Artists' Mood
Leo Wang
On his official Facebook page, Taiwan’s Leo Wang lays out his mission of “trying to combine jazz, hip-hop, reggae and scat singing with Mandarin Chinese in a groovy way, and making his people dance”.
He lives up to that pursuit of eclecticism on his fourth so-called mixtape, an apt description for this album of diverse genres and influences with music that is fun, irreverent and cheeky.
On the opener Thoughts Of Lee Kuo Hsiu, which is addressed to the late Taiwanese theatre pioneer, he raps smoothly: “You’ll slowly get used to my style/And gripe that you get testy on nights without me.”
He switches gears, grooving to a laid-back reggae beat, on Soul Truck and Jam All Night, which is about the pure pleasure of making music: “I think everything will be all right/As long as we can jam all night/Use your hands to drum, use your feet to drum/Use your mouth to drum, use your body to drum.”
Turning Eighteen is about Wang doggedly pursuing his music dreams and it seems to be his own experience cloaked in the guise of advice: “Child, congrats on turning 18/Want to make a living doing music, you might have to move to Taipei/Child, congrats on turning 18/The excuse for moving, just say you’re heading to uni.”
At the same time, it is also a no-holds-barred portrayal of slacker, hormonal youth. J***ing Off, Got Caught sets up the scenario of the title and then gets progressively kinkier.
The mixtape also features collaborations with a few artists.
Weekends With You dissects a mismatched relationship with honesty from his point of view and that of female singer 9m88’s. He confesses: “I just wanna head home I don’t feel so well/I don’t like people.”
He might have to get used to people liking his music, though.
(ST)
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
Home III
Lo Ta-yu
Home Coming
Bobby Chen
Two grizzled veterans of the Taiwanese music scene ruminate on the meaning of home in their new albums.
The question is particularly pertinent for troubadour Lo Ta-yu, 63, as he was born in Taiwan, but has lived in the United States and Hong Kong and has a music studio in Beijing.
It is a theme that he has dealt with before. The songs Home I and Home II are on the 1984 album Home, a very different animal from his earlier, more politically charged works, which led to him being pegged as a “protest singer”.
Then, he yearned for the warmth of the past and wondered on Home II: “What place can appease an exhausted spirit which has been wandering the ends of the world.”
Now the father of a five-year-old daughter, he is the one who is providing a safe haven and it is as if he is singing on her behalf in Home III: “Give me feelings of warmth, understanding, strength and mutual protection/Hope that as I grow up in days to come of cold, heat and storms, my heart will never change.”
Even with an eye on the future, Lo reminisces fondly about the past. On the breezy and folksy Reunion, he recalls his schooldays: “That period in my life with no regrets and no complaints.”
The mood is more elegiac on singer-songwriter Bobby Chen’s record. Its title track begins with a chorus of la-la-las over a simple guitar accompaniment and it is suffused with nostalgia and a gentle melancholy.
It ends with a moving line about his late mother: “My mother, she wasn’t beautiful, how do I describe her.”
On the album closer Yesterday Today Tomorrow, Chen, 58, reflects: “Time is inscrutable/Maybe no one should live today, but dream of returning to yesterday.”
Like Lo, Chen has had a peripatetic existence. But while he has recorded his music in various countries and published books about his overseas travels, he seems to have neglected his own country.
This was the genesis for Home Coming and he even went back to his birthplace, Changhua County, to shoot the music video for the title track.
There is no mistaking the honesty and depth of emotion in these albums and the rough-hewn, weathered voices of the two musicians are part of the homespun charm.
(ST)
Lo Ta-yu
Home Coming
Bobby Chen
Two grizzled veterans of the Taiwanese music scene ruminate on the meaning of home in their new albums.
The question is particularly pertinent for troubadour Lo Ta-yu, 63, as he was born in Taiwan, but has lived in the United States and Hong Kong and has a music studio in Beijing.
It is a theme that he has dealt with before. The songs Home I and Home II are on the 1984 album Home, a very different animal from his earlier, more politically charged works, which led to him being pegged as a “protest singer”.
Then, he yearned for the warmth of the past and wondered on Home II: “What place can appease an exhausted spirit which has been wandering the ends of the world.”
