It's obvious that Hsieh takes his voice practice seriously. Yet despite the skillful warm-up, he is no professional singer. In fact, Hsieh, 46, makes his living as a painter. As he launches into his first full song, an old Taiwanese love tune, he takes a cue from a large-screen television displaying the words along with a matching video, in this case showing a pair of lovers at their last oceanside rendezvous. Hsieh's emotion-charged voice - electronically improved by the time it emanates from the speaker - draws a round of cheers from friends gathered in the small room. He takes another swig from his glass, preparing for his next performance as a make-believe singing star.
Welcome to KTV, or karaoke television, the entertainment of choice for thousands of people in Taiwan. It may be the fantasy element, the chance to be with friends, or the fact that there simply aren't many other leisure activities available - no one can say quite why, but KTV has become an islandwide craze.
Karaoke, a term coined by the Japanese, is a combination of kara, which means "none" in Japanese, and a modification of orche, the initial letters of the word "orchestra," which the Japanese pronounce as "okay." Literally, the term means "an orchestra without instruments." In fact, it is a microphone hooked up to a tape or videocassette player. As a singer croons into the mike, the sound is mixed with the taped music. No matter how hoarse or off-key one's voice might be, it will emerge from the speaker sounding professional. Well, almost.
Karaoke (minus the video) first showed up in local coffee shops and restaurants in 1976 as an import from Japan. Soon it had swept the island, becoming immensely popular in both urban and rural areas. A second boom started in 1988, when the government began to boost enforcement of a ban against pirated videotapes. Many of the island's numerous MTV parlors, which rent videos for customers to watch in private rooms, were forced to stop showing pirated movies, a mainstay of their offerings. To stay in business, many added karaoke equipment and switched a letter on the signboard to become KTVs. And so, a new trend was born.
Today, there are 740 registered KTVs in Taipei, and more than 1,500 around the island. Counting unregistered establishments, the estimated total is about double. Many are poshly decorated, with private rooms in a variety of sizes, large screen TVs, and comfortable sofas. Patrons pick songs from a catalogue, then use a keyboard to enter the identification number for each song into a computerized system. Choices are available in Taiwanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, and English.
KTV patrons include people of all ages and occupations, from teenagers to retirees, house wives to business people. Even high-ranking government officials have been known to pick up a microphone and belt out a few songs. According to an industry survey, about 28 percent of the island's population visit KTV parlors frequently.
Prices vary according to the atmosphere, the equipment, and the service. At Cash Box, the island's largest KTV operator, with seven locations in Taipei, hourly rates range from NT$350 (US$13) for a five-person room to NT$550 (US$21) for a twenty-person room. An average visit for a mid-sized group lasts three to four hours. Each person must also pay a minimum of NT$100 to NT$200 for food or drinks. The price can be higher for patrons who hire hostesses to join the group. The biggest spenders are usually business people, often entertaining customers or trying to wrap up a deal. "KTVs are a good place to improve relations with clients," says Chen Yu-chen (陳玉珍), owner of a gift shop in Taoyuan. Chen frequently travels to Taipei on business and often winds up her trip by entertaining clients at a KTV.
Regular customers cite convenience and the relatively cheap price as big draws for KTVs. But what is more important, they say, is the chance to sing one's heart out in a private setting with friends or family. "It doesn't matter whether my friends and I are good singers - the point is we can relax and have fun," says Huang Pei-hui (黃佩蕙), a 27 -year-old secretary.
For Hsieh Chiang-sung, just about anytime is KTV time. "Sometimes I feel the need to let out my emotions," he says. "Whether I'm in a happy mood or a bad mood, it's good to go to a KTV with friends and spend the night singing." He recalls one memorable outing when he and several friends sang from six in the evening to six the next morning. "It was really crazy," Hsieh says. "I had a sore throat for three days."