Article by Lau Kuan
Wei
EMIL CHAU IS PROUD
OF HAVING ACHIEVED MANY THINGS, AMONG THEM:
- Tickets for his
2 concerts here in 1995 sold out in 2 days flat; when a third
was added, tickets were snapped up within a day (this scenario
could well repeat itself this year-the first 2shows sold out
long ago). That same year his album, Love Follows Us, sold
100,000 copies here, making it Singapore's best selling Chinese
pop album.
- In 1995, too,
he received the American Billboard Asian Artistic Execellence
Award.
- Friends, his latest
offering, has sold a whopping 2 million copies across Aisa.
- He can still dine
in relative peace despite 1, 2 and 3.
"We'll eat in the
same room as everyone else, thank you." We're at a busy seafood
restaurant in East Coast on a Sunday night, and Emil is digging
into his black pepper crab with relish. The other diners recognise
him, of course. Some take occasional sidelong glances (the ones
who try to ogle and look cool at the same time); others stare
blatantly, fascinated by the man's obvious appreciation of his
crustaceans; and a few summon enough courage to approach him
for an autograph, to whom he smiles apologetically and asks:
"Can i get back to you when I'm done eating?" But apart from
these minor distractions, dinner with Emil Chau is fairly mundane
affair.
Later, over cut
watermelon, he confides very matter-of-factly: "I don't think
other (popular) singers would be able to eat like this, you
know, without getting mobbed or having to reserve a VIP room."
As you ponder over this statement, he finishes the thought for
you, "But I don't sell any less albums than they do."
He did it his way.
If you're a wannabe making your first cautious steps into the
treacherous world of Chinese pop, you can consider severals
ways of making it big: There's the keep-'emguessing tack-cultivate
an aura of enigmatic charm people will hopefully find irresistible
(as in, "I wish I could figure out Faye Wong, but I'm glad,
I can't"). Or the approach favoured by many newcomers - "this
is the real me, take it or leave it" tack that belies the artfully
subtle image packaging by recording companies. (The epitome
being Nicholas Tse, of course.)
And then there's
the down to earth Emil Chau way. No sense of mystery, no in-your-face
attitude. In the style-over-substance realm of Chinese popular
culture where stars are manufactured rather than discovered,
Emil Chau's success is an industry idiosyncrasy. So he doesn't
have a face that turns your knees to jelly and he can't dance
to save his life. But what he does have is an endearingly self-deprecating
sense of humour, an infectious energy level and stage charisma
bar none.
A livewire on stage.
Emil the consummate performer is irrepressible, someone whose
spontaneous banter with his audience leaves them marvelling
at his easy self-assurance and enviable ability to ad lib. His
tendency to forget lyrics has become a running joke. But how
many stars not only charm the audience into forgiving his forgetfulness,
but to actually looking forwards to it at his concerts? Asked
once by a DJ how he would salvage the situation should he suffer
a memory lapse at the worst possible moment - right smack in
the throes of a heart-wrenching ballad - he quipped, " I guess
I'd have to break down and cry."
In his own subtle
way, he convinces us that his concert is a must-see. During
an unplugged concert organised by FM93.3 a few months ago, Emil
explained to a group of ardent fans: "Some songs must be heard
'live', where you can see the singer get into character." He
then proceeded to prove his point with a heartfelt rendition
of "Finally" complete with contorted expressions of pain. Two
teenagers in the front row looked like they were about to cry;
a middle-aged fan closed his eyes in reverent concentration....such
is the magnetism of Emil Chau.
Up close and riveting.
Though much has been said about his nondescript looks, it wouldn't
be hard to pick out Emil Chau in a crowded room. If the unmistakable
guffaw doesn't lead you to the man, then the prominent jaw which
widens to reveal a toothy grin will. A face that's benign without
being banal, it goes through a myriad of expressions as he records
an interview for an airline. Playful, contemplative, enthusiastic....You
see the interviewer's sedate facade dissipate when Emil pleads
in mock seriousness: "Can you make me sound younger, or at least
like Mel Gibson?" He turns a simple message about CD giveaways
into an impromptu comedt stint, and you realise what they mean
when they say there's no such things as boring annoucements....only
boring people.
Four hours and coiffeur
doth make a star. Everywhere Emil Chau goes, a quiet, strapping
young man with eyes perpetually shielded by Ray-Bans follows.
You'd be forgiven for thinking he's the bodyguard, but you find
out later the young man wields with expertise not a concealed
weapon, but a can of mousse. Somehow, it takes you a while to
reconcile the fact that the guy-next-door has a personal hairstylist,
but you think, he is a star, after all (who, apparently, has
"difficult hair").
