Beasts from the East

>> ChthoniC stand up for their land with blasts of black metal and Taiwanese tales of terror

CELESTIAL AND THE BESTIAL: ChthoniC

By RUPERT BOTTENBERG

At a quick first glance, one could be forgiven for assuming black metallists ChthoniC to be a Scandinavian band. Their look is barbs and black leather, haunted-house hairdos, ghoulish facial “corpse paint” and a splash of gothic elegance. Their moniker is a Greek word related to the spirits of the underworld, their logo a spiky snarl, their music a marriage of rampaging riffs, lofty keyboard swells and guttural incantations—Dimmu Borgir is a common comparison among connoisseurs.

But look again. In every detail, ChthoniC have, since starting up in 1995, retooled the black-metal template to Taiwanese specifications—and leapt headfirst into choppy political waters in the process.

“Some Asian bands write about Viking stories, Satanism and vampires, and even consider themselves ‘true’ Viking metal bands or categorize themselves as ‘Nordic’ metal bands,” observes Freddy “Left Face of Maradou” Lin, founder and vocalist of ChthoniC, in an e-mail interview with the Mirror. “In my own opinion, it’s ridiculous.

“No doubt, I love all those stories, but it’s just natural that when I want to write something, I choose the stories that we Taiwanese have strong feeling with.”

There’s nothing mild about the narratives on ChthoniC’s albums. 2000’s 9th Empyrean unfurled the saga of a spirit war between aboriginal Taiwanese and Han Chinese spectres, while its ’02 follow-up Relentless Recurrence recounted the tale of the tortured ghost Na-Tao Ji, a cornerstone of Taiwanese mythology. In ChthoniC’s hands, even factual history assumes the dimensions of legend, as on 2005’s Seediq Bale, recalling the Japanese occupier’s genocidal crushing of a rebellious mountain tribe.

Ghost-baiting greasepaint

The Taiwanese take on metal motifs extends even to ChthoniC’s make-up. “During the first few years when I formed the band,” recalls Lin, “we just put on the same kind of make-up as Scandinavian black metal bands. But apparently, our facial features are different from Western people’s, and the scary make-up on their faces doesn’t look scary on ours. But one day I found out that several hundreds of years ago, the Taiwanese Taoists already developed a specific kind of make-up—not just to look scary, but also to let themselves be possessed by gods and ghosts.

“This kind of make-up is more fit to our music, since we are writing about the Taiwanese gods and ghosts, and also, it fits our faces.”

Their fans at home are in on the game. Lin says they may not go bonkers like American and European metalheads—“Asian fans are always polite and rational,” he notes with some disappointment—but, as witnessed on ChthoniC’s recent concert DVD A Decade on the Throne, they are given to chucking wads of “hell money” at the band.

“Taoism believes that after people die, they are still alive as a ghost or spirit,” explains Lin. “Hell money is used for worshipping them. ChthoniC’s music is about the tragic ghost stories, therefore these things became the extreme symbols that the audience use to show their ultimate devotion to ChthoniC’s music.”

Yet another Taiwanese touch is the inclusion of the hena, the traditional two-stringed violin also known as the erhu, not merely as a decoration but as an essential element of ChthoniC’s compositions.

“In 1997, while we were writing some critical parts of our songs, I insisted on using an alternative instrument which can best express sadness,” Lin says. “The hena is a common traditional instrument in Taiwan. What is special about it is its plaintive, sad tone.

“I don’t feel any challenges in writing music that mixes metal and Taiwanese principles, we just write songs naturally. Maybe it’s because I appreciate metal and old Taiwanese folk songs as well, and these different music styles are naturally mixed in my mind and heart. But we do have technical problems on the stage. The uniqueness of the hena comes from the resonation of snake’s skin and the wooden box, but it’s not as loud as the other electric rock instruments like guitar or drums.”

Seasoned soundmen know where this is going—“loud feedback noisy sound on the stage.” Lin states glumly, “We are still dealing with this kind of problem all the time.”

