Songs in the Key of Life--Lee Tai-hsiang

Compared with ten or 20 years ago, when Lee was at the peak of his popularity, in recent years he has certainly been much more out of the public eye as he has struggled with the relentless disease that has him in its grip. He is much more frail, his wild hair is now white, and he is ten kilograms thinner. But his determination and belief in music have never waned. In fact, the struggle against disease has given him a new outlook on life, unexpectedly opening new territory for creativity. As he optimistically avers: "In life you don't always reap what you sow; sometimes you get a harvest you never anticipated."

(right) This is one of Lee's early works. The elegant, light melody sounds fresh and touching even today. (courtesy of Jingo Records)

A journey of thanksgiving

"When I was younger I was under too much pressure-I was always torn between classical and popular music, between practical realities and my ideals, and all that was very mentally draining. I no longer have these problems, and I can freely create the kinds of music I want to create." This explains how in recent years Lee has been able to come out with a series of large-scale conceptually integrated works. As for the pain of his illness, he says, without giving it a second thought, "We've already reached an arrangement of peaceful coexistence, and it can't stop me from doing what I want to do!"

Last year alone, Lee undertook a ten-concert tour across Taiwan, doing shows he entitled "Lee Tai-hsiang's Thanksgiving Concerts." When he had free time, he went into urban neighborhoods and rural towns, hoping to bring the sounds of his music to every corner of the island. This year he's reaching out toward Europe and North America, and he expects to do some large concerts overseas this fall.

When not performing, Lee tries to make the most of every minute, throwing himself into the writing of new pieces and the re-working of old ones that still do not meet his high standards. Most recently he has completed a new symphony based on an Amis Aboriginal myth, which is expected to be performed at the National Concert Hall toward the end of this year.

As for why he has chosen to revise many older pieces, he explains that when he was younger there were still many things he did not fully understand, and it was not very wise of him to just figure he could go out and compose as if he knew exactly what he was doing. "It is only now," he says "when my thinking has matured somewhat, that I realize that I have a lot of room for improvement." While his tone of voice is casual, his attitude is sincere and serious.

Bring it on!

You can see traces of Lee's dedication to perfection throughout his career. In 1994, the fifth year after the diagnosis of Parkinson's disease, Lee's friends were saying he should slow down and work less. But in that year he accepted an invitation from Jingo Records to oversee an enormous project covering Chinese and Taiwanese musical history, the first project of its kind, a 12-CD set entitled Chinese Symphonic Century. Lee and three other top composers worked together for more than three years to complete the scores for instrumental versions of 144 representative Chinese, Taiwanese, and minority peoples' folk and popular songs arranged for classical orchestra.

But this was the easy part-then came the even more demanding task of recording these compositions. For that, sparing no effort to get the best possible results, Lee and the other three arrangers traveled to frosty Moscow, Beijing, and Shanghai to do digital recordings in cooperation with some of the finest classical musical organizations in Russia and the PRC.

Jingo Records general manager Dirk Chang recalls that at first he asked himself whether it was not too much to ask of Lee to take on this enormous project, considering the man's poor health. Nonetheless, Lee was the one he really wanted to do the job. Dirk Chang says that it was only after meeting with Lee several times that he discovered that his worries were groundless, because at that time Lee was at the peak of his powers in terms of his overall thinking, his creative abilities, and his technical maturity. When you add the great care with which the project was undertaken from start to finish, it is no surprise that this collection of classicized folk music has sold very well both in Taiwan and abroad.

Lee has his own take on this experience. He says that he is not a very special person, and it has not been his fate for things to always go smoothly. His only option has been to keep working, keep experimenting, and keep struggling until eventually he overcomes the obstacles. Whatever success he has enjoyed has always been acquired in this way. A safe, stable environment with nothing that needs doing in fact makes Lee nervous and scatter-brained; it is only when he faces an uphill battle that he can really focus and get things done.

Sentimental loner

Lee, born in 1939 in the Aboriginal village of Malan in Taitung County, has always given people the impression of being a little standoffish, a feeling one still gets despite the tortures inflicted by his illness. On the other hand, he admits that he lacks confidence, generally going along with whatever other people say, and assuming that he knows nothing and does nothing well. Sometimes even a look from a stranger, which is really of no particular significance, will make him self-conscious, causing him to wonder if the other person is thinking something critical.