Now the father of a five-year-old daughter, he is the one who is providing a safe haven and it is as if he is singing on her behalf in Home III: “Give me feelings of warmth, understanding, strength and mutual protection/Hope that as I grow up in days to come of cold, heat and storms, my heart will never change.”
Even with an eye on the future, Lo reminisces fondly about the past. On the breezy and folksy Reunion, he recalls his schooldays: “That period in my life with no regrets and no complaints.”
The mood is more elegiac on singer-songwriter Bobby Chen’s record. Its title track begins with a chorus of la-la-las over a simple guitar accompaniment and it is suffused with nostalgia and a gentle melancholy.
It ends with a moving line about his late mother: “My mother, she wasn’t beautiful, how do I describe her.”
On the album closer Yesterday Today Tomorrow, Chen, 58, reflects: “Time is inscrutable/Maybe no one should live today, but dream of returning to yesterday.”
Like Lo, Chen has had a peripatetic existence. But while he has recorded his music in various countries and published books about his overseas travels, he seems to have neglected his own country.
This was the genesis for Home Coming and he even went back to his birthplace, Changhua County, to shoot the music video for the title track.
There is no mistaking the honesty and depth of emotion in these albums and the rough-hewn, weathered voices of the two musicians are part of the homespun charm.
(ST)
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
Abstract
Shio Quek
A crop of up-and-comers is injecting the Malaysian music scene with much-needed new blood.
Duo FS (Fuying & Sam) have been scaling the charts with radio-friendly tracks such as It Should Be Better For Us To Break Up, sounding like an updated version of Wu Yin Liang Pin. Meanwhile, Shio Quek is a singer-songwriter in the vein of, say, Penny Tai, and is in fact signed to the latter’s agency.
Sporting a head of pink hair on the album cover, Quek is clearly no shrinking violet.
Opening track Extrication is an atmospheric slice of minimalist electronica with a softly hypnotic thump and haunting synth line about breaking out of a bad relationship. She declares determinedly in English on the chorus: “I need an extrication/I need to extricate myself away from the pain.”
The track also features a guest turn by Taiwanese rapper Miss Ko and it all comes together nicely.
Quek switches effortlessly between English and Mandarin, though the wholly English ballads End To Ribbons and Your Name are not her most compelling work here.
Head instead for the pleasures of ballad Solo Bliss, which touches on the fleetingness of happiness: “This solo bliss, can only understand by listening with eyes shut/Even if everything’s not mine, I won’t beg anymore.”
The album feels too ballad-heavy though, and more could have been done with the music arrangements, such as for Chimera, which features an ear-catching electronica intro.
What keeps one from quickly extricating oneself from the album is her consistently compelling singing.
(ST)
Shio Quek
A crop of up-and-comers is injecting the Malaysian music scene with much-needed new blood.
Duo FS (Fuying & Sam) have been scaling the charts with radio-friendly tracks such as It Should Be Better For Us To Break Up, sounding like an updated version of Wu Yin Liang Pin. Meanwhile, Shio Quek is a singer-songwriter in the vein of, say, Penny Tai, and is in fact signed to the latter’s agency.
Sporting a head of pink hair on the album cover, Quek is clearly no shrinking violet.
Opening track Extrication is an atmospheric slice of minimalist electronica with a softly hypnotic thump and haunting synth line about breaking out of a bad relationship. She declares determinedly in English on the chorus: “I need an extrication/I need to extricate myself away from the pain.”
The track also features a guest turn by Taiwanese rapper Miss Ko and it all comes together nicely.
Quek switches effortlessly between English and Mandarin, though the wholly English ballads End To Ribbons and Your Name are not her most compelling work here.
Head instead for the pleasures of ballad Solo Bliss, which touches on the fleetingness of happiness: “This solo bliss, can only understand by listening with eyes shut/Even if everything’s not mine, I won’t beg anymore.”
The album feels too ballad-heavy though, and more could have been done with the music arrangements, such as for Chimera, which features an ear-catching electronica intro.
What keeps one from quickly extricating oneself from the album is her consistently compelling singing.
