Mando-pop icon Van Fan (范逸臣), 31, has performed that most miraculous of feats — he revived a flagging showbusiness career.
The heartthrob shot to overnight fame with his delivery of I Believe for the 2002 South Korean blockbuster comedy flick My Sassy Girl (我的野蠻女友), but his career nose-dived after he was photographed peeing in public on a Taipei street by Next Magazine.
In 2008, the idol formerly nicknamed “the prince of love songs” (情歌王子) returned as a rocker with crew cut and scruffy facial hair and released a greatest hits album titled No-Bars-Hold Fun (無樂不作), but the big time proved elusive.
His turn as the down-on-his-luck band member Aga (阿嘉) in the 2008 blockbuster Cape No. 7 (海角七號) jolted his career out of limbo.
After his rebirth as a movie star, Van Fan returned to his indie band roots by forming Craze Band (酷愛樂團) with guitarist Alex (黃冠龍) last year and went on to release the group’s debut album, Fresh Blood (初生之犢), in April.
“Rock is a music style I’m good at,” said Van Fan in a telephone interview earlier this week. “I formed this band in order to have a new beginning with my career. As part of this band, I am no longer just a pop star and am allowed to experiment with different ideas and music styles.”
Next Saturday, Van Fan performs with Craze Band and Aboriginal pop singer Tai Ai-ling (戴愛玲) in an evening titled Craze Ai-ling’s Rock Night (酷愛玲的搖滾之夜) at Legacy Taipei. The three will perform songs from Craze Band’s recent album and some of Van Fan’s signature songs in addition to covers of English-language rock anthems.
“It’s much more fun performing as a band,” said Van Fan. “You share all the experiences together: the crying, the sweating, the joy and the sorrow.”
A maturing songwriter, Van Fan co-wrote all seven songs from Craze’s debut album.
“Writing songs is a process of self-discovery for me,” said Van Fan. “You internalize what you have experienced before and inspect yourself.”
Since his acting breakthrough in Cape No. 7, Van Fan has continued to pursue his cinematic career with a role in the four-part romantic comedy L-O-V-E (愛到底) last year and then in the mafia comedy Gangster Rock (混混天團), released in April.
“Acting has enriched my life so much,” said Van Fan. “As a singer, you record alone and go to promotions alone. With a movie, it’s a collective experience that’s an accumulation of everyone’s work.”
“I got to meet many friends and learned ideas and experiences from them,” said Van Fan. “When you are alone too much, you run out of ideas.”
Unlike many aspiring singers who start their careers by bombarding record companies with demos, Van Fan found luck early on.
“I was in a band when I was 16 and started performing in pubs,” Van Fan said. “It was while [playing] in pubs that I was spotted by a producer and signed.”
Even if early success came easy, Van Fan is made of sterner stuff. After his micturition scandal he decided to go it alone and founded his own company, Paradise Bird Music, to release Craze Band’s first album.
“That was a low in my career, but it didn’t affect me that much as a person,” said Van Fan. “I see myself as a normal person who makes mistakes. That incident was blown up by the paparazzi. You can’t change what was done, you simply move on in life.”
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
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
“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
RSS