Tang Xiao Shi, Tang Xiao Shi, 1983
Tang Xiao Shi, Tang Xiao Shi, 1983
ranking: #94 on 1975-1993 list
Many Taiwanese songs in the wake of modern and campus folk adapted poetry to pop. Too many, if you ask me, as the trend wore thin and revealed the gimmickry of much of the movements’ pretensions. That Tang Xiao Shi’s self-titled album is made up completely of poems — and with a punny title which doubles as “Tang Knows Poetry” (唐曉詩) to boot — means we’re probably in store for more of the silly same.
But the album begins not with classical-sounding erhu to match the classical poetry, but with ambient noise followed by the crash of broken glass. “I’m drunk now, my love,” Tang begins, “in your glorious blaze of night.” A lone piano punctuates Tang’s husky loneliness. Suddenly, the poetry slips into atmosphere — into nightclub smoke and the empty tables that bring out the “Goodbye” (告別) of the song’s title. This isn’t poetry for poetry’s sake, but poetry which inspires new musical directions.
Credit producer and composer Lee Tai-hsiang (李泰祥) for making Tang Xiao Shi (唐曉詩專輯) a stirring listen from beginning to end. On “Yellow Mountain” (黃山), Lee manages to combine indigenous wails and background vocals with a running synthesizer line. The resulting chant channels the spirit of the past all while faces are directed resolutely into the future. “Little Wooden Clog” (小木屐) is the most bizarre of all: a music box intro, “whoots!” and “la-la-las” followed by “tee-tee-tahs!”, a funk bass, and various other screech and pop effects make for a toy-man creep-fest to remember. “Ye E’qiang’s Big Eyes” (葉額羌的大眼睛) takes that creepiness to the limit, with Tang yelping syncopated “heys!” in between Russian folk-type twists and choral quacks.
Credit Tang too for never getting overwhelmed by Lee’s more idiosyncratic moments. For instance, she stretches in all the right ways around and over Lee’s sinuous (and sometimes spunky) string fills on “Night of Goodbye” (分離的夜晚). What I like most about Tang’s voice is that unlike the angelic perfection of her female contemporaries, Tang isn’t afraid to strain, and in fact, that’s when her personality shines with a kind of husky attitude that reminds me of Stevie Nicks. Her strengths as a vocalist are most clear on the song’s duets, like “Goodbye” and “When You Love Me” (當你愛我時), where her grizzlier timbre contrasts with the syrupy, more operatic, and far more boring precision of her male partner.
That male partner, incidentally is Lee Tai-hsiang himself, who by 1983 was a celebrity producer, composer, and — why not? — singer. Tang Xiao Shi was still emerging as a talent, having won acclaim for her debut record Stomp (蹈). As the 1980s wore on, Tang never managed to clear the rest of the pop crop. As a result, Tang’s self-titled album stands alone in its musical fervor, a 1980s vision of worlds and sounds come crashing together, while Tang sits idly by, wailing into the night.