(ST)
Let Me Eat Your Pancreas
Sho Tsukikawa
The story: Popular high-school student Sakura Yamauchi (Minami Hamabe) is dying as her pancreas is failing. Her unnamed geeky librarian classmate (Takumi Kitamura) stumbles upon her diary and learns her secret. As she draws him out of his shell, he helps her to fulfil her bucket-list wishes. Based on the 2015 novel of the same name by Yoru Sumino.
Never mind its fantasy horror title, Let Me Eat Your Pancreas is actually an old-fashioned tearjerker.
There is a burgeoning romance and a girl with a terminal disease who is outwardly cheerful and optimistic. One would not know that she is seriously ill just by looking at her.
Hamabe brings a sunny chirpiness and a touching vulnerability to the role of a young girl confronting her mortality. Her character, Sakura, is not made out to be a saint as she is curious about sex. However, her attempts at seduction are valiantly resisted, sometimes to almost comic effect, by Kitamura’s character, who remains unnamed throughout the film.
The growing friendship with her classmate seems unlikely, given that they are on opposite ends of the popularity spectrum, but as she says to him: “You’re the only one who can keep my life normal.”
Kitamura, a member of Japanese pop-rock band Dish, gives a sensitive performance as his restrained character slowly opens up. It also makes his breakdown late in the movie that much more moving.
Director Sho Tsukikawa (The 100th Love With You, 2017) is deft with the emotional scenes, letting them land with an impact that stings.
He overdoes it a bit with the soft focus and light-filled scenes, although the shots featuring cherry blossoms in full bloom are admittedly gorgeous.
The movie also jumps forward 12 years, a period that is not covered in the book. It shows the impact Sakura has had on the male protagonist (now played by Shun Oguri), as he was nudged to become a teacher at their school because of something she said; and on her best friend, Kyoko (adult version played by Keiko Kitagawa), who was puzzled by and jealous of their closeness.
The memory of her still burns bright for them.
(ST)
Sho Tsukikawa
The story: Popular high-school student Sakura Yamauchi (Minami Hamabe) is dying as her pancreas is failing. Her unnamed geeky librarian classmate (Takumi Kitamura) stumbles upon her diary and learns her secret. As she draws him out of his shell, he helps her to fulfil her bucket-list wishes. Based on the 2015 novel of the same name by Yoru Sumino.
Never mind its fantasy horror title, Let Me Eat Your Pancreas is actually an old-fashioned tearjerker.
There is a burgeoning romance and a girl with a terminal disease who is outwardly cheerful and optimistic. One would not know that she is seriously ill just by looking at her.
Hamabe brings a sunny chirpiness and a touching vulnerability to the role of a young girl confronting her mortality. Her character, Sakura, is not made out to be a saint as she is curious about sex. However, her attempts at seduction are valiantly resisted, sometimes to almost comic effect, by Kitamura’s character, who remains unnamed throughout the film.
The growing friendship with her classmate seems unlikely, given that they are on opposite ends of the popularity spectrum, but as she says to him: “You’re the only one who can keep my life normal.”
Kitamura, a member of Japanese pop-rock band Dish, gives a sensitive performance as his restrained character slowly opens up. It also makes his breakdown late in the movie that much more moving.
Director Sho Tsukikawa (The 100th Love With You, 2017) is deft with the emotional scenes, letting them land with an impact that stings.
He overdoes it a bit with the soft focus and light-filled scenes, although the shots featuring cherry blossoms in full bloom are admittedly gorgeous.
The movie also jumps forward 12 years, a period that is not covered in the book. It shows the impact Sakura has had on the male protagonist (now played by Shun Oguri), as he was nudged to become a teacher at their school because of something she said; and on her best friend, Kyoko (adult version played by Keiko Kitagawa), who was puzzled by and jealous of their closeness.
The memory of her still burns bright for them.
(ST)
Saturday, September 09, 2017
“Why does the Singapore Government restrict the broadcasting of Chinese dialects in the mass media?”
Mass media content comes under the purview of the Info-communications Media Development Authority (IMDA).
Broadcasters have to ensure that their programmes are in line with the authority’s content guidelines, which are stricter for free-to-air media because they are easily accessible by almost everyone.
Under the Free-To-Air Television Programme Code and Free-To-Air Radio Programme Code, it is stated that all Chinese programmes, except operas or other programmes specifically approved, must be in Mandarin.
