In the 1970s Kimbo, or Tuko Mackaruwane in his native Puyuma language, was known as Taiwan's Bob Dylan, blending Taiwanese Aboriginal sounds into his poetry and folk music.
Named Hu Defu (
Produced by Cheng Chieh-ren (
"It's hard not to be touched by Hu's natural yet powerful voice," said Lee Kun-yao (
Back then, Kimbo was Taiwan's highest paid folk singer, earning up to NT$25,000 a month -- at a time when the monthly salary of a Cabinet minister was NT$7,000 per month.
"Maybe my songs were too heavy for the market or to package for commercial record companies. They were written not for publishing purposes in the first place," Kimbo said in a cafe in Taipei, a cigarette constantly in one hand.
PHOTOS COURTESY OF IGNITE FIRE
Kimbo said he is not a prolific songwriter. He writes about one song a year, each one written, he said, after the pain in his body, heart and soul had reached a cresting point.
"If a song cannot move me to an unbearable degree, I would not publish the song," he said.
The blues he feels is from his 30-year involvement in Taiwan's political, social and Aboriginal movements. In all of these upheavals over the years, Kimbo's role hasn't been that merely of the protest singer, but rather he has been the frontman and organizer of many demonstrations.
In the 1980s Kimbo was a member of the tangwai (
Hu was among the first to talk about reclaiming land from Han Chinese-owned businesses and from the government, preserving Aboriginal names and raising the issue of Aboriginal girls being forced into prostitution.
Even in 1999, a decade after the peak of Taiwan's political and social movements, when the 921 earthquake devastated 90 percent of Aboriginal villages in central Taiwan, Kimbo emerged again, leading clashes with police over unfair treatment of Aboriginal villagers.
When Lien Chan (
All these actions and sentiments have been accumulated and encapsulated in his songs.
The Longest Road (
Darter, Clouded Leopard, The Basin Of Taipei (
Kimbo also wrote folk songs, such as The Boy On The Buffalo's Back (
Kimbo's singing talent took root in his high school years at Taipei's Tam-kang High School, a religious school set up by the missionary George Leslie Mackay. Students were trained to sing psalms and choral songs every morning and to play rugby every afternoon.
"I remember all the boys who loved to sing formed quartets and competed with each other every morning," Kimbo said.
He recalled a nun named Ms Taylor, who introduced Scottish folk songs and American Southern spirituals to the boys.
"I was naturally drawn to the rhythm of blues and spirituals and was gradually influenced by these vocal styles," Kimbo said.
"Little by little, I began to understand the content of spirituals and found lots of similarities with Taiwanese Aboriginal music. The repeating patterns of the blues are very similar to some music styles in Puyuma Paiwan music.
"The lyrics of Aboriginal folk music, like spirituals, tell about suffering. But I feel there is more praise to nature in Taiwanese Aboriginal music, instead of just telling about the pain," Kimbo said.
Romanticism and spontaneity seem to always drive Kimbo, making him a pioneer in many other businesses outside his folk music and social-movement activism.
He and friends opened Taiwan's first teppanyaki restaurant in Taipei in 1970. He was also once a partner in Taiwan's leading toy business. But these businesses were all flash-in-the-pan affairs, like many of the short-lived protest campaigns.
His free-spirited style demonstrates Kimbo's talent, but it is also sometimes a source of trouble for his producers. For instance, he never sings the same lyrics twice. Two years ago, it took him two hours to shoot a 20-second music video clip because he could not sing the same lyrics in front of the camera.
"I've sung that song tens of thousands of times. None of the times have I sung the same lyrics," he said.
Now Kimbo has decided to redirect his focus toward music, his one passion.
"I decided that this time I would lay down everything else and start to treat my music, especially Aboriginal music, with respect," Kimbo said.
As Time Flashes is meant to be a summing-up of his past musical career so that he can begin pursuing his new musical passions.
"I want to systematically explore the heritage of Aboriginal music, especially the abundant use in Aboriginal music of words like ho hai yan which don't actually have any meaning. I want to explore the beauty of these words and blend their usage into my own music,"
He will also work more closely with young Aboriginal musicians and music producers to help develop new talent.
"There are so many beautiful voices among the younger generation Aboriginal musicians. Unlike me. Only my heart still rocks," Kimbo said with a laugh.
Taiwan’s semiconductor industry consumes electricity at rates that would strain most national grids. Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co (TSMC) alone accounted for more than 9 percent, or 2,590 megawatts (MW), of the nation’s power demand last year. The factories that produce chips for the world’s phones and servers run around the clock. They cannot tolerate blackouts. Yet Taiwan imports 97 percent of its energy, with liquefied natural gas reserves measured in days. Underground, Taiwan has options. Studies from National Taiwan University estimate recoverable geothermal resources at more than 33,000 MW. Current installed capacity stands below 10 MW. OBSTACLES Despite Taiwan’s significant geothermal potential, the
In our discussions of tourism in Taiwan we often criticize the government’s addiction to promoting food and shopping, while ignoring Taiwan’s underdeveloped trekking and adventure travel opportunities. This discussion, however, is decidedly land-focused. When was the last time a port entered into it? Last week I encountered journalist and travel writer Cameron Dueck, who had sailed to Taiwan in 2023-24, and was full of tales. Like everyone who visits, he and his partner Fiona Ching loved our island nation and had nothing but wonderful experiences on land. But he had little positive to say about the way Taiwan has organized its
The entire Li Zhenxiu (李貞秀) saga has been an ugly, complicated mess. Born in China’s Hunan Province, she moved to work in Shenzhen, where she met her future Taiwanese husband. Most accounts have her arriving in Taiwan and marrying somewhere between 1993 and 1999. She built a successful career in Taiwan in the tech industry before founding her own company. She also served in high-ranking positions on various environmentally-focused tech associations. She says she was inspired by the founding of the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) in 2019 by Ko Wen-je (柯文哲), and began volunteering for the party soon after. Ko
By global standards, the traffic congestion that afflicts Taiwan’s urban areas isn’t horrific. But nor is it something the country can be proud of. According to TomTom, a Dutch developer of location and navigation technologies, last year Taiwan was the sixth most congested country in Asia. Of the 492 towns and cities included in its rankings last year, Taipei was the 74th most congested. Taoyuan ranked 105th, while Hsinchu County (121st), Taichung (142nd), Tainan (173rd), New Taipei City (227th), Kaohsiung (241st) and Keelung (302nd) also featured on the list. Four Japanese cities have slower traffic than Taipei. (Seoul, which has some
RSS