When the Beat Goes On

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Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

繞梁三日

e h T be

bea t s

e o g

on Undeterred by rapid urban development, limited venues and slim profit margins, jazz men, hip-hop freestylers and bolero crooners alike experience the agony and the ecstasy of making music in Ho Chi Minh City 面對急速的都市發展、有限的演出 場地與微薄的薪酬收入,胡志明市的 爵士樂手、嘻哈說唱歌手及波麗露 抒情歌手均於音樂路上經歷種種 苦與甜,不過他們依然堅持信念

BY CO N N L A S TO K E S P H OTO G R A P H Y LEE STARNES

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Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

“Jazz is pure improvisation. It’s a conversation that’s never repeated” 市

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utside Saxnart Jazz Bar, the proprietor Tran Manh Tuan burns three sticks of incense at a family altar and mouths an inaudible prayer. Inside the main room, the house band is gamely warming up a congregation of regulars and tourists, who sip on a variety of libations while wondering if he is coming tonight. Tuan – Vietnam’s most revered saxophonist by a stretch – knows they’re waiting, but he also needs a gin and tonic. “You know, I’m a lucky guy – that’s why I pray when I arrive,” says Tuan with one hand clutching a long beaded necklace, a gift bestowed upon him by a Buddhist monk at Hanoi’s Perfume Pagoda. “I have one of my brother’s kidneys inside me. I lost my sight in one eye. But here I am, playing jazz every day, every night.” Running alongside the pavement outside Saxnart – the only dedicated jazz bar in a city of some 10 million souls — a makeshift blue wall of metal conceals a construction zone, where a metro line will one day run, relieving some of the inner city’s chronic congestion. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” says the white lettering on the wall. “Yeah, it affects our business, but what can I do? They’re trying to modernise the city. We have to just keep doing our thing,” says Tuan, whose parents were both acclaimed performers of cai luong, a form of Vietnamese theatre that fuses traditional instruments, folk songs and classical drama. “I think about this country all the time. That’s why I don’t just want to play jazz standards. I also compose songs that represent a new form of fusion that blends Vietnamese melodies and instruments with classical jazz concepts. You will hear some of that tonight.” With that pronouncement Tuan empties his glass of gin and gives the nod. It’s time. A waiter pulls the door open and Tuan struts to the stage, where he launches into a spellbinding version of “Georgia On My Mind” that brings the house down.

THE CRAFT AND THE CASH “Jazz is pure improvisation. It’s a conversation that’s never repeated – that’s what I have always loved about it, ever since I first picked up a sax,” Tuan said earlier, nearly echoing the exact words of Cathleen Angelo, a native of New York State now based in Ho Chi Minh City. The only difference? Angelo was talking about hip hop and picking up a mic. “From the first time we stepped into a show and started creating on the spot with a crowd, we were hooked to improv,” says Angelo, who along with her partner in crime, Adrienne Mack-Davis, established the Cypher, a weekly freestyling event open to “anyone and everyone” in Ho Chi Minh City. “But it’s still a craft. We work really hard at this – day in, day out.” The work ethic is apparent. All across town, the duo – aided and abetted by 18-year-old DJ Skulz (still known as Vu Tuan to his mum and dad) – perform as New Fame, lifting the roof off small venues with high-energy performances on a regular basis. “Most of the rappers coming to the 48

音樂人的造詣與生計

胡志明 市 CLOCKWISE FROM LEFT: CATHLEEN ANGELO AND ADRIENNE MACK-DAVIS LOOK ON AS A LOCAL HIP-HOP MC PERFORMS AT MAY CAY; TRAN MANH TUAN PERFORMS WITH HIS BAND AT SAXNART JAZZ BAR; DJ SKULZ WORKS THE DECKS 順時針左圖起:在MAY CAY裡,CATHLEEN ANGELO和ADRIENNE MACK-DAVIS從旁觀 賞一位當地嘻哈說唱歌 手表演;TRAN MANH TUAN及其樂隊於爵士酒 吧SAXNART JAZZ BAR 獻藝;DJ SKULZ打碟中

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胡志明 市


Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

“The commercial pressure on this city is relentless. It’s a tough environment for bands and musicians” 市

