife and it’s a real good time. Police patrol the entertainment areas every 10 minutes. They don’t bother the customers, it’s just safe and happy. What’s wrong with that?”
Talking to Ling, you get the idea this is someone who has seen it all. Not exactly world weary, but close. But, for someone who has lived a nine-to-five lifestyle (pm to am), he looks fairly youthful at 62.
REBEL WITH A CAUSE
Ling admits to being a rebel as a kid. “I didn’t even learn my ‘A-B-C’ until 14 or 15. I was a bad boy, that’s the truth. I never studied, I was more attracted to girls and it helped that I got into music. I was a good dancer, oh, the chicken dance, mushroom dance … I was very free, girls and music were my life.”
It was at 13 or 14 that he started getting into Western pop music, from Elvis to The Beatles. It was also when he started hoarding vinyl, a collection that now spans 14,000 records, 10,000 CDs and five terabytes of music on his hard drive.
Ling says, in those days there were even less copyright laws than now. Flight attendants used to bring back records from abroad and these would be copied and pressed by small-time publishing houses, usually as compilations, then sold in Ximending’s record stores. Which is how music junkies used to get their fix in Taipei.
As for Ling, the adopted son of a KMT soldier/official from China’s Guangdong Province (birth parents from Taoyuan), disaffected youth led directly to joining the army, for six years. “The gun was bigger than me. It was a bad time. I lost my freedom … and there were no girls.”
Then came his Road to Damascus moment. “I was on guard duty at night and I thought to myself, `You just eat, sleep and shit and you know nothing.’” He returned to his studies and eventually passed the exam to attend Shih Hsin University, which is known for its journalism and communications courses.
RADIO WAVES
A career in independent radio beckoned, starting at Min Fang (民防), which later became Taipei Broadcasting Station, plus stints at Fuxing Radio Station and perhaps most famously at Zhongguang Radio Station, where he was a kind of John Peel figure, introducing the latest sounds.
ICRT DJs started to pay attention and he recalls DJ Rick O’Shea calling out of the blue and wanting to meet up. “It was the first time I had spoken English with a foreigner.”
But change was in the air. “It was quite boring in the studio, listeners asking where to get records, introducing music, playing the music and then it’s gone. I wanted to get my own place, where I could DJ and meet my listeners to share music.”
He wrote to coffee shops in Ximending, suggesting he could play for free, but no one bit. So, he opened what was essentially a juice bar near National Taiwan University with 10 seats and a DJ booth, called AC/DC. (Yes, after the band.)
TAIPEI’S FIRST PUB
The following year he had a place four times as big on the third floor and called it a “rock house.” One day a foreign student walked in and asked for alcohol. Ling said come back tomorrow, and he’d have a crate of beer ready. Which is how the first pub in Taipei began (though Combat Zone vets may disagree).
Ling lists, with dates, the many pubs and bars he has had. A bit like old lovers. AC/DC is obviously a fond memory, as she was the first. He says of Roxy Music on Heping East Road (和平東路), “I named it `Roxy’ because it sounded like a good feeling. I didn’t know there were thousands of them all around the world at the time.” He also admits to liking the band.
Then there was Roxy II on Bade Road (八德路). He called it a rock house, but everyone else thought it was a disco because it had a dance floor.” B-Side gave birth to Mayday and many of the country’s Bade Road s biggest bands.
When the scene went electronic, DJs like Allen, Victor, Em, George Ho, Alex Liu, James Six and Fish got their first gigs at Ling’s pubs. He taught them their trade. “Not how to mix, I never mix, I’m a radio DJ, but how to build up the atmosphere, keep the music flowing. I am the first, that’s why they call me the godfather.”
There was Roxy 99, Roxy Roots for reggae, The Stage for jazz … “too many bars, 36 or 37, depending on how you count.”
He talks about paying for protection, reasoning that if the police did their job, he wouldn’t have to pay gangsters. He admits he made big money, and lost his shirt a few times. He’s pissed off right now about customers buying their drinks at 7-Eleven, which is why he’s introduced “coin-price beer” (NT$50) at Roxy 99.
Now, “everyone’s a DJ, it’s so easy there’s no respect any more,” he says, then adds the economy is in a state and he feels “really tired.” It’s like his mojo has gone, or age has caught up. But I suspect that’s not the case because a sentence or so later he’s outlining plans for yet another bar, or opening one in China instead.
Moreover, after a hiatus of more than a decade, he’s thinking of DJing again. “I’m a great DJ. I’m coming back. I’m gonna play the real good shit.”
1 0H 1: Can refer to Taipei 101; an introductory course or analysis; One uh One, a spare male at a party, or a useless person — always male; there are about 1.01 men for every 1 woman, thus, every one hundred and first male is not going to find a partner; a one-on-one interview
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