Dream Guy

October 3, 2000 The Straits Times

By Yeow Kai Chai


But Wang wants to be loved for his voice -- not looks
Wang Lee Hom was recently voted the No. 1 sexual fantasy of Taiwanese girls. But if he had his way, he would rather people focus on his singing than his looks. The American-born Chinese singer goes behind the cameras for a special fashion spread with Life!.


Asian Ambition

Wang Lee Hom is so serious about his image that he does not smile at Life!'s photo shoot. What about his love life? Sorry, folks, he's not telling.

WANG LEE HOM, at the ripe old age of 24, is a very serious multi-hyphenate: singer-composer-arranger.

Who cares if he was nominated Taiwanese girls' No. 1 sexual fantasy in an online poll in July?

During his press conference, the classically-trained musician reminds journalists, time and again, about his wide-ranging musical interests, from classical to rock to funk.

Any question about relationships and love scenes is deflected deftly with the polite insouciance of an intensely-private, but well-brought-up boy.

"What was it like kissing Karen Mok? Aren't you afraid of people talking?" a wide-eyed scribe asks, referring to Wang's 30-second smooch with the Hongkong wild girl in Ashes To Ashes, a new anti-smoking, educational short film directed by Leslie Cheung.

The milliseconds tick by, air charged with expectancy.

"You can't worry about all these things when you're an actor," comes his slick reply, accented by a wee, but oh-so-telling shrug.

A rocker with less patience and more swagger would have stood up and walked away, but not Wang.

The New Yorker is too level-headed to be bothered by inanities.

FACING this reporter after the press conference, Wang demonstrates utmost professionalism.

He should be beat from a jam-packed schedule which saw him attending the charity show Affairs Of The Heart on Sunday and undergoing a busy round of interviews to promote his seventh album, Forever's First Day. But he is not.

Well, at least not on the surface. Demonstrating nary a sign of frazzled nerves, he shakes your hand and begins talking about himself on the sofa, impervious to the clatter of minders nearby.

The 1.8-m-tall lad locks you with his gaze while offering resolutely cogent answers to your probing, sometimes hackneyed queries.

An unruffled, attentive interviewee: What more could one ask for?

So, first things first. What is his attitude towards the paparazzi?

"Well, I haven't had it so bad, I don't have that many negative reports," demurs Wang. "Maybe it's got to do with the fact that I don't really talk about my personal life with the press. I withhold information, though all they want to know is my love life. They want to know the dirt. But, sorry, it's not public knowledge."

In eloquent American-English, he spits it out plainly, mien unchanging, placid even. Not an iota of distress from this dude who says he inherits patience from his doctor Dad and librarian Mum, who migrated from Taiwan to America.

"Anyway, all the relationship issues are in my songs," he offers, directing the focus smartly back to his craft.

WANG, as is abundantly clear, is proud of his latest Mandarin magnum opus, Forever's First Day, which has so far sold a brisk 10,000 copies in Singapore since its release in late June.

In Taiwan, it sold a whopping 200,000 copies.

The album took more than a year to record. He composed and arranged all 11 songs while finishing his Masters at Berklee College of Music last year. Best of all, it fulfilled his ambition of revitalising formulaic Mandopop with classical and R&B touches.


Next year, he plans to cut an English album and embark on his first world tour.

This innate sense of duty and integrity to introduce musical variety into the Chinese music scene was inspired by an unforgettable experience.

As a 17-year-old lad, he first listened to a Mandarin album, which happened to be Andy Lau's Forgettable Waters. It was not fortuitous.

"That was years ago," he groans. "Well, I didn't mean to say that everything he did was boring. It just sounded like all the kelian (pitiful) ballads! It's nothing personal."

Today, his idea of revolutionalising Chinese pop is exemplified by a simply jaw-droppin' dance cover of Descendent Of The Dragon, originally a heart-thumping folk anthem by Li Jianfu.

It is a version which should silence purists for good, and which "bananas" (Westernised Asians) should embrace, especially for its slang twang.

Why did he cover that song?

"It's just great timing," he explains. "There are obvious coincidences. I'm a Dragon. Li Jianfu is my maternal uncle. It means a lot to me personally, as well to my family and extended family. We are very proud that he wrote the song."

He adds: "Also I recorded it in 2000, the Year of the Dragon, which marks the beginning of the new millennium for the rise of Asia."

FOR Wang, the second of three brothers, music has become a platform for him to assert his identity as a new cosmopolitan Asian.

His recent forays into moviedom, like Stanley Tong's mega-action thriller, China Strike Force, opposite Hongkong superstar Aaron Kwok, American rapper Coolio and Japanese actress Norika Fujiwara, is, well, "a sideline thing".

Music, on the other hand, affords him the greatest freedom to forge a new millennial vision.

"There are so many different types of Chinese now," he philosophises. "There's Australian Chinese, South-East Asian Chinese, New Zealand Chinese, American Chinese, Canadian Chinese. Being Chinese doesn't mean you have to wear a ma gua (traditional robe for men). You can be just like...me!"

One stares at the gleaming Star of David dangling from his neck and his nascent Elvis sideburns.

So, what about this supposed rivalry between him and fellow Asian-American singer David Tao?

Wang cannot wait to give his side of the story.

"It's all imagined competition, this talk that we snubbed each other," he says. "We're really good friends. He'll come over to my house in Boston, and I'll just pop by his house. In fact, part of this album was recorded at his house in Los Angeles.

"It's all soooo stupid. The press just put two separate pictures of us looking pissed off, together.

"So it looks like we're giving each other dirty looks."

You laugh, nervously. He does not smile. But neither does he look angry.

ACTION speaks louder than words indeed. So, how serious is Wang when it comes to his music career?

At the Life! photo-shoot, the guy is firm, sure of what he wants, while unfailingly polite at the same time.

Of the eight outfits chosen for him, he agrees to wear only three. The other outfits are his own.

He also tells the stylist that he is conscious about the image he wants to project, which is that of a serious composer and not just another teen-pop singer. Which is why he seldom smiled for the camera.

It may seem naive of Wang to think that serious musicians do not smile, but hey, the five-year showbiz pro should know the inner workings of the music scene and how image is pivotal.

At the same time, the dude is wary of the trappings of awards and accolades.

"While it's nice to receive awards, I am very critical about who is giving them to me," the muso avers.

"An award doesn't mean anything..." he checks himself, then continues. "Let me put it in a positive way, an award means a lot to me if it's given to me by somebody I respect. Otherwise, I just wouldn't attend the event."

Smart words. All eyes will be watching the awards shows you do attend, Lee Hom.