Sometimes all you need is a way in. Sometimes all you need is a voice to lead you through. When one listens to Lily Lee, one thing is undeniable: her voice is tremendous. And hearing her run it through the full gamut of her range, as Lily would do on 1994’s 就這樣約定 (It’s A Deal), one can’t help but wonder where it was that everyone else lost sight of her talent.
Born Li Lifeng, Lily Lee was raised on one of Taiwan’s offshore islands, Liuqiu Island — a place more known for its beautiful coral beaches than anything else. Coming of age during Taiwan’s “campus folk song” boom, Lily, like many other aspiring singers of her generation, picked up an acoustic guitar and tried to translate her love of American folk and soft rock into gigs at local venues and appearances in various folk-singing competitions.
It was during one of those competitions that Lily got her first break. Showing off her impressive voice — seemingly inspired by English folk singers like Sandy Denny, Shirley Collins, and others — she won a contest held by the iconic Haishan Records. That win led to a record contract and helped her join the ranks of hugely popular Taiwanese singers like Teresa Teng and Fong Fei-fei (the “Hat Lady”), as well as future stars like Chyi Yu and Michelle Pan.
What’s remarkable about Lily Lee’s career is how often she strayed from any given path. Her debut came via 1981’s Trio, a compilation album with Wu Chu and Michelle Pan. Released on Rock Records & Tapes, it fit neatly within the Taiwanese campus folk song movement of the time. Yet, as popular as this record was with that crowd, Lily refused to sign on to do more of the same. On her next record, she reshaped and remolded herself into a more mercurial artist. Five years would pass before she felt ready to rekindle her music career and find her own voice as a singer.
1986’s 梳子與刮鬍刀 (Comb and Razor) reoriented her as a new kind of Taiwanese pop singer. Inspired by New Wave, electro-funk, and Japan’s technokayo, songs like its title track projected a certain androgynous, slippery allure. A fascinating record, Comb and Razor was a concept album divided between “masculine” (razor) and “feminine” (comb) sides. On this album, Lily’s voice and songwriting came into their own. Owning that deep, sonorous tone she’d be known for, she created songs that reflected both sides of her vision. Gone was the folky artist others hoped she would become.
Although a personal win and a critical triumph, her solo debut was largely ignored by Taiwanese audiences unaccustomed to her more cutting-edge, urbane sound. For two years, Lily regrouped to recoup the money she’d invested in its release. After the commercial failure of her debut, her next album — 1988’s 李麗芬的遊戲規則 (Lily Lee’s Playing Rules) — shifted toward a more mainstream synth-pop direction as she pursued a steadier career as a radio personality.
This brief foray into adult contemporary music, thankfully, ended with 1990’s Off-Tune Collection under her own name. It gave way to another period of reinvention, when Lily reintroduced herself as a soul diva on 1993’s 發現 (Discover), working with F/S favorite John “Johnny Bug” Chen. Together, they explored how to transform Mandopop with new ideas drawn from emerging forms of urban music.
On songs like “一往情深 (II)” (Devoted Love II), “美麗佳人” (Pretty Lady), and “暫時離開家的女子” (A Woman Set Free), Lily finally came into her own, with a sound tailor-made to her artistic vision. Sophisticated and soulful, full of swagger and sensuality, Discover in hindsight feels like the perfect seedbed for what would come next.
Building on the success of Discover, Lily once again worked with Johnny Bug Chen a year later to push the boundaries of dance-influenced Mandopop. 1994’s 就這樣約定 (It’s A Deal) was a carefully constructed blend of styles dominating the dancefloor — from techno to New Jack Swing to dancehall. Lily and Johnny took fragments of global ideas and transformed them for their own locale and language. Somehow, amidst all this cutting-edge dance music, they created “愛江山更愛美人 (Love the Country, But Love the Beauty More),” a song that took on a life of its own as a new form of patriotic Taiwanese pop.
You can sense what Lily was aiming for when you listen to the album’s opening track, “Lily 的心歌 (Lily’s Heart Song).” Brilliantly structured, it begins as a scan through the radio dial before settling on Lily’s voice — as if she’s searching for a frequency that fits her ideas and the music she’d rather hear. Landing on gorgeous mando-house rhythms, her voice simply speaks, guiding us and preparing us for the rest of the record. In a way, she’s urging us to take a load off — this is Lily in full control.
The playful nu-disco of “愛的路上我和你 (You and I on the Road of Love),” a reimagining of Van McCoy’s The Hustle, lets Lily the soul diva shine. The fiery, growling “我好餓 (I’m So Hungry)” is another standout — a sexy, hip-hop- and New Jack Swing–inflected bop. Ann Lewis’s “Goodbye My Love,” an early Japanese pop hit, is transformed on the title track “就這樣約定 (It’s A Deal)” into a lovely bit of lovers rock for Lily to sashay through. Even the more “normal” songs, like “一個人 (Being Alone)” and “煙花女 (Firework Girl),” radiate a certain maturity, unsmoothed by mid-tempo polish.
The album’s latter half surprises with quiet yet smoldering soul ballads like “愛我在今宵 (Love Me Tonight),” which allows listeners to luxuriate in Lily Lee’s phenomenal vocal phrasing and tone. Ditto for the Mariah Carey–like “再會吧 (Sayonara),” a full-throated kiss-off to some unnamed lover that sways between atmospheric R&B and lovelorn soul. Ballads like “她只是個孩子 (She’s Only a Child)” found their way into Taiwanese dramas, becoming quiet hits in their own right. And as bittersweet as it seems, in hindsight, the final track — the torch song “I Always Wanna Be Singing” — feels like an affirmation of her true passion, even as she would soon leave this creative outlet to pursue other paths.
In the end, one can’t help but wonder where she might have taken these ideas, if only others had realized just how well they landed back then.