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Taiwan’s vibrant pop and indie music scenes are known for creative freedom and self-expression. But for many artists eyeing success across the Taiwan Strait, that freedom comes with a price.
For two decades, Taiwanese musicians have sought fame in China’s vast market, where a larger audience and lucrative deals beckon. Yet, as Cardiff University lecturer Chen Yu-lin points out, these opportunities often come with a cost — and an expectation of silence.
“The documentary unpacks the stories of how contemporary Taiwanese musicians, when it comes to facing the Chinese market, have to make day-to-day decisions about how they present themselves, or if they can say certain things or not,” Chen said, discussing her film The Silent Sunrise, which explores music censorship and self-censorship among Taiwanese artists.
The film revisits the story of Island Sunrise, a song that became an anthem for Taiwan’s 2014 Sunflower Movement. Chen interviewed the song’s creators, the band Fire EX, along with other artists who described the pressures they face when navigating cross-strait politics.
“It’s very common — it is required for them to apply for approval to be playing music in different cities in China,” Chen said. “In that process, they would ask them to remove certain more controversial content on their social media platforms, including supporting Hong Kong, Taiwan and also same-sex marriage.”
That kind of vetting isn’t limited to performers. “A lot of the artists and industry workers that work more behind the scene — producers and session players that tour a lot in China — [face] the need to express certain types of national identities,” Chen said. Contracts often bind artists from expressing political views, she added, with financial penalties if they violate those terms.
Despite the risks, many still choose to perform in China, drawn by its established industry networks and higher pay. “A gig booked in China would pay more than one in Taiwan,” Chen said. “But I don’t think it’s necessarily just about the profit. Musicians know their music is listened to and liked by audiences in China, so sometimes they are willing to connect with them.”
Taiwan’s small domestic market compounds the challenge. “We are a very democratic country,” said Zoom In Zoom Out host Ting Yeh, “but because our market is relatively small, it means that we need to find a way for our artists to make a living.”
Chen believes Taiwan’s government has a role in expanding international opportunities. “I definitely think the government and policy makers have a role to play in bringing Taiwanese music to the international markets,” she said, citing efforts to send musicians to global festivals like South by Southwest and Glastonbury. Still, she warned, Taiwan lacks a robust infrastructure to export music sustainably.
For Chen, creative freedom isn’t optional — it’s essential. “Art should be the first place where many difficult questions are raised,” she said. “Creative freedom and artistic freedom for me is not a luxury. It should be a foundation for a society to be open.”
While her students in the U.K. know little about Taiwan’s music scene, Chen hopes her work helps them understand how politics, history, and art intertwine. “There is just not a lot that they know about Taiwanese music,” she said. “Although some have heard of bands like Chthonic and Sunset Rollercoaster.”
In Taiwan, where music has long been both a mirror and a voice for its people, that dialogue — and the freedom to sustain it — remains vital.
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