Skyline

This recognition gives us a lot of confidence to keep pushing boundaries. Jazz fusion is not always the easiest genre to explain or market, especially in Asia, but this award tells us that music with strong musicianship, emotion, and cultural identity can still travel across borders.

It encourages us to be even more ambitious: to create music that is rooted in our country, but open to the world. In the future, we hope to continue blending different languages, rhythms, and musical traditions while keeping Skyline’s core spirit—urban, soulful, and improvisational.

I think it was the first time I truly felt the power of playing in a band. As a bassist, you are not always in the spotlight, but you are deeply connected to everyone—the drummer, the chords, the melody, the singer, and the audience.

There was a moment when I realized that music was not just about playing notes correctly. It was about creating a shared emotion in real time. That feeling of being part of something larger than yourself—that was when I knew music would always be an essential part of my life.

For City Voices, a lot of inspiration came from the city itself—late-night streets, traffic lights, convenience stores, cafés, conversations, loneliness, and the feeling of walking through Taipei at night.

Sometimes the most musical inspiration is not a melody, but a scene. A rainy street, a neon sign, or someone waiting alone at a midnight gas station can become a rhythm, a chord progression, or a lyric idea. We wanted the album to feel like different corners of a city turning into songs.

I don’t know if it’s quirky, but I tend to listen to a track from many different perspectives. First as a bassist, then as a producer, then as a listener who has never heard Skyline before.

Sometimes I will listen while walking around the city, because I want to know if the music still feels alive outside the studio. If a groove works while you are walking through real streets, then it probably has the right pulse.

It is probably both. The foundation is very carefully arranged — the structure, harmony, production, and vocal direction are all planned with great detail. But within that structure, we always leave room for improvisation and surprise.

That is the beauty of jazz fusion. It can be highly crafted, but it still needs to breathe. For Skyline, the ideal creative process is like a city: there is architecture, but there is also traffic, movement, spontaneity, and human emotion.

I hope people feel that jazz can be sophisticated but still emotionally accessible. It does not have to feel distant or academic. It can be warm, stylish, groovy, and deeply human.

With this album, we want listeners to feel like they are traveling through a modern Asian city at night—sometimes romantic, sometimes lonely, sometimes energetic, sometimes reflective. More than anything, we want them to feel connected.

One major risk was bringing vocal collaborations into our jazz-fusion world. We had a long history as an instrumental band, so inviting ten different singers into the album was both exciting and risky.

Each singer brought a different personality, genre background, and emotional color. We had to make sure the album still sounded like us while giving each voice enough space to shine. That decision completely expanded our musical language and helped us reach listeners who may not normally enter through the door of instrumental jazz.

There are many, but jazz-fusion artists such as Chick Corea, Herbie Hancock, Weather Report, and the great bass-driven music of Marcus Miller had a huge impact on me.

What attracted me was the combination of freedom and groove. The music could be technically brilliant, but it also had soul, rhythm, and imagination. That balance became very important to us: music that is skillful, but never loses its emotional center.

One important turning point was realizing that we should not simply imitate Western jazz-fusion traditions. We needed to create our own voice—one connected to Taiwan, to Mandarin pop culture, to Asian city life, and to our own musical memories.

That realization shaped everything that followed. It helped us move from being a band that plays jazz fusion to becoming a band that tells stories through jazz fusion. The album is probably the clearest expression of that direction so far.

The album is a bilingual urban jazz-fusion project that transforms the rhythm, emotion, and diversity of Taiwan’s contemporary city life into music for the world.

The most challenging part was balancing complexity and accessibility. Jazz fusion can be musically rich, but we also wanted the songs to be emotionally immediate and welcoming to a wider audience.

Working with ten different vocalists also required a lot of trust and communication. Every track had its own personality, but the album still needed to feel like one complete journey. We pushed through by constantly returning to the core idea: this album is about the voices of the city. Once we understood each song as a different "voice," the diversity became the strength of the project.

After the album, we are very interested in bringing this music to more international audiences through live performances, showcases, and collaborations. The album was designed with a bilingual and cross-cultural concept, so the next step is to let it travel.

Musically, I would love to explore more connections between jazz fusion, Asian urban pop, electronic textures, and cinematic storytelling. There is still a lot of space for jazz to evolve in the streaming era, especially when it meets contemporary voices and global rhythms.

If I could dream freely, collaborating with Herbie Hancock would be incredible. His music has always embraced the future while remaining deeply rooted in jazz.

The track would probably be a stylish, futuristic city groove—part jazz-fusion, part funk, part electronic, with a strong bassline, colorful harmonies, and room for improvisation. It would feel like Taipei, New York, and Tokyo meeting at midnight.

I would encourage musicians to see awards not only as competition, but as a way to document and share their work with a wider world. Submitting your music is also an act of belief—you are saying that your story deserves to be heard.

My advice is to be clear about what makes your music unique. Don’t only describe the genre; describe the vision, the journey, and the emotional world behind the work. Also, be patient. Recognition may not come immediately, but every serious step helps build your artistic identity.

Most importantly, create something honest. Awards can amplify your music, but the music itself must carry your truth.