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Cypher are Vietnamese and that’s exactly what we wanted – to create a platform for the local hip-hop scene to flourish, and that’s what’s happening now,” says Mack-Davis, who came to Vietnam with Angelo, not just in the name of hip hop, but to empower young people from disadvantaged circumstances through creativity and performance arts with Fighting for Futures, a grassroots organisation they co-founded. Held every Tuesday at May Cay Bistro, a second-floor bar that overlooks the Ho Chi Minh City Supreme People’s Court, the Cypher has the feel of an underground event, but hip hop in this sprawling city can hardly be called a nascent scene, at least not online. “Some of these guys have 40 million subscribers on YouTube,” says Mattas Cup, a German photographer and video-maker who is documenting as many of these small shows as he can. “But, so far, nobody has worked out how to monetise their popularity.” The small live music venues that showcase these bands aren’t exactly raking in the cash either. “When we established May Cay, my husband and I just wanted to create a new home for artists, musicians, dreamers and weirdos like us, somewhere down-to-earth and homely, a place where people can be themselves and show their true colours,” says the owner Lammy, a free-spirited local from the seaside town of Vung Tau, who moved to Ho Chi Minh City 10 years ago. “But we also do this because we love this city. May Cay doesn’t belong to us. It belongs to New Fame, and all of the performers and people who come through the door.” In between the lines, the implication is that she doesn’t support live music with the hope of making a big profit – rents in this teeming financial hub are high and gig-goers grumble when there’s a cover charge or at the steep price of alcohol (often inflated to offset the lack of entrance fee). In fact, all of the owners of the small venues, cafés and bars that host musical shows in Ho Chi Minh City invariably describe themselves as music fans, first and foremost. Take Nguyen To Phuong, the

CLOCKWISE FROM RIGHT: EMERGING BANDS AND LOCAL ACTS SHARE THE STAGE AT YOKO CAFÉ; LAMMY, CO-FOUNDER OF MAY CAY; LOCAL INDIE ROCK BAND CA HOI HOANG 順時針右圖起:YOKO CAFÉ的演奏台專為新晉 樂隊及當地歌手而設; MAY CAY合創人 LAMMY;胡志明市 獨立搖滾樂隊CA HOI HOANG

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co-owner of YOKO Café, who goes by the moniker Tofu. At YOKO, emerging local talents share equal stage time with established acts on a nightly basis. “I have been a performing artist in this city for many years, too. I know for a band it takes time to build a following. That’s why we host ‘audition nights’. If a band ‘passes’ the audition, we will support them any way we can,” says Tofu. “We don’t do this with the dream of someday being rich. We’re doing this to share our love of music with others and to promote emerging bands.” IT TAKES A VILLAGE But what happens when an emerging band’s fan base outgrows the city’s intimate venues? That’s the conundrum facing Ca Hoi Hoang (Vietnamese for “Wild Salmon”), an indie rock band long championed by YOKO Café, and fronted by a “couple of nerds”. “The band leader, Minh, and I met in a school for gifted maths students. I know – rock and roll, right?” says the singer Luke, aka Nguyen Viet Thanh, while taking a break from recording in his custom-built studio, where he is putting the finishing touches to the band’s third album. Luke bemoans the fact that they still don’t have a decently sized venue for the launch party in Ho Chi Minh City, where all the band members are based. “There used to be a large place for music down by the dockyards called Cargo that hosted all kinds of international acts and local indie bands. It would have been perfect but sadly it got torn down to make way for a luxury property development,” he says. “The commercial pressure on this city is relentless. It’s a tough environment for bands and musicians. You think you’re making something of a breakthrough but there’s no physical space to go.” Unfortunately, despite the abundance of talent in the city, the search for a large – or even mid-sized – venue that can and will support independent or alternative acts like Ca Hoi Hoang – and generate a profit for all parties involved – continues. For now, Luke and Minh are not the only ones to mourn the passing of Cargo in 2016. “I miss that 51

胡志明市

胡志明市

明 志明市

胡志 明市

眾志成城


Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

“Of course, live music could never disappear completely, but if we don’t keep supporting it, the grassroots music scene will suffer”

Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

space more than anything because of the amazing bands I got to see play live,” says Rod Quinton, one of the former co-owners of Cargo, and a tireless music promoter. “But in a way, it makes me appreciate the city’s smaller venues even more. The owners, along with the bands and the gig-goers, are the stalwarts that are keeping the musical side of Saigon alive. Imagine a city with no live music! Of course, it could never disappear completely, but if we don’t keep supporting it, the grassroots music scene will suffer.” MUSIC NEVER DIES One genre of music that did disappear for a period in Vietnam, at least publicly, is bolero, also known as nhac vang (yellow music). Due to its pre-1975 (the year Vietnam was reunified) associations with the former South Vietnam army, the lovelorn and nostalgic ballads were banned from the airwaves by the authorities in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Nowadays, bolero is freely performed on American Idol-style talent shows, but purists will grumble

