After a hiatus of nearly three years, the Taipei band Sticky Rice (糯米糰) made a welcome return to the local music scene late last year with the band's second album Bird King (青春鳥王).
Packed with different styles ranging from electronica and funk to break beats, it was a far cry from the band's 1997 eponymous debut Sticky Rice (糯米糰), on which the band blasted its way through a collection of tunes packed with guitar-driven rough-and-ready musical mayhem.
Formed in the mid-1990s, Sticky Rice hit the local music scene at a time when the nation's now maturing indie scene was in its infancy. Led by lanky vocalist, Ma Nien-hsien (馬念先), who sported a mohawk hair-do and wore distinctive retro glasses, the band proved an instant hit, selling out many of the city's alternative music venues.
PHOTO: COURTESY OF MAGIC STONE
As the band built up a following among the indie crowd, Ma and his three bandmates -- Chen Chi-han (沉其翰) on guitar, Hung Chih-li (洪峙立) on drums and Yu Guang-yao (余光耀) on bass -- caught the attention of the movie industry. Director Chen Yu-hsun was so taken by the material on the album, that he invited them into the studio to record the soundtrack for his 1997 film Love A GoGo (愛情來了). The soundtrack was later nominated for Best Musical Score at the 1997 Golden Horse Awards.
Just as the band looked set to become one of only a handful of local acts to rise from garage band status to pop stars their country called. The lads were shipped to boot camp to begin their military service, where they remained until early last year.
The band may have been dormant while Ma, Chen, Hong and Yu were doing push-ups for the nation, but the local music industry didn't forget Sticky Rice. Shortly after being demobilized the band was back in the studio and recording a demo tape. Magic Stone signed them soon after.
PHOTO: COURTESY OF MAGIC STONE
"We sent demos to three labels and heard back from three of them pretty quickly, which was a real surprise," Ma said recently. "We were looking for a certain amount of freedom in the studio to record the music we wanted, rather than what the record label told us to."
Far from numbing the senses, military discipline appears to have paid dividends, as last year's Bird King attests. The album shows a tighter and musically more mature Sticky Rice. Thankfully, the military didn't take away the band's dead-pan sense of humor. The electronica/funk song Aluba Aliba, for example, tells of a game in which young boys compete to see who can run, jump and then slide across the ground and come to a halt closest to the trunk of a tree without damaging their manhood.
Any gig Sticky Rice headlines or even makes the briefest of appearances at is guaranteed to be a rowdy affair. The band doesn't offer stand-up comedy routines full of biting social commentary like their peers, Clippers (夾子電動大樂隊), but they have their own style of onstage nonsense. When the band kicks into a funk tune in the style of Sly and the Family Stone, the chances are the tune won't stay that way for long. The band will suddenly up the tempo and before audiences know what's happening an onslaught of electronica twists and guitars turns the tune into a thumping dance song that whips crowds into a frenzy.
PHOTO: COURTESY OF MAGIC STONE
While Sticky Rice cut its teeth on the fringe of the local alternative scene, the band remains adamant that they are not, and never have been, an "alternative" band. They are pop stars, they say, albeit rather eccentric ones.
"We started out playing venues such as Roxy Vibe and Underworld, and have played at several Spring Screams, but I wouldn't call us alternative. We never touched politics like LTK (濁水溪) or Clippers and we steered away from guitar rock like Quarterback (四分衛)," said Hong, the band's drummer. "If people have to label us, then I think that an off-the-wall pop band would be a much better tag."
Performance Notes:
PHOTO: COURTESY OF MAGIC STONE
What: Sticky rice Live (糯米糰)
When: Tomorrow 7pm.
Where: @Live Disco, 3F, 15 Hoping W. Rd., Sec. 1 (和平西路一段15號3F).
Tickets: NT$400 at the door.
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
“Taiwan’s Opposition Leader Comes to US With a Message Straight Out of Beijing” read a May 31 headline in the Wall Street Journal. Top US administration officials and members of Congress almost certainly read the WSJ, and if there was a bullet point takeaway that people in Washington should absorb ahead of Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chair Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) arrival in DC on June 9, that headline is it. The last few columns have discussed this very topic, and the timing is not coincidental. While those top officials likely do not read the Taipei Times, judging by the number
With weighty, anxiety-inducing geopolitical topics dominating the headlines, checking in on the wild and weird state of local politics can take some of the edge off. This November’s elections will determine who will be in charge of fixing potholes in your neighborhood, not the potholes in Taiwan’s complicated geopolitical space. Recently, after an online interview with a Taipei-based journalist, I commented that Taipei journalists never go further than the MRT can take them. He laughed and agreed. Naturally, the Taipei mayoral race is eating up much of the press attention. TAIPEI CITY Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) candidate Puma Shen (沈伯洋) has
As someone who normally steers clear of books with “transcendence” or “metaphysics” in their subtitles, this reviewer — a casual observer of local belief systems since the 1990s — found Fabian Graham’s Money God Temples in Taiwan a challenging read. Those who’ve only dipped their toes into temple culture will likely need to parse several sections with special care if they’re to keep up with the author, a British ethnographic researcher whose previous books have investigated religious practices among ethnic Chinese in Southeast Asia. This scholarly volume examines a facet of Taiwan’s religious landscape that didn’t exist a century ago, and