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Winnie Chung

JACKY CHEUNG HOK-YAU walks into the dressing room in a white T-shirt and track pants with a towel around his neck, looking a little tired.

He has just been through rehearsals for the Radio Television Hong Kong (RTHK) annual music awards show. Later that night he will receive the Golden Needle Award, the equivalent of a lifetime achievement award recognising outstanding contribution to the music industry - an award usually given out to singers and musicians no longer active in the scene.

While it may seem like the 39-year-old Cheung has been around forever, he is not ready to throw in that blood, sweat and tear-drenched towel yet.

'That's the way this business is. People always think you've been around longer than you really have. To me, it just seems like five years ago that I became a singer,' he says.

Cheung has now been in the business for just over 15 years, during which he has released close to 50 albums, appeared in almost 60 movies and won more than 250 awards. It's little wonder that he looks tired.

In an industry which prizes youthful good looks more than vocal prowess, Cheung does seem to have defied the odds and with the big 40 coming up, life in the limelight is getting more difficult, he admits. However, you're not going to see the back of him for some time yet.

'I don't see my career as a career. I see it as a lifelong hobby,' says Cheung simply. 'If our lives spanned 80 years, 40 is just the halfway point. In actuality, I have achieved everything I had aimed for. For example, I had planned to get married and start a family and achieve a certain level of accomplishment in my career. I've established all that, but that's not a full stop. My wife is always asking me why I keep working like this and I thought about it. I realised that other than working to provide for my family, I actually do love what I am doing.' Cheung refuses to give up on the Canto-pop industry which he says is in a 'bad' way, even though he knows his use-by date as a singer may be fast approaching. At a recent awards ceremony for Commercial Radio, Cheung was heckled to 'pack up' as he went up to collect his award. While the media made a fuss of the comment, Cheung has shrugged it off.

'I'm not afraid of being outdated. You have to face reality, no one can stay at the top forever. If the industry and the market want to discard you and stamp you as outdated, there really is nothing you can do about it. You can't hold a gun to someone's head and force him or her to like you,' he says.

'Of course it's tough compared to the old days when I was up there [at the top]. But you can't keep living in the past; you have to see what lies ahead. Perhaps people would find it strange when I tell them I am looking more to quality than quantity. I can still improve as a singer.

'Just because the industry is sick, I don't have to be sick along with it. It's one of the reasons I have lasted so long. You have to have a fundamental faith in what you believe in. If not, what do you use as a standpoint? It's trendy now to cuss and swear, so does this mean I must do the same? I would not be able to accept myself behaving that way,' Cheung says.

Cheung took his first step into the fickle world of Canto-pop when he won the 18 Districts Singing Contest in 1984 with a rendition of Fatherland. His first two albums went multi-platinum and the road to success for 'the talented one' was reasonably smooth.

He was the first in the history of Canto-pop to an international award, named, in 1994, by Billboard as the most popular singer in Asia. For two consecutive years in 1995 and 1996, Cheung was also named the bestselling Asian artist of year at the World Music Awards in Monaco. To date he has sold more than five million albums and is the best-selling Chinese artist in Asia. In recent years, local awards ceremonies have lost much of their credibility with each radio and television station giving awards on different criteria or even just whims on the part of station executives.

Even singers such as Leon Lai Ming have given up and announced their withdrawal from local awards ceremonies. Cheung says he won't be going down that road.

'I appreciate the awards, even if I don't like the culture within which it is held,' he says. 'There isn't a systematic approach or consistent criteria to it. They don't serve as a benchmark for anything. But I don't want to say 'I don't want any more awards' just because I think the system is no good. It's part of sportsmanship.

'To be honest, I'm not that serious about these awards. If you don't win, you don't. I won't be unhappy just because I win fewer awards. The people who say I'm not happy are just projecting their own thoughts on to me.'

Part of the reason that he will keep throwing his name into the pot each year is that Cheung is still holding on to hope that Hong Kong can get its act together to finally come up with a more credible Grammy-style music awards ceremony. And when that day comes Cheung wants to have his chance to step on stage.

'It's one of my dreams. Whether or not I see it happen during my career is one thing, but what if I do? I don't want to say I am pulling out now and then rescind on my word later. I would never make this vow,' he says.

Cheung seems to have plenty to be happy about at the moment. After years of talking about it, the former Cathay Pacific clerk has finally released his debut English album, Touch Of Love, on which international artists such as Latin heart-throb Emmanuel, country singer Reba McEntire and Ronan Keating make guest appearances either as duet partners or songwriters.

'What this album is, that's the real me. I've really gone by instinct when it came to choosing the songs for the album,' says Cheung, who is working on plans for a second stage musical following the 1997 success of Snow. Wolf. Lake.

Cheung had creative control over Touch Of Love which was produced by his own company, Creator Mark. 'In the past, no matter how big a part I played in the production, I always had to compromise with the record company. Now the only compromise is between the market and me. This is more my baby,' says Cheung, who recently also wrote and sang the theme song to Jackie Chan's Lunar New Year movie, The Accidental Spy.

But the baby he is even more proud of is a six-month-old bundle of joy named Zoe Cheung Yiu-wa, Cheung's firstborn with wife, May Law Mei-mei. Evidence of that pride comes in the form of a tiny sticker of a chubby baby face stuck on the back of his mobile phone. Needless to say, the phone gets passed around a lot.

'She looks a little like me,' he says, although the general consensus is that Zoe looks more like Law, a former actress who married Cheung in 1996 after a decade-long courtship.

Fatherhood has added a little more responsibility to Cheung's life, although he seems more pleased with it than stressed out.

'There's a lot more to consider now although there haven't been drastic changes. My family has been playing a more important role in the past few years. The fact that I have stopped making movies is a sign of that. If it were not for my wife, I would not have slowed down,' he says.

'My mother always tells me you can tell by the results how much time and effort you have put into things. If you put more into your family life, your family will be better off. If you put more into your career, your career will be better. If you want both your family and your career to do well, you have to learn to balance your time and prioritise what you want or need to do.

'I love being on stage and performing. I love it when I see people enjoying my songs. It's a sense of satisfaction that even earning $10 million would not give me, and because of this I have to reach an agreement with my family to make sure I set aside enough time to spend with them.'

Like many parents in show business, Cheung is not really keen on his daughter following in his footsteps. 'I wouldn't suggest it, but if she insists, I wouldn't stop her,' he says.

'But I can tell her what she would face, what I have faced and how I overcame the obstacles. My role is to bring her up and teach her the right sense of judgment.

'I want her to be happy and to be a good person. I don't want her to be a scourge on society. A lot of Hong Kong people don't think it's their obligation to contribute to society.

'They live for themselves and they don't see that what they do affects other people. If everyone were that selfish, the whole community would break down,' he says.

As for himself, there is only one further goal that he has set himself. 'To be a better man,' Cheung croons to a Robbie Williams song.

'That covers so many aspects. Essentially it is to just be a better human being. Nothing can be perfect. You can always do something better. If you think something is perfect, something else will always turn up to make you change your mind. It will be a lifelong ambition for me.'



MAN WITH THE GOLDEN NEEDLE