Each night, but especially on weekends, the scene is duplicated throughout the island, as teenagers and college students don the latest Japanese, European, and American fashions, then head for a spot to shake and gyrate to the rhythms of Madonna, Michael Jackson, Talking Heads, and other hot international heart (and ear) throbs.
The dance craze already well-established in the U.S., Japan, and Europe has finally hit Taiwan full force. But local youth cannot be blamed for their tardiness in experiencing the delights of disco. Until three years ago, government regulations banned any public dancing facilities on the grounds that they might become havens for prostitution, drug trafficking, and other illicit pursuits.
But government bans on activities popular with the public are notoriously difficult to enforce, and Taiwan proved no exception. Numerous underground discos and social dancing establishments operated in spite of the ban, and the occasional arrest of patrons and closing of illegal clubs did little to discourage continuing attempts to meet public demand for places to dance.
Echoing official restrictions, parents also discouraged the growing fad. Su Nei-ma, now in her 20s, vividly remembers her teenage years and her father's objections to discos. "He knew I wanted to go and that many of my friends went dancing, but he was afraid of the kinds of people I might meet there."
In spite of official and parental sanctions, Taiwan's dance industry continued to grow. The process was assisted by the shortage of legitimate alternatives, for public recreational facilities were simply inadequate to satisfy the large numbers of youth in urban areas. The government finally gave in to the pressure in 1986. Under the guise of promoting tourism, the first dance establishment license was issued to the Mandarin Hotel in Taipei. Its KISS disco opened shortly thereafter to huge crowds.
After KISS came a flood. Club owners all over Taiwan applied for licenses, and mod discotheques became the latest fad. In an effort to limit the number of clubs, and reduce the possibility of them becoming covers for criminal activity, the authorities erected substantial financial barriers. Club operators had to pay exorbitant fees, and anyone who decided to open a disco faced a tremendous financial gamble. The policy has worked and failed. In Taipei, for example, there is still a limited number of discos, despite a population approaching 3 million. While the authorities have succeeded, customers have to bear high prices and overcrowding during their nights on the dance floor.
A visit to the posh DAY and NIGHT disco in Taipei indicates that once patrons finally get in the door, they obviously think the wait in long lines and the heavy costs of admission and drinks are all worth it. The scene is cheerful mayhem. Chic couples in the latest threads compete for attention with each other and the disco's unique black and white decor. The crowds are pounded with the latest sounds blasting from a state-of-the-art sound system, designed to stimulate the soul while rattling the teeth. An English-speaking disc jockey fills the brief moments between songs with a rapid-fire hip monologue.
Fu Sheng-tsai, a frequent patron at DAY and NIGHT, comes "to hear the music" and because "it's a good place to bring a date." But he would like more variety to choose from. "There really needs to be many more places like this," he says.
In spite of the booming popularity of discos, as well as other establishments that have both disco and more placid forms of social dancing, demand still exceeds supply. Weekends are especially chaotic, and it is common to see long lines waiting outside most clubs.
High prices do not stem the tide. KISS has a US$15 cover charge that grants admission and one soft drink, but the policy does not prevent capacity crowds from filling the place every weekend. Peter Chie, who is the head disc jockey at KISS, obviously enjoys his work. "We reach our limit of 2,000 heads every Friday and Saturday—the energy level is unbelievable!" he says.
KISS owners knew what they were doing when they designed their club. It could compete for popularity in Los Angeles, Manhattan, London, or Tokyo. The disco has two tiers and a labyrinth of balconies and dance floors. Artificial fog drifts through the air over the dance floor, partially shrouding a small suspended spaceship that flies from corner to corner. Periodically, a wildly-dressed employee emerges to give away complimentary drink tickets or other prizes.
Kenny Pue, who is obviously more intrigued by a baseball game in progress on a large screen TV than he is by the spaceship, says there is much more to the disco scene than dancing. "I come here to meet foreigners and talk about Western ideas," he says. "Friday nights have mature crowds, but on Saturday nights there are too many people, and everyone is really young."
Chen Tung-cheng, a filmmaker, gives similar reasons: "I come to talk with Westerners." He adds that the high cover charge is worth it. "I'm not even paying for dancing. This is the only place in Taipei to meet and talk to anyone."
TOUCH disco is another "in spot" for the dance crowd. Here the patrons are younger than those at DAY and NIGHT or KISS, but just as numerous and no less enthusiastic. "The music is good, but I come here for the people," says a teenager clad in a mini skirt and low-cut blouse, clothes still fairly daring by Taiwan standards. "We have to spend our time in school uniforms all day, but here we can wear whatever we want. I like to see what people are really like."
Another girl fresh off the dance floor agrees with the energy level. "My favorite nights are when they have live bands. Everyone is dancing and shouting and loving it!"
Teens and college students are indeed loving the new and legal diversion. The growth in popularity of all forms of dancing since 1986 has proved no less than phenomenal, and the prospects are even brighter. The industry is still "a baby," according to KISS DJ Peter Chie. "Young people have the money and want the entertainment," he says. "The potential is unlimited."