Many of the sonic archetypes we associate with electronic music have long existed within
real-world power systems.

Hsieh-ho Power Plant, Taiwan’s only large-scale heavy-oil-fired power station, stands on the
northern coast as a vast machine of sound. Its first generating unit entered operation in 1977,
with all four units completed by 1985. During a period marked by petrochemical expansion,
export-driven industry, port development, and rapid urbanization, it became one of the key
sources powering northern Taiwan.

For generations of Keelung residents, the red warning lights atop its chimneys, the distant
low-frequency hum of its generators, and the presence of the plant alongside the fishing
harbor and the shores of Waimushan have all become part of the city’s collective memory.
Seen as a giant oscillator, Hsieh-ho’s voice emerges from the continuous flow of electricity:
the 60Hz hum of the grid, transformer resonance, and the vibration of high-voltage
equipment. It is shaped equally by boilers, turbines, cooling systems, exhaust fans, ocean
winds, waves, and the sounds of ships moving through the harbor.

Together, these layers form a slowly evolving industrial drone landscape. What many perceive
as background noise reveals itself as one of the earliest sonic foundations of electronic
music, a soundscape created by the enduring operation of Taiwan’s power grid, where
energy, industry, and place resonate as one.