Taipei Rock City

Gruesome fables of ghosts and goblins might not be the most immediately obvious platform from which to construct an argument for national independence, but they’re as indicative as anything of Taiwan’s distinct demographic and cultural characteristics, and outsiders’ attempts at domination remain a constant theme.

“The classic Taiwanese stories are always with tragic endings,” says Lin. “I think it’s very unique, compared to the happy-ending Chinese stories and brave-adventuring Japanese stories.”

ChthoniC’s members are insistent that their primary goal is celebrating Taiwanese folklore, and rocking hard and true while they’re at it. “As a Taiwanese citizen,” says bassist Doris “Thunder Tears” Yeh, “it’s only natural that I should do something for my country. But my focus is always on the accomplishment of my music career.”

That focus, over the decade and change ChthoniC have been at it, has had surprising side effects. In that time, Taiwan’s tiny underground rock community has blossomed into a full-fledged industry, a process in which ChthoniC have been instrumental.

“We didn’t just play as a band,” says Lin, “but also put all our efforts on building up the rock scene. We organized concerts and festivals, ran venues to let the rock bands play there, worked with labels and distribution to introduce more metal and rock bands to Taiwanese music fans. There are many people in the rock and metal scene who appreciate and respect not just our music or political ideals, but also all our efforts put into this scene. And we appreciate their respect and support too.”

Any humility or evasion on the matter aside, Lin and his ChthoniC bandmates—hena player Su-nung “the Bloody String” Jhao and drummer Dani “Azathothian Hands” Wang fill out the line-up—rank among crusaders for Taiwanese nationalism. In 2003, they performed for 150,000 at a rally in front of the presidential office, demanding that the Republic of China tag be formally dropped in favour of Taiwan, and this year, ChthoniC co-organized a commemorative music festival called Spirit of Taiwan: With Justice We Cure This Nation.

Abroad, ChthoniC have become unofficial Taiwanese ambassadors—a position that leaves guitarist Jesse “the Infernal” Liu and keyboardist C.J. “Dispersed Fingers” Kao feeling “pressurized,” as they put it—and having hopped on the Ozzfest tour this year, they’ve been getting the message out far and wide.

Chinese whispers

The importance of the issue shouldn’t be understated. The little Pacific Rim island—colonized by the Portuguese and occupied by Japan before becoming the refuge of Chiang Kai-shek and the Kuomintang after Mao’s Communists kicked their asses on the mainland—may well be the flashpoint in a looming confrontation between China and the U.S., a clash to which the current mayhem in the Middle East is likely just the sweat act. China’s Communist party has staked no small part of its rep on eventually roping Taiwan into its political grasp, while Western powers want this original Asian Tiger, one of the post-war economic success stories, kept on the capitalist side of the ledger.

That’s why it’s of particular significance that they have a fan base brewing across the Taiwan Strait, Beijing’s big-brother machine be damned.

“Some of the fans,” says Lin, “support our message by saying, ‘We still have no democracy and freedom in China, we should fight for our rights like ChthoniC!’ But some other fans decide to ignore our message by saying, ‘I don’t care about their political ideals, please focus on their excellent music!’ We also found out that every time they post something on the net to support us, some Chinese nationalists would fight with them on the forums.”

ChthoniC may have much of the people on their side, the powers-that-be as well (their 2003 Best Band trophy at the prestigious Taiwan Golden Melodies Awards was presented by the president of Taiwan himself), but not everyone’s singing along. Lin is tactful in assessing the dissenters.

“I appreciate the democracy, freedom and human rights that we share in an independent Taiwan now. And I really don’t understand still almost 10 per cent of Taiwanese support reunification with the Communist and tyrannical China. But anyway, Taiwan is a country that supports freedom of speech, so I still respect their ideals.”

With Cradle of Filth and Skinless at
Metropolis tonight, Thursday, Sept. 20,
8 p.m., $33, all ages