Dialects in dialogues and songs may be allowed, provided the context justifies usage and is “sparingly used”.
Other exceptions include news, current affairs and info-educational programmes where interviews are given by older people or foreigners who are conversant only in dialect. Some dialect terms such as those used for food, for example, char kway teow, may be used in local dramas.
Under the Board of Film Censors’ Classification Guidelines, the reason for this is spelt out.
“Films with dialect content are allowed on a case-by-case basis. Chinese films meant for theatrical release should generally be in Mandarin, in line with the Speak Mandarin Campaign.”
This was launched in 1979 with the objective of replacing dialects with Mandarin among Chinese Singaporeans. The use of dialects is seen as fundamentally undermining the spread of Mandarin.
In recent years though, there appears to be a loosening of restrictions on the use of dialect on free-to-air television.
The 10-episode Hokkien drama Jiak Ba Buay (Eat Already?) last year was reportedly the first dialect series aired in Singapore since 1979. It was a collaboration between Mediacorp and the Ministry of Communications and Information that was aimed at conveying government policies, such as MediShield Life, to senior citizens who may not be as comfortable in Mandarin. The third season of the show is currently airing on Channel 8 until Oct 27.
Also last year, variety series Happy Can Already! took on topics from SkillsFuture to retirement in songs and skits in a mix of Hokkien, Cantonese and Teochew. The second season ended its run in July.
IMDA says, though, that there is no change to the Government’s dialect policy for mass media. “Dialect broadcasts are not new; we have always had them for older Chinese Singaporeans.”
The authority notes that dialect content remains available on various platforms.
On radio, Mediacorp’s Capital 95.8FM offers daily morning news bulletins in dialects such as Cantonese, Hokkien, Teochew, Hainanese, Foochow and Hakka.
On free-to-air TV, Channel 8 broadcasts dialect operas on Friday mornings as well as MediShield and Pioneer Generation Package interstitials in dialect.
There is also flexibility for okto channel to screen art-house films with dialect content.
In addition, pay-TV operators offer channels with dialect content such as StarHub’s TVBJ (Cantonese) and Singtel’s Jia Le Channel (Hokkien), and also carry dialect titles on its video-on-demand services.
There are no restrictions on the sale and distribution of dialect videos and music albums, as well as on outdoor and theatrical performances and events.
(ST)
Mass media content comes under the purview of the Info-communications Media Development Authority (IMDA).
Broadcasters have to ensure that their programmes are in line with the authority’s content guidelines, which are stricter for free-to-air media because they are easily accessible by almost everyone.
Under the Free-To-Air Television Programme Code and Free-To-Air Radio Programme Code, it is stated that all Chinese programmes, except operas or other programmes specifically approved, must be in Mandarin.
Dialects in dialogues and songs may be allowed, provided the context justifies usage and is “sparingly used”.
Other exceptions include news, current affairs and info-educational programmes where interviews are given by older people or foreigners who are conversant only in dialect. Some dialect terms such as those used for food, for example, char kway teow, may be used in local dramas.
Under the Board of Film Censors’ Classification Guidelines, the reason for this is spelt out.
“Films with dialect content are allowed on a case-by-case basis. Chinese films meant for theatrical release should generally be in Mandarin, in line with the Speak Mandarin Campaign.”
This was launched in 1979 with the objective of replacing dialects with Mandarin among Chinese Singaporeans. The use of dialects is seen as fundamentally undermining the spread of Mandarin.
In recent years though, there appears to be a loosening of restrictions on the use of dialect on free-to-air television.
The 10-episode Hokkien drama Jiak Ba Buay (Eat Already?) last year was reportedly the first dialect series aired in Singapore since 1979. It was a collaboration between Mediacorp and the Ministry of Communications and Information that was aimed at conveying government policies, such as MediShield Life, to senior citizens who may not be as comfortable in Mandarin. The third season of the show is currently airing on Channel 8 until Oct 27.
Also last year, variety series Happy Can Already! took on topics from SkillsFuture to retirement in songs and skits in a mix of Hokkien, Cantonese and Teochew. The second season ended its run in July.
IMDA says, though, that there is no change to the Government’s dialect policy for mass media. “Dialect broadcasts are not new; we have always had them for older Chinese Singaporeans.”
