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.
That US assistance was a model for Taiwan’s spectacular development success was early recognized by policymakers and analysts. In a report to the US Congress for the fiscal year 1962, former President John F. Kennedy noted Taiwan’s “rapid economic growth,” was “producing a substantial net gain in living.” Kennedy had a stake in Taiwan’s achievements and the US’ official development assistance (ODA) in general: In September 1961, his entreaty to make the 1960s a “decade of development,” and an accompanying proposal for dedicated legislation to this end, had been formalized by congressional passage of the Foreign Assistance Act. Two
Despite the intense sunshine, we were hardly breaking a sweat as we cruised along the flat, dedicated bike lane, well protected from the heat by a canopy of trees. The electric assist on the bikes likely made a difference, too. Far removed from the bustle and noise of the Taichung traffic, we admired the serene rural scenery, making our way over rivers, alongside rice paddies and through pear orchards. Our route for the day covered two bike paths that connect in Fengyuan District (豐原) and are best done together. The Hou-Feng Bike Path (后豐鐵馬道) runs southward from Houli District (后里) while the
March 31 to April 6 On May 13, 1950, National Taiwan University Hospital otolaryngologist Su You-peng (蘇友鵬) was summoned to the director’s office. He thought someone had complained about him practicing the violin at night, but when he entered the room, he knew something was terribly wrong. He saw several burly men who appeared to be government secret agents, and three other resident doctors: internist Hsu Chiang (許強), dermatologist Hu Pao-chen (胡寶珍) and ophthalmologist Hu Hsin-lin (胡鑫麟). They were handcuffed, herded onto two jeeps and taken to the Secrecy Bureau (保密局) for questioning. Su was still in his doctor’s robes at
Mirror mirror on the wall, what’s the fairest Disney live-action remake of them all? Wait, mirror. Hold on a second. Maybe choosing from the likes of Alice in Wonderland (2010), Mulan (2020) and The Lion King (2019) isn’t such a good idea. Mirror, on second thought, what’s on Netflix? Even the most devoted fans would have to acknowledge that these have not been the most illustrious illustrations of Disney magic. At their best (Pete’s Dragon? Cinderella?) they breathe life into old classics that could use a little updating. At their worst, well, blue Will Smith. Given the rapacious rate of remakes in modern