Although his composing and keyboard wizardry is sometimes compared with Michael Oldfield or Japan's Kitaro, he belongs in a category all his own—one that creatively combines state-of-the-art electronic music with Chinese sensitivities.
Chen's music has not yet hit the international airwaves, but it is only a matter of time before the soaring melodies that characterize his work draw a broader admiring audience.
"The music comes to me as I fly," Chen Yang says. "Most of my ideas come while I'm driving fast, late at night. I'll speed off to a mountain or a beach, then park there. Sometimes I'll sleep in my car, and in my dreams I fly over the cities and look down at everything. That's when the music comes to me."
The critics agree, though in less picturesque imagery, saying that Chen seeks to penetrate the mysteries of time and space, while at the same time painting musical pictures that are unmistakably Chinese. His music is thus a unique blend of modern themes and Chinese tradition. As Chen says, his inspirational catalysts are "substance and movement. "
Listeners say they feel a "landscape" quality in many of Chen's best pieces. He is sometimes compared with Kitaro, the internationally-acclaimed Japanese electronic keyboard composer who produced "Silk Road," but the similarities are superficial. Chen's work is different, for his music exhibits little of the fleeting and ephemeral quality common in Kitaro's work. Chen's music is solid, practical, even material. He portrays mountains and valleys, and listeners somehow sense the scenes are in China.
While the "Chinese quality" of his music has helped make Chen popular locally, he is not particularly pleased with this assessment of his work. The categorization is too narrow. He specifically argues against this point of view in notes to his widely-acclaimed soundtrack for the motion picture Kuei Hua Hsiang, Osmanthus Alley), released in 1987. Even though the movie is based on a Hsiao Li-hung novel set in Taiwan a century ago during the Ching Dynasty, Chen did not try to replicate electronically musical themes of the period. He wrote: "I want to state categorically that this is not Chinese music, but something with its own sense of time, place, and mood."
But Chen does acknowledge cultural influences. "Music originates in life experiences," he says. "So you cannot artificially mix sounds together and create music. A melody is an expression of a way of life. Music comes from the way we live and work. I can't call my music Chinese, but it's definitely influenced by my life in Taiwan. I hope the difference can be sensed by the listener."
Composer Chen Yang—"I want to state categorically that this is not Chinese music, but something with its own sense of time, place, and mood."
Chen was born in Taipei in 1956, and began playing the piano at the age of five, receiving instruction from his mother. He also sang in the church choir to the accompaniment of his grandfather, who played the electric organ. By the time he entered high school, Chen was already playing his own compositions publicly. At 16, he entered the Western Music Department of the Chinese Culture University, where he studied piano and percussion under some of the island's best instructors. His first major public appearance was a critically-acclaimed piano performance of Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" during a 1974 concert.
Despite his success as a performing artist, Chen's primary interest remained in the areas of composing and arrangement. This orientation was suddenly stimulated further at the university. Someone had loaned the music department a Roland Jupiter-8 electronic synthesizer, and one day Chen sat down at its keyboard and started experimenting. Surprise, delight—"I had been writing for orchestras, and synthesizers didn't interest me," he recalls. "But I discovered they had real sound. The synthesized music didn't sound electronic—it sounded like orchestration." His life with synthesizers had begun.
After graduating in 1976, Chen turned to commercial recording using Moog synthesizers. He produced dozens of theme songs and melodies for television shows, and branched into the lucrative career of composing music for advertisements. At the same time, he began composing synthesized pop songs. One of his first efforts, "Kua Fu Chui Jih" (Kua Fu Chasing the Sun), won the Golden Tripod Award (Taiwan's equivalent of a Grammy) for Best Composition.
Chen continued recording easy-listening music, and released his first collection of original songs in 1978. The music won two Golden Tripod Awards, for Best Musician and Best Composer. He soon followed with two more collections: "Romantic Music 1," and "Romantic Music 2."
A decade later, in 1987, Chen had released his fifth album, entitled "Ssu Chi Sung" (Contemporary Four Seasons). This eloquent work proved conclusively that he could produce modern yet unquestionably "Chinese" melodies using the synthesizer. "Contemporary Four Seasons" was entirely composed and recorded on an Emu-2 synthesizer and Chen's own Voyager-8, the only synthesizer of its kind on the island. Critics raved about the album, saying it "combined youthful vitality with a mature and sensitive understanding of life and the physical world."
The biggest success of the year, however, was his soundtrack for Osmanthus Alley. He used a minimalist arrangement with synthesized Chinese instruments to match musically the 80 years of the protagonist's life. The "Osmanthus Alley" soundtrack album enjoyed highly popular sales, and helped Chen win a Golden Horse Award (Taiwan's Academy Award) and his fifth Golden Tripod Award.
Today, Chen continues to produce musical scores for television, films, and the stage. His accomplishments now include nine motion picture soundtracks, two of which have won Golden Horse Awards for Best Film Soundtrack of the Year. On the more commercial side of the ledger, Chen still composes music for television and advertising, and laughs at accusations of artistic betrayal.
"Of course commercial music in Taiwan leaves much to be desired," he says. "But why should that bother me? Advertisers need it and I provide it, that's all. It's not really a waste, because it can be a way to reach people. It's my job and I make my living at it. My serious music is another category altogether, and that is where I will command whatever respect I deserve."
This low-key attitude is reflected in Chen's lifestyle. He prefers to live unobtrusively with his wife and young daughter in Peitou, just north of Taipei. "Making music is my life, just like eating and sleeping," he explains. "My creativity does not spring from great aspirations. It's simply what I do. Future generations will have to judge its merits."
Whether or not these future generations will include music lovers abroad remains to be seen. Although Chen travels to New York or Los Angeles every year to remain up-to-date in technical knowledge, he has not yet recorded on a foreign label. He shrugs off the lack of international recognition. "I'm just trying to live my life-a big responsibility all by itself," he says. "Everyone must face themselves first. The public comes second. Recognition from the public is not a big issue in my life. Of course I want people abroad to know me, but that's not why I write. I make music because I enjoy it."
His low profile has given him the advantage of personal privacy, even though the local music industry usually insists on gaudy publicity for its popular stars. Chen can still travel around the island without being pestered by fans. "I admire the patience and tenacity of the big stars," he says. "They've had to invest every part of their lives in their careers. They give up their right to privacy and put up with a society that pries into their most intimate activities. I won't tolerate that, it's not worth it. My work and my life must remain separate."
That creative life has taken some new directions recently. "Ching Chieh Ching Chieh" (Complex/Emotion), his most recent album, was released in January this year and is perhaps his most esoteric and avant-garde effort to date. He conceived the work when he was writing the musical score for the stage play The Search for Kwan Han Ching's Three Women. One cut, entitled "Chen Shuei Ti Yu Yen" (A Deep Dream's Premonition), features primal screams in the background—enough to grab listeners' sensibilities and give them a good shaking. Every element of the new work illustrates major steps away from the solid, landscape-like effects found in his earlier music.
'''Complex/Emotion' cuts deeper than my previous music," he explains. "When I was working on Three Women, I suddenly realized that when I listen to people talk, my sense of time often changes and I experience déjà vu. The power of music can do the same thing, and this was the starting point for my album. For the next two years I want to continue exploring this new area. I don't know where the path will lead, but I'll follow the signs. That has always worked best for me." The chances are that the path will eventually lead to international recognition and popularity.