The winds of typhoon Kong-rey howled through the streets of the Taiwanese capital, Taipei, on Thursday afternoon. Meanwhile, inside a brick and glass building people similarly wailed down the corridors of a branch of the Partyworld karaoke chain.
Through the poorly soundproofed door of one room voices warbled a song by the Taiwanese rock band Mayday, and through another came the sounds of a song by Coldplay. In room 330, someone made an exasperated search through the song list – “where is Kylie? What the hell! ” – as friends screamed lyrics from a Linkin Park track.
In the street the winds that would later bring down thousands of trees grew stronger, driven by the typhoon’s central vortex hundreds of miles to the south. But the treacherous weather did not stop what has become a modern day tradition in Taiwan’s cities: typhoon karaoke.
Kong-rey was the largest-sized typhoon to hit Taiwan in decades when it made landfall on Thursday and wreaked havoc on the island’s south. County governments nationwide had announced a “typhoon day” late on Wednesday night, closing schools and most businesses for Thursday and giving people a day off, ostensibly to shelter at home.
But for city people without other commitments, a typhoon day has come to mean one thing: KTV, as karaoke is known in Taiwan. And the karaoke joints, which unlike most hospitality venues will stay open during a typhoon, often book out within minutes.
Taiwan loves to sing. Its cities have hundreds, if not thousands, of KTV options. There are hundreds of venues like those in the Partyworld chain, two-person karaoke booths in metro stations, and at least a couple of karaoke taxis driving around. In 2023, more than half of Taiwanese respondents told a survey they had been to KTV in the past year, according to Statista.
Jean, Mana, Jimmy and Sarah spent most of Thursday afternoon inside a room with other friends, eating drinking and singing their favourite songs. Jean, a lawyer, does not get many days off – few people do in Taiwan, where workers are entitled to a minimum of three annual leave days in their first year, rising progressively to 15 after five years in a job.
“Last night, maybe about 9pm, we decided to have KTV time today, because we just heard about the typhoon day off,” said Jean. “You have to spend quite a long time to find an available KTV room today.”
On Thursday afternoon staff at the Zhongxiao Dunhua branch of Partyworld rushed to keep up with endless orders for dumplings, beef noodle soup and beer for the dozens of fully booked rooms.
A-han, a waiter who has worked at Partyworld for three years, said: “People are more relaxed and they order much more food and alcohol because they’re supposed to be at work, but they aren’t today.” A-han says typhoon days are always packed and he is run off his feet. But his employers provide a meal and a taxi to and from home and, as a student, he is grateful for the work.
When typhoon days are declared, people are supposed to stay at home, but some recent “typhoon days” in Taiwan’s north have brought only mild weather, prompting accusations that local officials are chasing popularity. There is also concern that people in Taiwan may become complacent about the threat posed by typhoons.
Kong-rey was the real deal, as groups like Jean and her friends discovered when they left Partyworld on Thursday evening. As they descended the stairs and left the venue – some staggering a little – the warblers found that the weather had taken a dramatic turn, with fierce winds blowing debris dangerously along footpaths.
Additional reporting by Amy Hawkins and Chi-hui Lin
