Taipei’s B-Festival changes script, delivers classic event

台北B級音樂節更改劇本，演繹經典盛事

Venue addition accommodates an overflowing crowd, indie market emerges with band CDs and used clothing


TAIPEI (Taiwan News) — For city dwellers, a 30-hour music marathon can be a grueling slog, and the final few hours of B-Festival were taking a toll on the audience.

At the downstairs venue which hosted opening night, wholesale changes had been made. First of all, an indoor bar had been abandoned and a bouncer was rudely enforcing a “no drinks inside policy”.

It was unclear if spillage, vomit, or overcapacity had led to the rule change.

The policy didn’t seem to affect 30-year-old Philip, who rested his mini bottles of whisky and tequila on a wooden railing just outside the doors of UUMouth, adjacent to the lockers. He was happy to be seated on a bar stool and had no intention of going inside.

A crowd had rushed into the venue to singalong to a popular Chinese-language song. Phillip was also singing along but couldn’t remember the name of the band or the song. However, he knew the song was about personal freedom and going for it, or as he put it, "just doing something straight like what you feel.”

Philip sported black fingernail polish, a shawl, and colorful loosefit pants, clearly not following any particular fashion trend.

The bar inside the UUMouth venue had been relocated outside, and an inflatable pool had been set up to cool cans of Corona. A blaring DJ station had also been erected, making simple conversation near the bar difficult.

Nearby, a makeshift market had also erupted. A pile of second-hand clothing spilled out of a cardboard box, and one table sold anime books and videos, while another table sold band merchandise such as socks and a neck towel set emblazoned with the logo of Korean band, Smoking Duck. Tie-dyed t-shirts and bags were also available.

Festival organizer, A-Chang (阿強) rummaged behind the bar to find a bottle of Johnny Walker Red for the Korean band. He was glassy eyed, and the festival had taken a toll on him as he strategized how to remain alert enough to take the stage at 10:30 p.m.

Fatigue and general inebriation had gotten the best of many festival-goers, who were no longer seated nor upright, with some lying prostrate on the tiles. One goth couple dressed in black with masks preferred to be petulant, finding a quiet corner near the elevator where they sat silently.

Upstairs, the festival opened a new musical venue, Corner Max, a cavernous streetside venue that seemed inappropriately named. Previously, the space had housed Dozo Izakaya, which was also a strange fit. Many delighted in the upgraded sound system, the scented air-conditioned environment, and a world-class sound system befitting golden oldies performers.

Of course, the luxury toilets were also appreciated. “I’ve never seen such clean toilets,” commented one festivalgoer, later commenting, “there are mirrors everywhere.”

The upstairs venue didn't have the same drink prohibition, though it offered a strange selection of red wine in a can (white wine was sold out) and tiny shots of Grant’s whisky.

One person offered a free spray from his automated hand sanitizer which had been loaded with whisky and whisbih. With only a few more bands scheduled to perform, it was all about sharing at this point.

Taipei’s No-Nonsense Collective (無妄合作社) took the stage and inspired periodic bits of crowd surfing, stage diving, and slowly emerging circle mosh pit. Many also sang along to the music.

Afterwards, No-Nonsense Collective guitarist and front-man Wayne Kuo (郭力瑋) said, “I always hang around after gigs. Music is about people and sharing, that is why I perform."

He added creating original music is important for him. "If a band member thinks one of his guitar riffs sounds like someone else, like Lynyrd Skynyrd, I will immediately change it."

As festival headliner 88Balaz took the stage, the stage backdrop finally activated and projected what appeared to be random 3D images, followed by a clip from a Chinese cooking show demonstrating the preparation of Kong Pau chicken.

The effect was startling and confusing, a strange juxtaposition that could only have been conjured at B-Festival.

And back on the street, a few people didn't seem fazed that a concert was going on, they were tuned into an anime cartoon that was playing on a tablet which had been propped up on a cardboard box and surrounded by fairy lights.