市 胡志明市

市 胡志明市

市 市

W H E R E TO E N J OY L I V E M U S I C I N H O C H I M I N H C I T Y 胡志明市現場音樂表演好去處 SAXNART JAZZ CLUB 28 Le Loi, District 1; tranmanhtuan.com

YOKO CAFÉ 22A Nguyen Thi Dieu, District 3; fb.com/yokocafesaigon

NGUOI SAIGON 2/F 9 Thai Van Lung; fb.com/cafedansaigon

MAY CAY BISTRO 2/F 33 Nguyen Trung Tru; fb.com/maycaybistro

Come for nightly performances of jazz standards and fusion music by the acclaimed Tran Manh Tuan and his band.

One of the city’s longest-serving music venues, YOKO showcases a mix of established acts and emerging talents.

At this vintage-themed café-bar dedicated to 1960s Saigonese music, there are live performances of bolero every Saturday from 9pm.

One of the city’s most eclectic venues, May Cay Bistro hosts everything from hip hop and hard rock to indie rock and electronica.

胡志明市

胡志明市

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Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

Ho Chi Minh City / 胡志明市

TOP TO BOTTOM: SIGNAGE FOR THE VINTAGE-THEMED VENUE NGUOI SAIGON; CUSTOMERS LISTENING TO A BOLERO BAND PERFORMING AT NGUOI SAIGON

F L A M E N CO IN HO CHI M I N H C IT Y

右圖及下圖:懷舊咖啡廳 NGUOI SAIGON的壁畫 招牌;其顧客陶醉於波麗 露樂曲演奏之中

Los Mosquitos performs regular shows of flamenco music in Ho Chi Minh City’s intimate venues, cafés and bars. The band leader, Jaime (aka Ha Tran Hai) is a native of the Central Highlands, who came down from the mountains to study classical guitar at the Conservatory of Music. “I loved classical music but when I heard flamenco music for the first time, I had to find out more,” says Jaime, who initially learned by watching videos of Paco de Lucia on YouTube. “Now that we perform it, I can see many Vietnamese enjoy it too. They don’t understand the lyrics, but they love the spirit, the melody and the tempo. They can’t help it. They must dance.”

音韻長存

that it has been heavily commercialised, and sounds more mawkish than melancholic. Holding a torch for the genre’s humbler origins is Nguoi Saigon, a vintage-themed café where every Saturday night the resident guitarist, 49-year-old Le Huy, performs with a rotating cast of professional singers. During a cigarette break, Huy bats away the idea that bolero music could have ever truly disappeared. “Just as Americans will always play the folk music of Woody Guthrie, the Vietnamese of Saigon will always sing these old melodies,” says Huy. “Many of the songs we play at Nguoi Saigon were born at the height of war. At the worst of times, we produced the most beautiful music. Now in Ho Chi Minh City, many old buildings are being razed but we will keep singing and playing music so our culture will be retained.” As Huy steps out onto the balcony with a Saigon beer, right on cue, a young waitress picks up Huy’s Spanish guitar and starts to strum a gentle bolero song. Her male colleague listens attentively to the sweet lyrics about a lover offering to buy an autumn day for his sweetheart. Will he sing us a song next? “Nah, bolero isn’t for me,” he says with a shrug. “I prefer hip hop.” To each their own, but for one and all, somewhere in the big city, the beat goes on.

胡志明市的佛朗明哥 Los Mosquitos是城中最努力不懈和 最具才華的樂隊之一。他們在胡志明 市多間小型場地、咖啡廳和酒吧, 定期演奏佛朗明哥音樂。樂隊隊長 Jaime(又名Ha Tran Hai)生於中央 高地,後來離開家鄉的高聳山脈,前 來胡志明市音樂學院進修古典結他。 「我心愛古典音樂,但當我第一次聽 到佛朗明哥音樂時,便傾心於此, 希望多加鑽研。」Jaime說。學習初 期,他透過YouTube觀摩結他大師 Paco de Lucia的演奏而無師自通。 「現在樂隊表演時,我看到不少越南 人也非常享受這類音樂。觀眾傾聽我 們的演出,雖然不明白其歌詞的意 思,但就被當中的靈魂、旋律和節奏 深深吸引,還禁不住隨歌起舞呢。」

胡志明市

fb.com/mosquitoflamenco

Hong Kong Airlines flies to Ho Chi Minh City daily. For more information, visit hongkongairlines.com 胡志明市

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