German philosopher Hans Jonas once posited that in order to think about the world in any meaningful way, one must start with fear.
In that same sort of vein, how does one think about the past year in live music here in Taiwan? What’s the appropriate emotional framework in which to set such an exposition?
Mirth? Contempt? Fond recollection? Blind rage? How about a schizophrenic cocktail of all of the above. I’ve always enjoyed a good cocktail, emotion-based or made of something sterner.
Photo courtesy of Blake Liu
Where else to begin but at the beginning with a band that has heralded music’s beginning, middle and end for over three decades. Swans. The year’s first month begun with a lesson in the shape of true punk to come, were the world we currently destroy a truly perfect one.
The New York City carrion birds swooped in on Taipei at the end of last January to pick the bones of Western musical waste and decadence clean, proceeding to level Legacy (傳音樂展演空間) with a two-hour set of noise-groove drawing from the band’s entire cacophonous canon. Band leader Michael Gira was at his tempestuous best, conducting like a man possessed from the pulpit of hell’s own fury.
One month later, Jack’s Studio (杰克音樂) in Ximending saw the return of undisputed Asia hardcore heavyweight champs King Ly Chee. Another heartening dose of will and determination, this time in the form of indomitable frontman Riz Farooqi, a careening, living, breathing, screaming mass of PMA (positive mental attitude, a credo from the 1990s hardcore scene) who for the past 15 years has flown the flag for hardcore in Hong Kong and the continent at large. In a scene where shows were in danger of becoming stale standstill affairs, Farooqi and company got the bodies flying on and off stage with a welcome dose of the old school.
Photo courtesy of King Ly Chee
As is usually the case in the Taipei scene, it was the imports who led the way in 2015. However, that is not to say the local lads and lasses didn’t make their own worthy contributions.
Early last September, Taipei-based black metal/folk band Bloody Tyrant (暴君) staged a unique show at Legacy, performing alongside a 10-piece orchestra. In a time and place where bands are at times humble to a fault, meek to the point of parody, some naked ambition from the boys from Nantou served notice to Taiwan born and bred musicians that humility need not be the native tongue that dooms them to self-imposed obscurity.
The most important emergence from a local standpoint was of Taipei death rockers Murky Crows (昏鴉). Awash in sound-alike post-rock and self-important and indulgent clones from one end of the musical spectrum to the other, the Crows brought a visceral cloak of darkness and danger to the usual Bauhaus and Joy Division tropes, making their rare appearances memorable ones.
Photo courtesy of Sibastian Sighell
Following on the heels of 2014’s Sunflower Movement, a lengthy period of protest in which many of the first wave who put themselves under the batons and water canons of the police were members of the Taiwan music community, last year also saw the scene up the ante in the political arena.
Last January, Chthonic (閃靈) vocalist Freddy Lim (林昶佐) and others announced the formation of the activism-based New Power Party (時代力量), an upstart collection of idealists from all walks of life who, like many of the nation’s youth, have grown weary of the stagnation bred by the two-party system that has bogged down Taiwan’s young democracy.
Speaking of idealists and exciting new beginnings, we also witnessed the emergence of new potential taste maker label Lonely God Records. The Taipei upstart quickly signed up a who’s who of the country’s noisy, eclectic and avant-garde acts, boasting an early roster consisting of the likes of Forests (森林), Prairie WWWW (落差草原), Scattered Purgatory (破地獄), EAOW (藝藥), and Lu & Du. Along with 22 Records, Lonely God represents a new hope for a new era of homegrown musical ingenuity.
Photo courtesy of Murky Crows
It’s hard to look forward, though, when promoters and certain segments of the fan base, seem so stubbornly rooted in the past. Last year was a year in which organizers seemed content to opt for booking nostalgia acts. Nu-metal has-beens Limp Bizkit staged a semi-infamous performance at the typhoon-beleagured Heartown Festival (山海屯音樂節) in Taichung last August. A few months later, Korn, a band of a similar ilk, coasted into town on a wave that crested at the break of the new millenium.
Two-thirds of Venom, touring as Venom Inc., made an appearance and, like the afforementioned pair, played a set in which the trio became their own cover band. Blatant self-plagiarizing bordering on embarassment wrapped up in the guise of harmless fun. It’s enough to make real acts like Bog Log III who would never rest on his creative laurels roll over in his inflatable dinghy.
Mirth. Contempt. Blind rage. Embarrassment. May the new year be filled with the necessary and heady elixir of all three.
When the Dutch began interacting with the indigenous people of Taiwan, they found that their hunters classified deer hide quality for trade using the Portuguese terms for “head,” “belly,” and “foot.” The Portuguese must have stopped here more than once to trade, but those visits have all been lost to history. They already had a colony on Macao, and did not need Taiwan to gain access to southern China or to the trade corridor that connected Japan with Manila. They were, however, the last to look at Taiwan that way. The geostrategic relationship between Taiwan and the Philippines was established
Sept. 9 to Sept. 15 The upgrading of sugarcane processing equipment at Ciaozaitou Sugar Factory (橋仔頭) in 1904 had an unintended but long-lasting impact on Taiwan’s transportation and rural development. The newly imported press machine more than doubled production, leading to an expansion of the factory’s fields beyond what its original handcarts and oxcarts could handle. In 1905, factory manager Tejiro Yamamoto headed to Hawaii to observe how sugarcane transportation was handled there. They had trouble finding something suitable for Taiwan until they discovered a 762mm-gauge “miniature” railroad at a small refinery in the island of Maui. On
“Once you get there, you think, that’s a little embarrassing or revealing or scary... but ultimately, I learned that is where the good stuff is,” says Taiwanese-American director Sean Wang about writing indie breakout Didi (弟弟), which debuted at Sundance Film Festival Asia 2024 in Taipei last month. Didi is a heartwarming coming-of-age story centered on the Asian American experience. Not just a 2000s teenage nostalgia piece, but a raw, unflinching look at immigrant families and adolescent identity struggles. It quickly became the centerpiece of the event, striking a chord with not only those sharing similar backgrounds but anyone who’s ever
“Magical,” “special,” a “total badass:” step forward Kamala Harris, the 59-year-old dynamo who has rebranded her country at lightning speed, offering it up as a nation synonymous with optimism, hope and patriotism. For the rest of us, Kamala’s gift is her joy and vibrancy — and the way she is smashing it just months away from her seventh decade, holding up 60 in all its power and glory. Welcome to the new golden age. Hers is the vibrancy of a woman who owns her power, a woman who is manifesting her experience and expertise, a woman who knows her time has
RSS