Liu Xing: zither player extraordinaire

Liu Xing isn’t quite the interviewer’s dream subject. Charming, yet frustratingly non-committal in his answers, he makes you dance a delicate tango. Asking him about his music leads you into a game of 20 Questions – he refuses to tell you what it is directly, only what it is not. I’m speaking with the 47-year-old Chinese ruan (a plucked string instrument) performer and composer ahead of his appearance this month with the Singapore Chinese Orchestra, where he’s slated to play his famous ruan concerto ‘Reminiscences of Yunnan’.

Back in 1987, this shook up the conservative Chinese music community with its audacious use of Western music idioms and innovative use of the ruan. The first concerto ever written for the instrument, it propelled Liu to a meteoric fame worthy of his given name (xing means star in Chinese). An introduction to the ruan is in order, since even most Chinese aren’t familiar with it, says Liu. Essentially a round, four-stringed, fretted lute, the ruan is made of wood and played either with a pick or fingernails. ‘It’s one of the true Chinese instruments, and its origins can be traced to 2,000 years ago,’ he says.

'Those who displayed promise in performing arts were exempted from hard labour and enrolled in the propaganda machine'

Played in the Tang Dynasty, it was overshadowed by the pipa (another stringed Chinese instrument) and fell into disuse until the 1950s. The first Chinese orchestra was then being put together by China’s Central Broadcasting Station, and the lack of a tenor-range instrument led to the ancient ruan’s revival and gradual modification into the instrument that it is today. It has since grown to be an essential part of the Chinese orchestra. While the pipa and erhu (Chinese fiddle) instantly bring a Chinese connection to the listener’s ear, the neutral sound of the modern ruan allows music of different cultures – for example, Bach – to be played on it without sounding out of place.

Back when Liu first met the ruan, mastering technique was still in a nascent stage, and much of its repertoire was yet to be written. His association with the instrument was born of serendipity. The only son of his father, a percussionist, and his mother, a performing troupe artiste, Liu was born in Heilongjiang, along China’s border with the Soviet Union. As a child the family moved to his mother’s home province, Sichuan, when Sino-Russian relations soured in the ’60s and eventually spilled over into conflict.

The bloody Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) pushed him towards becoming a musician. A decree at the time made hard labour in the countryside mandatory for all young people upon reaching the age of 15. Those who displayed promise in the performing arts, however, were exempted and enrolled in the propaganda machine of Mao Zedong’s influential wife, Jiang Qing, an advantage that wasn’t lost on Liu’s mother. ‘On returning to Heilongjiang my mother found many children learning instruments, and quickly brought me back and started me on music lessons,’ Liu says.

As a 12-year-old, Liu was meant to have studied the violin, but a neighbour, Feng Shaoxian, turned out to be one of the great exponents of the yueqin – nicknamed the ‘moon guitar’ – whose performing techniques were similar to that of the ruan. Feng came up to him and asked: ‘Why are you learning that Western instrument? Come learn the yueqin with me.’ And so Liu’s life course was set. ‘He [Feng] had such a natural musical talent, and watching him perform was an inspiration,’ Liu says. ‘Also, he was one of the few musicians of the time who used the stave score rather than the numerical score, which gave me a great advantage when it came to composition.’ Four years later, Liu showed such talent at the instrument that he was enrolled in the prestigious Shanghai Music Conservatory. ‘It was a performing degree for the yueqin, but I grew interested in composition and enrolled also in that class.’

The restless Liu, however, quickly grew bored. ‘I failed all four composition classes that I took, because I didn’t think there was a necessity to study them,’ he says. Without a hint of arrogance, he declares that success in composition is largely a matter of talent rather than something you can learn. But failing his classes did not quash the allure of composition. Instead he spent his time improvising on the lower-pitched zhongruan in search of new ways of expression. One of Liu’s favourite pastimes then was hiding in the studio, spending hours listening to records – in particular Igor Stravinsky, whose ‘Rite of Spring’ he admired. The angular rhythms of the great Russian are not to be found, though, in Liu Xing’s tuneful and accessible works. Audiences will be able to judge this for themselves as they get to hear two important pieces from his canon – ‘Reminiscences of Yunnan’ and ‘The Return’ – at the Esplanade Concert Hall.

Dedicated to his future wife and written in three movements, ‘Reminiscences…’ opens with a minimalistinfluenced motif for the ruan in a freeform, rhapsodic first movement. Leaping chords, syncopation, fresh harmonies and guitar-like techniques abound, while wind instruments chatter in a brilliant, Ravelian tapestry. The second movement is relaxed and conversational, the helter-skelter finale brilliant, reminiscent of scintillating bluegrass banjo in its virtuosity.

The laconic Liu Xing refuses to analyse his works, but what’s his music like? ‘That’s for music theorists to judge, and then only if they think there’s anything worth analysing. Composers write their music based on the spur of the moment, their feelings at that time. All I know is that “Reminiscences…” is different from both traditional Chinese music and the usual Western concerto. I won’t comment on the style of the piece.’ Pressed, Liu admits that its title came as something of an afterthought, tagged on after he noted thematic similarities between the Yunnan music he was researching at that time and his new concerto. Indeed, when he wrote it in 1984, he had never been to Yunnan.

Ironically, his actual visit there was a disappointment – he found no connection with the province. While its name may be wide of the mark, its ingenuity and invention are not: ‘Reminiscences…’ is one of the great concertos written for a Chinese instrument. Since then, Liu Xing’s unconventional methodology has led him to work with new age as well as world music. His other composition featured at the Esplanade, ‘The Return’, was written originally as a MIDI piece on the computer, and later orchestrated on the request of SCO conductor Tsung Yeh for the Chinese orchestra. Liu’s body of work now includes at least three symphonies, a violin concerto and numerous solo zhongruan pieces – not bad for someone who stumbled into the music business by accident.

Now working on transcribing ancient guqin (zither) pieces for the zhongruan, he reflects on his past. ‘At that time, not wanting to do hard labour was my main impetus – it was very simple. It was only a coincidence that music was something I had a natural aptitude for, and it’s only by this coincidence that my interest has lasted until today.’

Liu Xing performs with Manuel Barrueco at the Esplanade on 18 July.