SINGAPORE — There’s a line from a Bob Dylan song that goes: “You may be a rock ‘n’ roll addict prancing on the stage … but you’re gonna have to serve somebody.” That sums up what Steve Vai does.

When he performs, the rock guitarist says it’s not so much a situation where people come to acknowledge his musical ability, but rather a chance for him to “serve” the audience. “Everybody who works is usually serving somebody somehow,” he said in a phone interview.

This is coming from someone whom fans hail as a near-deity and music rags such as Guitar Player and Guitar World magazines regularly list as one of the world’s greatest rock or metal guitarists. Someone who has, through the years, picked up three Grammys (as a performer and a producer) as well as a host of nominations.

Apart from his own solo works, Vai has played with some of the biggest names in rock, including Frank Zappa, David Lee Roth, Whitesnake and fellow guitarists Joe Satriani and Eric Johnson in the guitar supergroup, G3.

But everything has been for the sake of the audience — in other words, the fans who will flock to the Star Theatre on March 21 to see Vai in concert.

“Most of the time we take a very selfish perspective of what we do – what’s in it for me, you know? But I was given a particular gift to create a particular kind of music that a particular audience likes. It’s not a big pop audience, but whatever the size, it doesn’t matter, because a person can only be the best at what comes naturally for them. So if you can find the gift that’s very natural to you, you’re bringing something to people that will benefit them, uplift them and inspire them.”

Q: Do you remember your very first show in Singapore at the Hard Rock Cafe back in 1997?

A: I remember it very well. They had put chairs and tables out and I said: “You can’t put chairs and tables out, they’re going to get destroyed”. And they said, “No, no, this is Singapore, nobody will do that.” We had more than 1,000 people trying to get into the Hard Rock, which was already full, and sure enough, as soon as we started playing, all the tables and chairs turned into splinters. And people were hanging from the balcony and pushing and falling onto the stage and I had to stop the show like, three or four times. They were wild and out of their minds. It was great. I didn’t expect that, but it was fun.

Q: So what can we expect from next week’s show?

A: You can expect not to have any tables or chairs in the audience! No, I’m just kidding. You know, every year that goes by, in every song, I try to use it as an opportunity to get deeper into the core of the note, into the performance. It’s all about being as present as I can be. And when that happens, there’s this beautiful expression. Primarily I feel like I have an obligation to deliver the best music because that’s what people come for.

Q: You’ve tackled a few different things that many won’t expect from rock guitarists, like composing orchestral scores. Is there a constant need to change who you are?

A: For a period of time, there was some inner turmoil about it, because the ego – well, my ego, at least – wants to blend in. You see what’s going on and there’s this image from people of what you should be doing, what they think of as the box that you belong in, so to speak. Sometimes that’s what happens: You’re a young musician, you’re inspired by a hero, you create that music, you get those tattoos, you grow your hair a certain way, you adopt a particular way of speaking, the clothes you wear, the music you record, the things you say … these are all conditioned, almost, into your thought patterns, because this is what everybody else is doing. And to some degree I’ve done that.

But there has always been this greater, simple desire to follow an idea that was very interesting and exciting. You become a slave to it, you know. People who are very artistic have a tendency to be moved by a vision that they can’t not do. It’s torture if they can’t do it. So a lot of times, I’d sit there and people would want me to … just last month, I got three offers to do blues records. And it was a lot of money.

Now, I love the blues, but I wouldn’t like to do that. I would like to do something more. There are some great blues players out there. Don’t come to me for that. I’m not great at that. Can you imagine if Jimi Hendrix had felt that he had to be like Eric Clapton? It’s absurd.

Q: I know you and Allen Sides, boss of renowned recording studio Ocean Way, recently launched an app called Microphone Locker. What’s that all about?

A: Besides just playing the guitar and recording music, I’ve always loved various aspects of recording: Engineering, mixing, producing, I do all that. And Allen, who was my neighbour, is really brilliant. And he had a CD-ROM called Microphone Locker. It was an invaluable recording tool for me when I was younger. But after CD-ROMs went away, all that technology was just sitting there. Now, he’s a good friend of mine — our families just spent a weekend away together in Northern California — and I said, “You know, you’ve got all this technology just sitting on the shelf, let’s make an app, it’s really simple”.

The Microphone Locker app is a really valuable app if you’re an engineer, producer or musician, because it has a great library of antique microphones, it tells you about the mic and its specifications and what it’s good for. It gives you audio examples, the best mic placement … it’s really amazing! I was surprised no one’s ever done it before.

Q: So you’ve really been around the block. What would you say is your biggest life lesson?

A: Life is right now. It’s the present moment. Thoughts about the past and future and what’s going on in your life, they’re important but not totally important. What’s absolutely important is being totally connected to the present moment. And being alert and aware.

Q: What would you like your legacy to be?

A: I don’t really think about my legacy. I don’t really care. I am not too concerned about being remembered because it’s not going to mean anything to me then, you know? It’s a projection into an imaginary future that will never come to me. I can experience that now, by just being in the present. I mean, sure, it’s very nice to know that there’s people right now who find some value and satisfaction in my music and my playing. That’s really nice. Would it be nice if somebody in the future discovered it? Yes, it would be nice. But it’s not going to matter to me. I’ll leave it to historians. Chances are, I’ll be labelled “a guitar player from the past”. That’s fine with me, because ultimately the music of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, The Beatles or anybody else, it’s going to be dust one day. It’s not going to be remembered by anybody.

I wouldn’t be surprised that, in time, all the great spiritual leaders or religious leaders that are so important to us right now, won’t even be remembered. However, the principles that they stood for are timeless.

And here’s the thing: I don’t want to sound cold when I say I don’t care about the future or my legacy, but my legacy is already something that has contributed to whatever’s going to happen in the future. Anything that anybody does right now, changes or contributes to what’s going to happen in the moment and the moment after that. So what I’m doing now as a guitarist, while I won’t be remembered, I have made a contribution that will intrinsically be brought through the history of the future.

Some will say, well, this guy’s impact is much stronger than yours, but it’s not necessarily true. You don’t know how what you do or say can affect somebody. So this illusion that we have of raising the status of people, is just that — an illusion.

The music of the Beatles will contribute to the future, when the Beatles aren’t even remembered, thousands of years from now. It’s no time at all. A million years is nothing. So why worry about what will happen? Just do your best right now.

Q: I have to ask this: What’s your biggest Spinal Tap moment?

A: Haha! Early on, when I was in (heavy metal band) Alcatrazz, I was just learning how to run around on stage like an idiot. And I used to think that I could climb up on things and jump off them. And one time, I climbed up and I jumped and split, and crushed the tissue in the heels and I fell and tumbled — it wasn’t graceful. It was about as Spinal Tap as one could get. No, you won’t be seeing me doing that in Singapore!

What: An evening with Steve Vai

When: March 21, 8pm

Where: The Star Theatre, The Star Performing Arts Centre

Tickets: From S$78 to S$148 at SISTIC