Lee says that as a child he was something of a misfit. If the teacher called out to the students to turn left, he would somehow miss the signal and keep walking straight. As a result, he was often punished by teachers, who thought he was slow and would never amount to much. He was held back twice in first grade, and up until fifth grade he failed virtually all of his exams, filling the exam papers with drawings and doodles. But in fifth grade, his teacher discovered that this "problem student" could draw powerful and intriguing pictures. The teacher signed Lee up for a province-wide primary-school drawing competition in which, incredibly, he won a prize. This prize seemed to set free the previously locked-up spirit of this small Aboriginal child.

It is not always known among music fans that Lee is of the Amis Aboriginal people, and he himself rarely talks about the past or his Amis ancestry. His father was one of the few Aboriginal people of his generation to receive an advanced education, and during the Japanese occupation era, he was a very successful insurance salesman, allowing the family to live very comfortably. During WWII, when Lee was just five, they moved to Taipei.

Lee's father, an accomplished violinist, perhaps tired of the pressure and prejudice that went with the stereotype of Aboriginal people as backward and lazy, endeavored to raise his children to beat the Chinese at their own game, and had very high expectations. However, when Lee was in middle school, his father's business collapsed, and the family lost its ability to support him.

The plaster-of-Paris man

While studying in Taipei Mandarin Experimental Primary School, Lee was the only Aboriginal child in the entire institution. Because his grades were not very good and he seemed a slow learner, in addition to his different background, his classmates often bullied him and beat him, and it was not unusual for him to be covered in bruises.

Luckily for him, Lee won numerous honors through his artistic skills, and for a time he did nothing at school but paint and draw, which provided him with a space of his own. He also excelled in music, and his father sold the family hunting rifle and gave the money to Lee to buy a violin. Over time, Lee began to understand how the other kids did things, and his school grades did improve, going from zero to 60 or 70. Nonetheless, although after junior high he tested into Wenshan High School and remained academically competent, the grades in his other classes remained far below those in art and music. Oddly, despite his innate artistic abilities, Lee never imagined that one day he could make a career out of them.

Lee's school days left him with at least one strong characteristic: perseverance. He told the following moving story once when he was interviewed on television.

When he was in art class in junior high school, the teacher brought out a plaster-of-Paris statue for the students to draw. "I was drawing very intently, but I couldn't help thinking how strange it was-why would this well shaped plaster-of-Paris man be lying on the ground? He looked like he had been knocked over, just like me when I was small and was often held against the ground while being beaten. The teacher said to me, although the plaster-of-Paris man has been knocked down, he does not give in, and even though he may be lying on the ground, he does not run away and he does not surrender, but draws through his hands that grip the ground the energy of nature itself, and continues to struggle on!" The deep impression made by this comment has remained with Lee always, giving him moral support throughout his life.

Cupid lends a hand

At age 16, Lee became a student of the violinist Chen Ching-kang, who had studied in Japan. Because Lee had worked out a lot of the basics and practiced on his own for many years, under Chen he progressed rapidly, and even when Lee ran out of money and could no longer pay his tuition, Chen was still willing to instruct him for free. This touched Lee deeply.

Eventually Lee tested into the Department of Fine Arts Printing at the National Junior College of the Arts. He thought that he would probably move in the direction of a career in visual arts, but his musical inclinations and instincts were always somehow finding ways to remind him of their presence. For instance, in his freshman year he easily won first prize in a violin competition. But the real reason he moved in the direction of music was probably that he had a crush on a female classmate of his, a girl with long flowing hair who also played violin well. Just to be near her, Lee transferred to the Department of Music, hoping he could win her over.

Though Lee is a self-confessed romantic, he has always been awkward and shy. Looking back, he recalls that he never dared to tell the girl his feelings, but tried to attract her attention with rebellious individualism or some impetuous improvised playing. Ultimately they did end up together, but sadly their marriage ended in failure.

When he was younger Lee was known for his fondness for the opposite sex and was often involved in scandals, and he admits that his feelings for women can overwhelm him like a rushing river. "I don't have those quiet and deep kinds of emotions, the ones that work slowly and steadily, so virtually every time things end badly. I don't really have any sweet memories, only bitter ones."

The composer enters

After graduating from college, Lee became first violinist with the Taipei Municipal Symphony Orchestra as well as the orchestra at Taiwan Television, and he also directed the Taiwan Provincial Symphony Orchestra. He began exploring composition as early as 21, working on his own without a teacher, relying entirely on his profound love of music. Over a ten-year period, he wrote many new pieces with a Chinese flavor by borrowing the essence of traditional music but adding a contemporary spirit, creating a modern form of Chinese music with a unique style. Sadly, no one at that time had the slightest idea that there was a modernist composer hard at work right here in Taiwan.

