
Taiwan's musical poet tinkles the ivories during an April 2008 rehearsal break at the National Concert Hall in Taipei. (Courtesy of Ken Chuang)
By June Tsai
It is often said that the essence of creativity emerges during periods of challenging personal circumstances. For Taiwan-born pianist and composer Tyzen Hsiao, this proved especially true when in 1978, while living in the United States with his wife and children, he penned "The Vagabond"--a heartwarming composition that tugs at the heartstrings of any Taiwan expatriate far from home.
Thirty years later, the 71-year-old Hsiao--who has been compared to Russian composer, pianist and conductor Sergei Rachmaninoff--was awarded the 2008 National Cultural Award in Taipei. "I cannot believe I'm standing here today," Hsiao said Jan. 6. This recognition represents a career-defining achievement, and justifies the decades he spent pining for home while traveling the rocky road to creative success.
According to Hsiao, he can trace his decision to pursue a musical career back to the small stateside gift shop he was running to support his family. One day while playing piano, three female customers stopped by and one of them said: "Young man, you are so talented. What are you doing here?" From that point on, whenever Hsiao would question the path he was taking, he would recall the stranger's words. "It was a very uncertain period in my life," he said. "I almost forgot the mission God give me."
In 1980, Hsiao composed an orchestral work titled "March of Democracy."
Recognizing the strength of the piece, Taiwan's opposition groups adopted the music as their theme song in the struggle against Kuomintang authoritarian rule--a decision that led to the artist being blacklisted by the KMT and banned from returning to Taiwan. The painful exile lasted for 15 years but helped Hsiao transform his memories of Taiwan and joyful homecoming into a rich repertoire of songs, instrument solos, chamber and orchestral works.
At the artist's award ceremony, Hsiao was praised for having integrated the essence of Taiwanese music with aspects of Western music's tradition of classicism, romanticism and modernism. His large-scale pieces, "Symphony Formosa" (1987), "Violin Concerto in D major" (1988), "Cello Concerto in C major" (1990) and "Piano Concerto in C minor" (1992) were lauded as being "innovative in harmony and technique," blending East and West while crossing cultural barriers by imparting a sense of sentimental longing for one's home.
Hsiao explained that the recognition he is experiencing today is not necessarily made sweeter by the pain of yesterday's denial. "When one is seeking their own career direction, it is hard to say whether they make the right choice or not," he said. "Some might find my music agreeable, while others might not. If there's no recognition now, perhaps this might come later. An artist who counts on recognition will only fail," he advised.
Born in Taiwan's southern city of Kaohsiung in 1938, Hsiao made his debut as a pianist at the age of seven, having received piano instruction from his mother--a Japan-educated musician--for two years. Later, he studied music at a top Taipei college, which today is National Taiwan Normal University. After graduating, Hsiao taught locally for several years before moving to Japan in the mid-1960s to study composition at the Musashino Academy of Music.
Hsiao said he first realized how difficult music composition could be while trying to compose the score "Jesus Christ." Brought up in a Christian family, Hsiao attempted to fulfill his father's wish that he should contribute to the realm of religious music. The labor of love took him 10 years to finish.
Upon returning from Japan, Hsiao worked for several years as a composer and associate professor at various colleges in southern Taiwan until moving to the United States in 1977. His first year stateside was marked by a lacuna of creativity, yet he quickly bounced back. Seeking to improve his composition skills, Hsiao decided at the age of 49, to pursue further study and enrolled as a student in 1986 at California State University, Los Angeles, where he later earned a Masters degree in composition.
In 1993, Hsiao trained his creative sights on the bloodiest part of Taiwan's history--the February 28 Incident. During the process of composing his "1947 Overture," he suffered a ruptured aneurysm and almost lost his life. "On my sickbed, I prayed that God would allow me to live and finish what I had started," he said. "I joked if he insisted on summoning me to his side at that moment, then he could finish the composition for me."
Hsiao recovered and completed "1947 Overture" in 1994. The dramatic piece opens with a solemn and powerful phase that rivals any comparable Western classic. A piano solo and orchestral accompaniment flesh out the main theme, with the mood full of sorrow and lament. Taiwanese folk tunes help bring the music to a boil, surging with a vehement energy. A soprano sings "Love and Hope," a memorial song, with lyrics written by Taiwanese poet Lee Min-yung. This succinctly represents the meaning of the work: "Plant a tree in our land. It is for love not for hate; it is of hope not of death." The piece culminates in a choir performance that fosters a mood of spirituality.
"In writing the composition, I selected a musical vocabulary that I knew could express what many Taiwan-born people would say about the February 28 Incident," Hsiao said. "This represents the great part of Taiwan that was sacrificed," while emphasizing that he did not seek to rewrite history. "Others might share the same thinking as I, but they do not necessarily have the tools to express this. I did my best and hope it is right," he stated.
Hsiao continued to produce large-scale pieces, including 1999's "The Angel of Formosa," "Ode to Yushan," and "The Prodigal Son"--a cantata--in 2000. Two years later, Hsiao suffered a stroke while composing "Love River Symphony," an orchestral work dedicated to his home city. The work remains unfinished, awaiting an improvement in his health.
The composer stated that what he now seeks to do is re-work previous pieces and arrange them for release. "There is still so much to do," he said, the steely determination in his voice plainly evident.
Though Hsiao's music has been brought to the international stage on many occasions, his recordings remain few in number, with even fewer released locally. Musicians fortunate enough to have worked with Hsiao believe there is a pressing need to correct this situation.
Renowned Taipei-based pianist Lina Yeh, for example, has spent the last two years working on recording Hsiao's piano solos after performing his works during various outings. "Hsiao is essentially a pianist and that is why he wants so much to have his piano works published," Yeh said, adding she was asked to do the job 10 years ago but was deterred by a lack of time and sponsors. "After all these years, I just decided to go ahead and record them, otherwise it would be too late for Hsiao to critique the result."
The result, much to Hsiao's delight, is "Memories of Home: Tyzen Hsiao Piano Solo Works." Released Jan. 1, the recording coincides with his 71st birthday and covers pieces composed over Hsiao's 22-year career. "Hsiao's music reminds me a bit of Chopin Nocturnes and Rachmaninoff Preludes," Yeh said. "Yet the most beautiful melodies are always present in his pieces."
Hsiao expressed a wish to have more of his and other Taiwan-born musicians works reinterpreted so classic music indigenous to Taiwan could live on. "A classic-music tradition unique to Taiwan is not impossible to work out and systemize; it is just that not enough people are working on this," Hsiao said. "It requires the efforts of more people to establish such a tradition, and should not be left to just a few people and their limited range of ideas."
Lamenting his poor health and advanced age, Hsiao is disappointed that he will not be able to realize this goal and explained that he has only completed a small part of his musical journey. "What I have accomplished so far took a great deal of attention and diligence," he said. "But it could not have taken place without many people's assistance."
In regards to the award that Hsiao risked his health to return to Taiwan to receive, the maestro with his homeland never far from mind said, "I have simply expressed my ideas in music for the audience to understand. This award is an encouragement, and I'd also like to urge everyone in this country to make a contribution to Taiwan and its music."
This article is published in Taiwan Journal Jan. 23, 2009.
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