If celebrity's star
power can be measured by how many hours his fans queue in line
to get that precious scrawl of a signature, Emil Chau probably
wouldn't fare too badly. Observing an autograph-signing session
at HMV, you can't decide who you feel sorrier for - Emil, who's
sweating profusely and diplomatically rejecting requests to
sign more than one CD sleeve per person, or the fans who queued
four hours to push their luck.
The happpiness of
instant noodles. For the past month, Emil has been going to
bed at 5am and waking up at noon to prepare for his concert
tour. When you ask him what his idea of normal life is, he replies:
"You know how parents are required to initial in a record book
to show you know how your kid is progressing in school? I'm
very proud to say that half the signatures in his book are mine,"
he smiles. "That, to me, is a sign of a normal life. In this
line, it's not something you can take for granted." And does
the boy get requests from classmates for Daddy's autographs?
"No, such an unfilial son - he doesn't help his father do any
publicity!" Emil has a song in his latest album, Friends, called
'The happiness of instant noodles', which he sums up his relationship
with his wife, Constance, whom he married when he was still
a struggling pub singer. "I may be able to buy her expensive
necklace now, but we still hang out with the same circle of
friends, go out to eat in the same places - nothing posh - so
no occasion for expensive jewellery." What then, would be an
ideal gift for Mrs Chau? "Flowers!" comes the unhesitating answer.
"No matter where I am, I'll call up the florist and send her
a bouquet - works every time," he says with a self-satisfied
smile.
The wedding banquet
(that almost didn't happen). For someone who is totally devoted
to his marriage, Emil Chau betrays no sign of regret when he
tells you that to this date, 10 years after tying the knot in
Taiwan, they haven't taken their wedding photo. "We were too
poor to afford it then," he shrugs. "But our friends did take
one of us in a German restaurant, where we had dinner that night,
he furrows his brow, trying to remember. "But it doesn't matter
anyway, love is more important." Aww....
"In fact, the night
before we registered our marriage, I was singing in the pub
and realised midway I only had $10 in my pocket. I couldn't
even afford something decent to wear for the big day." Luckily,
his boss bailed him out by lending him $100 to buy a formal
pair of pants.
And if not for the
fact that his wife is American, and "in America, the bride's
family pays for the banquet", they wouldn't have had one. ("But
I did pay for my air ticket, although they bought me the suit.")
So three months later in the United States, it was in a church,
in front of all her realtives, where he received his bride.
"It was almost like a warning - son, you better watch it now
that it's official!" he recalls, laughing at the memory.
Although Emil still
talks about his family constantly, he is more cautious about
taking them out with him to functions, following the Bai Xiaoyan
kidnap and murder case in Taiwan. Would he consider emigrating
to another country then? "No, Taiwan is where I realised my
dream of becoming a musician," the Hongkong-born, 37 years old
expresses earnestly. "Even my wife says she can't imagine living
in the US anymore. And I want my kids to be bilingual, I want
them to be able to appreciate Shakespeare and read the Dream
of the Red Chambers as well."
Later, in a moment
of quiet reflection, he shares his philosophy of life with you.
"I was once told this, and it makes perfect sense to me - "Men
are not destined to succeed or fail; it is their personalities
the determine that."You can't control fate, but you can shape
your personality."
And these aren't
empty words, either. Emil owes much of his sucess to his never
say die personality and his amazing ability to connect with
people. Here, after all, is someone who rose from a lowly production
assistant to bona fide superstar. A grey Mercedes Benz sits
in Emil's garage, bearing testimony to the camaraderie he shares
with the band members who tour with him. Reveals a close friend
and co-worker. "We bought it for him as a house-warming gift
'cos we knew he'd been admiring one for a long time. He prefers
to zip around in his jeep, but we felt it was an appropriate
gesture of our affection for him."
The concert If Emil
Chau's recent Taipei concert was anything to go by, then Singaporeans
should have a ball of time at the first leg of his world tour
kicking off this week. Yes, he did forget his lyrics, but only
once. And no, he did not engage in as much repartee as usual,
deeming it "more professional" to sing, not talk. Which is perhaps,
the show's main flaw - no one can work a crowd like Emil Chau.
An intimate superstar, if there ever was one, Emil turns his
concerts into two-and-a-half hour karaoke sessions where even
the most inhibited fans find themselves singing along and cheering
him on, waving their arms and shouting his name. The highlight
of the evening came when he did a medley of old and new tunes
from the '70s to the '90s. Behind him was a projection of images
tracing the significant moments in Taiwan's history - "that's
what pop music is all about; certain songs mark the milestones
in your life, and when you listen to them years later, the memories
of those events flood back." He must have touched a chord because
he actually had some people in tears. On his world tour, the
Taiwan backdrop will be replaced by images of global events
instead. Whether it's nostalgic indulgence or inhibition-shedding
sing-a-long you're looking for, it's unlikely you'll go home
untouched bu the magic that is Emil Chau.
Special thanks to
Jane See for submitting & writing up this article.
