A livewire on stage

Emil the consummate performer is irrepressible, someone whose spontaneous banter with his audience leaves them marvelling at his easy self-assurance and enviable ability to ad lib. His tendency to forget lyrics has become a running joke. But how many stars not only charm the audience into forgetting his forgetfulness, but to actually looking forward to it at his concerts? Asked once by a DJ how he would salvage the situation should he suffer a memory lapse at the worst possible moment --- right smack in the throes of a heart-wrenching ballad --- he quipped, "I guess I'd have to break down and cry."

In his own subtle way, he convinces us that his concert is a must-see. During an unplugged concert organised by FM 93.3 a few months ago, Emil explained to a group of ardent fans: "Some songs must be heard 'live,' where you can see the singer get into character." He then proceeded to prove his point with a heartfelt rendition of "Finally," complete with contorted expressions of pain. Two teenagers in the front row looked like they were about to cry; a middle-aged fan closed his eyes in reverent concentration . . . such is the magnetism of Emil Chau.

Up close and riveting

Though much has been said about his nondescript looks, it wouldn't be hard to pick out Emil Chau in a crowded room. If the unmistakable guffaw doesn't lead you to the man, then the prominent jaw which widens to reveal a toothy grin will. A face that's benign without being banal, it goes through a myriad of expressions as he records an interview for an airline. Playful, contemplative, enthusiastic . . . You see the interviewer's sedate facade dissipate when Emil pleads in mock seriousness: "Can you make me sound younger, or at least like Mel Gibson?" He turns a simple message about CD giveaways into an impromptu comedy stint, and you realise what they mean when they say there's no such things as boring announcements . . . only boring people.

Four hours and a coiffeur doth make a star.

Everywhere Emil Chau goes, a quiet, strapping young man with eyes perpetually shielded by Ray-Bans follows. You'd be forgiven for thinking he's the bodyguard, but you find out later the young man wields with expertise not a concealed weapon, but a can of mousse. Somehow, it takes you a while to reconcile the fact that the guy-next-door has a personal hairstylist, but you think, he is a star, after all (who, apparently, has "difficult hair").

If a celebrity's star power can be measured by how many hours his fans queue in line to get that precious scrawl of a signature, Emil Chau probably wouldn't fare too badly. Observing an autograph-signing session at HMV, you can't decide who you feel sorrier for --- Emil, who's sweating profusely and diplomatically rejecting requests to sign more than one CD sleeve per person, or the fans who queued four hours to push their luck.

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