The authority notes that dialect content remains available on various platforms.
On radio, Mediacorp’s Capital 95.8FM offers daily morning news bulletins in dialects such as Cantonese, Hokkien, Teochew, Hainanese, Foochow and Hakka.
On free-to-air TV, Channel 8 broadcasts dialect operas on Friday mornings as well as MediShield and Pioneer Generation Package interstitials in dialect.
There is also flexibility for okto channel to screen art-house films with dialect content.
In addition, pay-TV operators offer channels with dialect content such as StarHub’s TVBJ (Cantonese) and Singtel’s Jia Le Channel (Hokkien), and also carry dialect titles on its video-on-demand services.
There are no restrictions on the sale and distribution of dialect videos and music albums, as well as on outdoor and theatrical performances and events.
(ST)
Wednesday, September 06, 2017
Colour Of The Game
Kam Ka Wai
The story: Old-hand gang member Wallace (Simon Yam) is tasked to kill Robert, the son of a mob boss. In addition to his protege Sky (Philip Ng), he also rounds up his usual gang, which includes his daughter, Lily (Sabrina Qiu), Tyson (Jordan Chan) and BBQ (Cheung Siu Fai). The mission goes horribly wrong and Wallace later finds out that it was all a set-up to flush out the mole in his team.
As Wallace and gang prepare to head out to take down Robert, they are all dressed in the same hue, as though they are part of a pop group. And pristine white is the colour of choice, never mind that their clothes are likely to be stained with grime and blood.
Meanwhile, the army of baddies who surprise them are dressed head to toe in black, like ninjas.
How else will the audience be able to tell them apart? What better way to illustrate how utterly literal the film is in the interpretation of its title?
Prolific B-grade film-maker Wong Jing previously directed Colour Of The Truth (2003) and Colour Of The Loyalty (2005). Colour Of The Game is supposedly the third film in the trilogy, but it is a standalone title. He writes and produces, but hands over directing duties to Kam Ka Wai (iGirl, 2016).
What this means is that visually, there are some nicely lensed scenes with unusual angles.
But Kam is ultimately hemmed in by the lacklustre story.
The revelation of the mole comes as an anticlimax and the themes of brotherhood and torn loyalties have been more fruitfully explored elsewhere. Meanwhile, busty actresses fill out the one-dimensional female characters.
It is hard to pinpoint why this was even made in the first place. Or how they managed to assemble a cast that includes the likes of Yam, Cheung and Chan. But even these workhorses of the Hong Kong movie industry need something, anything, to work with.
(ST)
Kam Ka Wai
The story: Old-hand gang member Wallace (Simon Yam) is tasked to kill Robert, the son of a mob boss. In addition to his protege Sky (Philip Ng), he also rounds up his usual gang, which includes his daughter, Lily (Sabrina Qiu), Tyson (Jordan Chan) and BBQ (Cheung Siu Fai). The mission goes horribly wrong and Wallace later finds out that it was all a set-up to flush out the mole in his team.
As Wallace and gang prepare to head out to take down Robert, they are all dressed in the same hue, as though they are part of a pop group. And pristine white is the colour of choice, never mind that their clothes are likely to be stained with grime and blood.
Meanwhile, the army of baddies who surprise them are dressed head to toe in black, like ninjas.
How else will the audience be able to tell them apart? What better way to illustrate how utterly literal the film is in the interpretation of its title?
Prolific B-grade film-maker Wong Jing previously directed Colour Of The Truth (2003) and Colour Of The Loyalty (2005). Colour Of The Game is supposedly the third film in the trilogy, but it is a standalone title. He writes and produces, but hands over directing duties to Kam Ka Wai (iGirl, 2016).
What this means is that visually, there are some nicely lensed scenes with unusual angles.
But Kam is ultimately hemmed in by the lacklustre story.
The revelation of the mole comes as an anticlimax and the themes of brotherhood and torn loyalties have been more fruitfully explored elsewhere. Meanwhile, busty actresses fill out the one-dimensional female characters.
It is hard to pinpoint why this was even made in the first place. Or how they managed to assemble a cast that includes the likes of Yam, Cheung and Chan. But even these workhorses of the Hong Kong movie industry need something, anything, to work with.