In 1973, Lee won scholarships from the Rockefeller Foundation and the US State Department to go to the United States, where he studied in various universities and schools of music. Only then did his fellow countrymen begin to take note of his outstanding abilities. One year later Lee returned, and after many productive years came to be seen as one of the most representative of the "middle generation" of composers in Taiwan at that time.

From his Aboriginal home to the bright lights of American metropolises, Lee Tai-hsiang has absorbed as much out of each different kind of musical soil as he can. As a result, his style is very eclectic and difficult to pigeonhole. From chamber music to opera, from romanticism to impressionism, all are part of the scenery in Lee's musical journeys.

Olive Tree dream

While continuing to work in the classical field, Lee also turned his attention to pop music. He couldn't stand the schmaltzy love tales that characterized Mandarin pop lyrics, and he always found the music itself excessively influenced by Japanese teeny-bopper styles. Thus he took his background in academic music and plunged headfirst into the vulgar world of pop, determined to refine the genre and bring it to a higher level.

This was the time that "campus folk music" was just beginning to sweep Taiwan, and Lee was right on time to get on board the train. Drawing on the elegant structures of classical music, he wrote "Olive Tree," a pop piece infused with tremendous artistry. As sung by Chi Yu, an artist known for her angelic voice, the song immediately made a huge impression both home and abroad, and is considered one of the genuine classics of the folk music era. Later on Lee and Chi Yu worked together on a number of other songs, developing even further this style that combined Lee's classical sensibilities with Chi's resonant, clear, spine-tingling vocals.

Aiming to push the pop envelope even further, Lee drew on the words of Taiwan's leading poets and of writers such as San Mao, producing a stream of works of musical poetry, which were performed by a number of his students and followers. This consolidated Lee's status as one of the dominant figures on the Mandarin music scene.

In 1993, a student group at National Taiwan University devoted a special issue of their group magazine to Taiwanese pop music history. They invited more than 200 people, including singers, music industry executives, disc jockeys, and cultural figures, to choose the best albums of the previous 15 years in Taiwan. Since this was the first attempt in cultural circles in Taiwan to evaluate local pop music history, the survey was taken very seriously.

One result, though not entirely unexpected, was that Lee Tai-hsiang claimed three of the top 100 albums of that period, with Olive Tree, You Are All My Memories, and The Tang Hsiao-shih Album finishing 3rd, 37th, and 94th respectively.

A life of love and music

In 1988, Lee took a trip around the world, relaxing and enjoying himself to the fullest. But the joy was short-lived. After returning to Taiwan, he felt chronically unwell. At first he thought that maybe he was smoking too much, but even after he quit the cancer sticks his situation did not greatly improve, so he went to see a doctor. The doctor took one look at Lee's movements and told him that he had contracted Parkinson's. In fact, Lee had never even heard of the name, and at first thought it must be something like the flu. But the doctor told him that there is no cure for this disease at present, and moreover the withered brain cells would never recover, so the doctor advised Lee to be psychologically prepared.

Even as his situation worsened, Lee never panicked. He figured that with technology being what it is today, somebody would come up with a cure for Parkinson's disease sooner or later. Two years ago, in order that he could perform, he braved deep-brain (electroshock) stimulation. His condition improved somewhat after the treatment, which is how he was able to resurface and undertake his "Thanksgiving" tour last year.

Although Lee refuses to admit defeat, he confesses that his condition has taken its toll on his creative work. In the past, he could produce a polished work quickly, but today, with his memory slipping, sudden inspirations are quickly forgotten, and he gets much less done despite putting in much more effort. This is not to mention the physical problem of his arms and legs trembling continuously, so that actions that should be easy, such as using an eraser to amend a score, are extremely demanding for him. It happens quite often that he writes the wrong note, then erases a right one, and all he can do his grit his teeth and soldier on.

"Music is my life! No matter how much pain I am in or how difficult it gets, I will persist and will never give in!" Lee Tai-hsiang believes that people can only move forward if they have confidence. Being self-destructive or giving up on oneself is no different from a death sentence for the soul. Since falling ill, Lee has not only shown greater maturity in his compositions, but has come to understand much about life as well.

"Only love and music can bridge the gap between life and death, and give life meaning and value." This is a song of praise to life, spoken by a truly courageous person.