Hsu Chia-ying (徐佳瑩) was one of the boldest and most creative of the alumni from the third season of CTV’s One Million Star (超級星光大道) pop music talent show. The release of her debut album suggests that she might be around for some time. Her song I Ride a White Horse (身騎白馬), which combines teen pop and gezai opera (歌仔戲), has already proved a huge hit securing massive airtime, and has the distinction of achieving a smooth musical and lyrical integration between two very different forms, a feat that has confounded many more experienced artists.
The chorus of I Ride a White Horse, sung in Taiwanese, references not just a classical heritage, but also, whether intentionally or not, its glitzy, kitschy manifestation of televised golden light puppets. It is romantic, heroic, just a tad tongue-in-cheek, and totally self-assured.
At just 24, Hsu has emerged as a talented musician in the Mando-pop mainstream, and one who is no stranger to the commercial possibilities of a catchy tune. The final track on the album My Door’s Not Locked (沒鎖門) was commissioned for the 10th anniversary of the MSN chat service, and for all its marketing functionality, is a remarkably appealing bit of bubblegum pop, down to MSN sound effects and online slang.
Most of the songs are playful and reference everything from well-known classical poems to the preference settings of online chatting software. The result is an attractive lack of pretense in the way these references are used. Hsu is very much at home in the world of MSN, Japanese-inflected slang, Internet jargon and Taiwanese catchphrases, and has, for the most part, incorporated them effectively into her songs. It is not groundbreaking stuff, but Hsu has produced an album of well-crafted pop music that has the occasional spark of real invention. What more can you ask? Since her appearance in One Million Star, Hsu has lost something of her Betty Boop chubbiness; let’s hope that the entertainment industry has not sweated away her creativity in the process.
— Ian Bartholomew
With her third album, City (城市), singer-songwriter Deserts Chang (張懸) has taken her music into the mainstream, picking up backing band Algae, a Brit-pop sound, and a hint of rock princess attitude. For the soft-spoken singer who came to fame on the campus circuit with her disarmingly simple first album My Life Will … with vulnerable songs like Baby (寶貝), this is quite a shift. This new album might be described as electronic-tinged urban folk rock.
Chang is a talented lyricist, but with City she has moved from an intimate world of personal experience to take on the broader canvas of modern life in the big city. She has put on some big city attitude, but this is not enough to cover up her lack of assurance in this new milieu. The album is full of cliches, but is saved from itself by Chang’s ever-evocative voice and occasional melodic brio. Behind the tired rock ’n’ roll poses, there are still flashes of vulnerability and a fearless curiosity about herself and the world around her.
The song Jiu Zai (就在) has plenty of lyrical sophistication and a driving rhythm that creates one of the most appealing numbers on the album. The more heavily orchestrated and electronic title track is a well crafted pop song but thick with echoes of Faith Yang’s (楊乃文) early work. The acoustic Beautiful Woman is full of the sunshine of young love set against a cheery melody; it’s a nice take on a familiar theme, but its appeal is in its superficial throwaway pop quality. When Chang tries to get deep, with songs like Selling, which is about consumer culture, she has little to say and the tough attitude comes off as a little girl playing at tigers. By trying to be more than she is, Chang has produced an album that shortchanges her talent.
—Ian Bartholomew
This compilation from socially conscious rapper Chang Jui-chuan (張睿銓) offers some relief from the R ’n’ B and hip-hop wannabes that litter the Mando-pop landscape in Taiwan.
Even if the title seems a little grandiose — much of the album contains remixes from Chang’s 2006 debut, Genesis (創世記) — the songs remain fresh and worth a listen.
Chang’s anti-globalization diatribe, My Language (我的語言), gets two treatments: The “Universal Grammar Mix” is a straight-up version full of feel-good R ’n’ B riffs and Chinese pop hooks; the second version is an artful mash-up done in collaboration with popstar-turned-electronica artist Lim Giong (林強).
Chang, who raps in both English and Hokkien [commonly known as Taiwanese], sometimes trips over his own eloquence at the expense of the groove. But his delivery impresses on rhymes like “I speak your language don’t mean I’m your slave/I speak your language cause I’m about to invade/Your music, your culture, your beliefs and your fate/With kung fu, Confucius, Tao, and my name.”
He can carry a tune, too. On the “Dub Mix” version of Hope is Here (希望的所在), recorded with Red-I and the Riddim Outlawz, he croons about his wish for all Taiwanese to “unite.” The song’s reggae instrumentation works well with Chang’s Hokkien lyrics and best of all, it sounds natural and authentic.