(ST)
Midnight Runners
Kim Joo Hwan
The story: Jockish Gi Jun (Park Seo Jun) and geekish Hee Yeol (Kang Ha Neul) are fellow students and best friends at the police academy. They witness a young woman getting abducted and, having learnt that time is of the essence in such cases, decide to follow up on their own time – even when they run up against red tape and find they could be expelled.
The infectious chemistry between the lead actors makes Midnight Runners a fun and satisfying movie to watch
It has been a while since such an entertaining buddy action flick came along.
What makes it so watchable is the chemistry between the two charming and likeable lead actors, Park (She Was Pretty, 2015) and Kang (Misaeng, 2014). They radiate an energy that is sunny and infectious and they definitely have a blast when they are together.
Asked how long they have been dating while promoting the movie on a variety show, Park gamely answers: “It’s been about five months.”
In Midnight Runners, they play opposites. Hee Yeol is a germophobic book-smart student; Gi Jun is a jock who tends to be more impulsive.
In response to an exam question on how to investigate a crime, Hee Yeol effortlessly jots down the model answer, while Gi Jun simply lists down qualities such as being passionate.
What unites them is a youthful passion for doing the right thing, even if that means going against the rules. They may joke around and insult each other, but they also have each other’s backs when it matters.
The case here gives one pause as well. It unveils the horrific business of the forced harvesting of eggs from vulnerable young women to meet the demands of desperate couples who turn to fertility clinics.
Writer-director Jason Kim Joo Hwan manages to balance the dark crime with a generally lighter tone, as scrappy underdogs Gi Jun and Hee Yeol doggedly chase after the evil-doers and end up scolded, beaten and even strung up like two slabs of meat.
While Kim takes a jab or two at red tape and the blind following of orders, he is not totally dismissive of the police force. There is a nicely executed scene where Hee Yeol discovers that the self-defence moves he learnt in class are not useless after all.
Kudos to the director for deftly mixing comedy, action, crime and even morality drama in a satisfying movie that makes you want to stand up and cheer at the end.
Perhaps the best sign that the film works is that one would love to see Park and Kang crack more cases, and villainous skulls, together.
(ST)
Kim Joo Hwan
The story: Jockish Gi Jun (Park Seo Jun) and geekish Hee Yeol (Kang Ha Neul) are fellow students and best friends at the police academy. They witness a young woman getting abducted and, having learnt that time is of the essence in such cases, decide to follow up on their own time – even when they run up against red tape and find they could be expelled.
The infectious chemistry between the lead actors makes Midnight Runners a fun and satisfying movie to watch
It has been a while since such an entertaining buddy action flick came along.
What makes it so watchable is the chemistry between the two charming and likeable lead actors, Park (She Was Pretty, 2015) and Kang (Misaeng, 2014). They radiate an energy that is sunny and infectious and they definitely have a blast when they are together.
Asked how long they have been dating while promoting the movie on a variety show, Park gamely answers: “It’s been about five months.”
In Midnight Runners, they play opposites. Hee Yeol is a germophobic book-smart student; Gi Jun is a jock who tends to be more impulsive.
In response to an exam question on how to investigate a crime, Hee Yeol effortlessly jots down the model answer, while Gi Jun simply lists down qualities such as being passionate.
What unites them is a youthful passion for doing the right thing, even if that means going against the rules. They may joke around and insult each other, but they also have each other’s backs when it matters.
The case here gives one pause as well. It unveils the horrific business of the forced harvesting of eggs from vulnerable young women to meet the demands of desperate couples who turn to fertility clinics.
Writer-director Jason Kim Joo Hwan manages to balance the dark crime with a generally lighter tone, as scrappy underdogs Gi Jun and Hee Yeol doggedly chase after the evil-doers and end up scolded, beaten and even strung up like two slabs of meat.
While Kim takes a jab or two at red tape and the blind following of orders, he is not totally dismissive of the police force. There is a nicely executed scene where Hee Yeol discovers that the self-defence moves he learnt in class are not useless after all.
Kudos to the director for deftly mixing comedy, action, crime and even morality drama in a satisfying movie that makes you want to stand up and cheer at the end.
Perhaps the best sign that the film works is that one would love to see Park and Kang crack more cases, and villainous skulls, together.
(ST)
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