AMONG HIS entourage, conductor Christoph Eschenbach is known as the maestro - a word that comes loaded with connotations of genius and ego. People often imagine maestros as former child prodigies turned temperamental adults who pick at specks on their spotless tuxedos, scream at the new violin player when she plays a bad note, and demand that dressing rooms be redecorated with lavender-scented wallpaper. So, it comes as a pleasant surprise to walk into the penthouse of Tokyo's Okura Hotel and be faced with a diffident, even shy man who radiates not fussy irritability, but stillness. With his shaven head and large soulful eyes, the 65-year-old director of the Philadelphia Orchestra looks more like a monk than one of the world's most feted musical talents - an impression of modesty that's confirmed by those around him. 'He's amazing - not only as a musician but as a human being,' says pianist Lang Lang, who's touring with the orchestra in Asia. 'He's one of the world's leading musicians, but his communication with the orchestra is so humble and honest.' The monkish image of a man so dedicated to a single pursuit that he has no time for anything else is particularly apt for Eschenbach, who has never married. 'My family is my orchestra and my love is music,' he says. 'This is my life.' Despite a formidable musical pedigree that includes an early career as Germany's top pianist, decades of highly regarded recording work, and stints as musical director of the Houston Symphony Orchestra (1988-1999) and Orchestre de Paris (a post he still holds), Eschenbach's lack of airs and simple love of music are well known. 'The Houston Symphony has a well- deserved reputation over the years of being a difficult and fractious group,' one industry insider told the Philadelphia Enquirer after Eschenbach's appointment as director of the city's 100-year-old orchestra was announced in 2001. 'And to a person, they love Eschenbach. They have nothing but respect for the man.' Those who know the conductor - who'll be making his fourth trip to Hong Kong when the orchestra plays two concerts at the Cultural Centre on Tuesday and Wednesday - say the roots of his warm, self- effacing personality and of his entire musical philosophy lie in his tragic early childhood. It's something he acknowledges. 'My website shows the whole story of my life, which might be interesting to young people,' he says. 'They can see that the classical musician doesn't have to live in an ivory tower and that he's available and open to questioning.' Eschenbach's mother died giving birth to him in wartime Germany. Later, his father died on the Russian front. As the Third Reich disintegrated, the five-year-old, weakened from typhoid, lost his remaining close relatives after both his great-grandmother and grandmother died in the chaos. So great was the trauma of these formative years that Eschenbach was struck dumb for almost a year. But a guardian angel, in the shape of his cousin and musician Wallydore Eschenbach, nursed him back to health - with the help of a piano. 'I just had to make music,' says Eschenbach. 'It was the ideal way for me to express myself, to express things that were locked inside me. I was in danger of imploding, so I was so very happy to find music. And once you find this mechanism inside yourself you never lose it.' So began a love affair that's lasted almost six decades, through study of the piano, violin and viola in his teens, conducting at the Hamburg Conservatory and recording with the Berlin Philharmonic in the 1960s, to work with the Cleveland Symphony in the US and eventually Houston, and now Philadelphia, one of the Big Five US orchestras (along with Chicago, Cleveland, Boston and New York). Today, he's one of the most sought-after conductors on the planet, and it's his strongly emotional, almost primeval passion for music, rooted in the redemptive power he felt in his childhood that sets Eschenbach apart from his more cerebral contemporaries. 'I take music as an expression of human feelings - very simple feelings actually,' he once said. This approach, combined with a rich, full sound and a tremendous sensitivity to and appreciation for beauty, led one British critic to describe listening to him conducting as being like 'swimming upstream in a river of molten chocolate'. He's unapologetic about what he thinks is the healing power of music. 'Any art can help soothe people in troubled times, but music, which has no language barrier, is especially powerful: the immediate wave of sound that hits your skin, which is so different to literature. I experience it in youth orchestras, which mingle together young people aged 16-24 from 30 nations. They listen and respect each other, and this can be an Israeli and a Palestinian, or a Japanese and a Chinese. I know this is like a drop of water on a hot stone, but I believe in it. Art gives us a glimpse into the metaphysical.' But Eschenbach isn't content to rest with the classical beauty of Mozart and Bach. A fan of jazz and of difficult contemporary composers ('the only kind of music I don't really like is rock - too monotonous'), he spent much of his stint in Houston challenging and educating his audiences. 'The problem with new music is that it's too rarely played. People say, 'No [Austrian composer Arnold] Schoenberg, he's too difficult'. But if the same thing had happened with Beethoven, who was also considered difficult, people would now run away from him.' He says he believes his approach has been a success. 'I came to Houston when the economic situation was horrible because of the oil crisis. We had 40 per cent capacity. I said: 'We have to do something because I don't want to see [empty seats] any more.' But I had a good chemistry with the orchestra and we projected energy and excitement. 'We started a campaign that raised US$41 million and it was a success story. In the last years, the hall was full - even for Schoenberg, who's considered a devil.' Part of Eschenbach's mission in Houston, and now in Philadelphia, has been to tear down what he calls 'the invisible curtain' between performers and audience. He hates the formality and unspoken rules that have kept classical music the province of mainly elderly, middle-class listeners. 'It's the wrong understanding of listening to music to put it together with a suit,' he says. 'We need to work to change the dress of the orchestra. Why do they appear in the tailored suit of the 19th century?' When he took over the Philadelphia, he promised to shake things up, but acknowledges there's some way to go. 'I'm only at the end of my second season, but certainly we have done a lot already,' he says. 'I've made myself available to go out into under-privileged communities to talk to people and try to bring them into open rehearsals. 'And also we're the first of the Big Five American orchestras to sign a recording contract. We own the product and we can do what we want with it. That's shaking up the system. The technology isn't really ready for it yet, but it will be. And I absolutely support making music more widely available through the internet. We also have to find some way to deal with high ticket prices.' What should Hong Kong audiences expect? Some Tchaikovsky, Mozart and Mahler, interpreted by what Eschenbach calls 'this fantastic orchestra'. He's impressed with up-and-coming Chinese musicians. 'Lang Lang is just a phenomenal player and there are many others. Every year you see more Chinese musicians in the orchestras. I think it's because Chinese tuition is very good. The schools aren't very well equipped - they sometimes play on pianos that don't have all 88 keys, and violins that you can buy for US$7.50 in a supermarket. But the instruction is excellent. 'A lot of the teachers are from before the Cultural Revolution, when music was just erased. The place has so much incredible energy and I take energy from it. It's fascinating.' Philadelphia Orchestra, Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Concert Hall, Tue, Wed, 8pm, $200, $400, $600, $780, Urbtix. Inquiries: 2734 9009; Taipei National Concert Hall, Fri, Sat. For more information, go to www.christoph-eschenbach.com