And for those worried about Taiwanese youth losing sight of their history, Chang comes to the rescue. Hey Kid, a catchy retelling of the 228 incident and bits of the White Terror period, is a nice example of folk music storytelling incorporated into hip-hop.
Other notable collaborators include South African MoShang, who leaves his signature mix of Asian music grooves on the “Disquiet Mix” of Hey Kid and the “Freedom Mix” of Hope Is Here. Hakka hip-hop crew Kou Chou Ching (拷秋勤) appears on Civil Revolt Chapter 1.
Chang’s poster-boy image — as a PhD student, lecturer in English composition and devout Christian — adds to his novelty as a rapper. But this doesn’t make for a reason to take note of Exodus; rather, it’s Chang’s conviction and talent that make him one to watch.
— David Chen
Some oldies are waiting to be rediscovered in this collection of Taiwanese popular songs from the 1930s. This 23-song CD and accompanying 100-page booklet will interest history buffs, record collectors and anyone interested in the roots of Asian pop.
The songs were digitized from 78 RPM records loaned by collectors. As such, expect to hear a few pops and scratches, but consider it part of the experience of listening to these rare recordings.
The recordings were part of an effort among musicians and composers to preserve Taiwan’s culture by creating its own pop music during the Japanese occupation.
Taiwanese lyricist Lee Lin-chiu (李臨秋) features prominently, having penned nearly half of the tracks in this collection. Other artists include well-known composer Teng Yu-hsien (鄧雨賢) and lyricists Chen Chun-yu (陳君玉) and Chen Ta-ju (陳達儒).
Listeners will recognize classic folk melodies sung in Hokkien. Many songs were recorded with brass and string orchestras, standard for that time, which lend the tunes a quaint charm.
Traditional Chinese instruments like the pipa (�? and bamboo flute also appear, and the final two tracks are the A and B sides of a Taiwanese opera record.
But just as notable are the outside influences heard in the music. The melody to Dadaocheng Late at Night (夜半的大稻城) writhes slowly and sorrowfully much like a Japanese nakasi tune. To the Flowers (對花) almost bounces with jazz syncopation.
There’s another hint of American pop culture in Hope in the Spring Winds (望春風): The vibrato notes from a steel guitar are most likely a nod to the worldwide popularity of Hawaiian music at the time.
Taipei City’s Department of Cultural Affairs and the Taiwan New Cultural Movement Hall deserve credit for pouring resources into an interesting and worthy project. But recognition is also due to project planner and collector Chuang Yung-ming (莊永明), who wrote an extensive history and background on the composers, singers and songs for the accompanying booklet. Unfortunately it’s only in Mandarin
The CD is currently available at Eslite Music Store (誠品音樂館).
If you are a Western and especially a white foreign resident of Taiwan, you’ve undoubtedly had the experience of Taiwanese assuming you to be an English teacher. There are cultural and economic reasons for this, but one of the greatest determinants is the narrow range of work permit categories that exist for Taiwan’s foreign residents, which has in turn created an unofficial caste system for foreigners. Until recently, laowai (老外) — the Mandarin term for “foreigners,” which also implies citizenship in a rich, Western country and distinguishable from brown-skinned, southeast Asian migrant laborers, or wailao (外勞) — could only ever
Sept. 23 to Sept. 29 The construction of the Babao Irrigation Canal (八堡圳) was not going well. Large-scale irrigation structures were almost unheard of in Taiwan in 1709, but Shih Shih-pang (施世榜) was determined to divert water from the Jhuoshuei River (濁水溪) to the Changhua plain, where he owned land, to promote wet rice cultivation. According to legend, a mysterious old man only known as Mr. Lin (林先生) appeared and taught Shih how to use woven conical baskets filled with rocks called shigou (石笱) to control water diversion, as well as other techniques such as surveying terrain by observing shadows during
In recent weeks news outlets have been reporting on rising rents. Last year they hit a 27 year high. It seems only a matter of time before they become a serious political issue. Fortunately, there is a whole political party that is laser focused on this issue, the Taiwan Statebuilding Party (TSP). They could have had a seat or two in the legislature, or at least, be large enough to attract media attention to the rent issue from time to time. Unfortunately, in the last election, Taiwan People’s Party (TPP) Chairman Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) acted as a vote sink for
This is a film about two “fools,” according to the official synopsis. But admirable ones. In his late thirties, A-jen quits his high-paying tech job and buys a plot of land in the countryside, hoping to use municipal trash to revitalize the soil that has been contaminated by decades of pesticide and chemical fertilizer use. Brother An-ho, in his 60s, on the other hand, began using organic methods to revive the dead soil on his land 30 years ago despite the ridicule of his peers, methodically picking each pest off his produce by hand without killing them out of respect