More singing, less talk please

CALL Lo Ta-yu the preacher-doctor, if you will.

If there was one thing that the godfather of Taiwanese rock and pop did not do enough of at his Singaporean debut concert, it was singing.

Over the 150-minute concert, the former medical practitioner regaled the audience with too much small talk on coping with Sars in Asia, and conspiracy theories on the decline of the late great Hong Kong performer, Anita Mui.

The extended bouts of music-less dialogue merely encouraged the three-quarter-house crowd to hoot encouragingly for the one encore that, unfortunately, Lo never gave.


On the short songlist that he did offer, though, Lo gave his all.

Starting with the freshly-written Qing Lu (Partner) off his upcoming new album, Tayu 2.0, Lo belted tunes in his trademark gravelly voice.

A firecracker in a black suit, he expounded more energy than could pack his small, prancing and hopping frame on stage.

These antics were supported by an able drummer, Lewis Pragasam, and his guitar team of Lee Ting Khuang and Jamie Wilson.

Going through a Hall Of Fame selection of hits like Lugang Xiaozhen (Village By The Port Road), Tongnian (Childhood) and Orphan Of Asia, the combo gave audiences a dose of that late 1980s university student gestalt, tinged with a fair amount of nostalgia.

Whether this spirit has moved on into the Tayu 2.0 world of the 21st century that Lo keeps on talking about - in between self-deprecating references to ageing - however, remains to be seen.

Here, it is not so much a question of Lo having (or not) moved with the times, but how far the Taiwanese scene has moved beyond him.

One can now begin to gauge the contributions of acts like Wu Bai and May Day, bands which have continued along the paths Lo created back in the 1990s.

But it is also telling that it has taken Singapore 20 years to invite the pioneer rocker for his debut concert here. More ironic is that the invitation came not from a traditional rock arena but on the inventive initiative of a high-class arts venue.

Has mainstream Taiwanese rock gone soft in the face of R&B, boy bands and syrupy ballads?

Perhaps it is still riding on the fuel of that 1980s university fervour, now transformed into the large purchasing power of 30-something intellectuals.

Or perhaps, as Lo might wonder himself, has rock simply gone 'classic'?

新加坡海峽時報