Pius Cheung | South China Morning Post

HK Magazine: How did you become a marimba soloist?
Pius Cheung: Like most Asian families, I grew up playing piano since I was five, and I started playing the drums when I was nine. I wanted to be a rock drummer. That didn’t really work, but I happened to start studying percussion at the Hong Kong Academy of Performing Arts. During my undergraduate studies [in Canada], I trained as a well-rounded percussionist with a focus on orchestral percussion, but in the end I wanted to focus on one instrument. I wanted to be the best I could at one thing. The marimba came to be the natural choice. Because of my background as a pianist, I was the most comfortable with it. I still play percussion and I teach everything, but as a performer I focus mostly on the marimba.

HK: Is there a big difference between being a soloist and playing with an orchestra?
PC: I didn’t enjoy being in the back of the stage, I wanted to be in front. I have the utmost respect for orchestral percussion, but it’s a really different mentality of playing. [When it comes to orchestral music,] the conductor has got to speak through the orchestra, pretty much, but as a soloist I can go with my own judgment.

HK: Do you often adapt pieces for the marimba?
PC: Lots of percussionists adapt or arrange pieces. The marimba’s history is fairly short, in Western music especially. As a folk instrument it has a long history, but as a classical instrument it’s only been around for 60 to 100 years. The majority of its standard repertoire only came about 70 years ago, and it’s fairly limited, so a lot of us [marimba players] want to steal music from other instruments.

HK: How do you usually decide which pieces to adapt?
PC: There’s the logical side—I adapt pieces written for instruments similar to the marimba, like the piano, since it’s a keyboard instrument. TIn a more aesthetic sense, it depends on how much the [original] composer weighs on the specific instrument’s “color.” During Bach’s time everything was more free-fall—everyone played whatever on whatever. But as music developed, the idea of a virtuoso became more prominent, like with Chopin. Music started to weigh more on specific instrumental technique. Those pieces became harder to arrange for other instruments because they were so instrument-specific. Some pieces are easier to adapt and some aren’t, but on some level I always pick pieces that I love.

HK: Where do you usually get your inspirations from?
PC: Music or art doesn’t come from nowhere. The idea that God speaks right through me and the music is not true—inspiration always comes from somewhere, whether it’s other music, an event, a feeling, other people or specific incidents. Though the actual creative part is very lonely, inspiration comes from outside. I always tell my students to go out and live life, don’t just practice.

HK: How would you describe your approach to playing music?
PC: The ultimate goal is to get beyond the ink on page and the sound, to the true meaning of what the sound means, what emotions it evokes. The message behind the music is the ultimate goal. Most of us move on without ever getting there; I don’t think anyone actually gets at the true goal, except for God. And Mozart, perhaps. Asking what the meaning of music is is like asking about meaning of life—we can’t answer that question, but we all want to try.

HK: It sounds like you admire Mozart a lot!
PC: I respect Mozart best, though I don’t like Mozart. I fall asleep sometimes listening to his music. I love Rachmaninoff. I don’t respect him as much as Bach or Mozart, but he touches me the most. I cry when I listen to Rachmaninoff. Sometimes I cry when I listen to Mozart, but with Rachmaninoff it’s a guarantee.

Watch Cheung’s performance from March 23-24.

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