ON WEDNESDAY evening, Hong Kong's super-tenor Warren Mok will be taking part in a charity concert titled A Viennese Celebration at the Academy for Performing Arts. The money raised will benefit the Wishing Well Foundation and ... 'No, it's for Make-A-Wish,' announced Mok. It's the Wishing Well Foundation, I said (which it is). 'Make-A-Wish,' replied Mok firmly. 'I have some friends on the ladies' committee and they asked me and I said, 'Sure!' It's very high-class, the APA, very nice, eh? I'm singing for them for a cut-fee, not for free, you know. Many charities ask and the way I look at it, I'm a professional, I need this kind of income to live. Sure I'll do it, but for a cut-fee - no problem. I'm not like those pop singers who make $300,000 cutting ribbons in restaurants.' As it happens, we were sitting in a restaurant as he said this, in Macau, where Mok is appearing at the International Music Festival, which finishes tonight, with his performance of Verdi's Requiem. Because his morning rehearsal had run so late, the restaurant had been reluctant to serve us and had then tried to seat us by the door, but Mok wasn't having any of that nonsense. He has, when it suits him, a commanding air which, no doubt, derives from all those moments of high drama on stage. He also has a remarkable degree of self-awareness which, presumably, also comes with the territory. I had the feeling he wasn't exactly performing during this interview, but he could see how it might look from different angles: he never forgot he was 'on'. He was charming and responsive, and gave a perfect impression of accessibility. But whether that's the real Warren Mok, I have no idea. In any case, he was keen to schedule the progress of our conversation. 'Forget about the past,' he cried, when I tried a couple of warm-up questions about his background. 'People know all about that, it's boring for them. There are many things to talk about, I love to talk, it's fun, and the South China Morning Post is very important in Asia.' So we discussed September's US$20 million (HK$154 million) production of Turandot in the Forbidden City, conducted by Zubin Mehta. 'They didn't have any local Chinese musicians. And visually, it was spectacular, but musically, it was a disaster. Sorry. Zubin Mehta, sorry, I don't think he's really that great at all. Sorry, it was a second-rate cast. The whole purpose was to make money and they failed, big-time. And that's good. This is not the right way to introduce opera to China. What I did in Shanghai was correct.' And that was ...? 'A big friend of mine, Bonko Chan, he's vice-president of an air-cargo company and he loves opera, he approached me one day and said that he had some money to put into culture. So I did Gounod's Romeo et Juliette and Carmen, as producer and singer, a tough job. Now they have experience and they're on the right track. I've just finished singing La Boheme in Beijing, it was a huge success. My mum called and said she saw me on TV. That is what we should do more of, we used a local orchestra and chorus, and leads from abroad. Then you can help lift people from their level.' At the risk of being boring - and solely for those who don't know Mok's background - this may be an appropriate juncture to point out that he was born in Beijing, the son of two doctors, moved to Hong Kong when he was six and went on to Hawaii when he was in his teens. (How old is he now? 'Thirty forever.') He always tells the story of how he went to see his first opera, La Boheme, in Hawaii at 16 - or 18, accounts vary - and was so thunderstruck that he decided on the spot to be an opera singer. I didn't really believe this though I agreed it made good copy. 'Well, I was infatuated by it, it was fabulous. I was singing in the church choir and this friend said I should sing for a professor and I got a scholarship to study music and - bang!' So it was easy? 'Sort of.' Isn't that unusual? 'Okay, yes, it was easy. As a Chinese singer I'm one of the lucky ones. In this world, there are still many prejudices. I have to be better with my face than a Caucasian guy, I have to work harder. For females it's easier, somehow - look at black singers, so many are black females. Think about it. I've done my research, talked with colleagues.' Is that still true? 'Of course, of course! At auditions - I still do some, I hate it, but I do it - they hire the other guy, but I'm better.' Still, he was quickly employed by a variety of opera companies, became a resident tenor with Deutsche Opera Berlin and then moved back to Hong Kong in 1994. Why? 'First, my family is here. Second, I was tired of living in Germany. And thirdly, I think Asia needs me. I saw that the economy was growing - those were the days, eh? - but that the culture was still behind. I thought it a duty for me to introduce the culture.' Family life now includes his son, aged two-and-a-half, and in contemplation of this responsibility, Mok mused, 'To raise a child needs a lot of energy, never mind money. It's a very, very long journey, oh boy.' The very, very long journey, however, is currently being made between performances. As Mok has just sung in London ('At the Royal Albert Hall, Turandot, that was the highlight of my career, you should write that down'), Berlin and China, how much of his son has he seen recently? 'Six hours in the last two months ... I know, terrible. It's part of my career. Horrible.' He pulled a face. Does he cry when he sings? 'Very much. That makes a good artist, it shows you have a heart. If you don't, then be an accountant - no offence to accountants. But you have to find the right balance when to cry.' So he can manipulate his emotions? 'Hmmm, good word. But I only manipulate myself, not other people.' I said I thought that was a smart reply and Mok said, 'I can say that I am smart. Most singers are dumb ... If you meet me, as you just did, you think I'm very cheerful and optimistic. But in fact, in private, I think a lot. I worry a lot - no, that's too strong, I have concerns. I'm a thinker. And I'm career-orientated and what I want from life is opera and opera.' fionnuala mchugh