It’s tough to complain about 33 cent beer here in Ho Chi Minh City, but lately my mind’s been wandering back to $5 whiskey shot ‘n’ Pabst specials at Sound Fix Records. Sitting in plastic kindergarten chairs, drinking something that manages to taste worse than Pabst, I long for the cozy respite of Sound Fix’s performance space, with its wainscoting and walls pressed with fleur-de-lis. But most of all, I miss the free indy shows in that little vintage den. The impressive cache of song samples at www.soundfixrecords.com allows you to preview the night’s line up. And mercifully, Sound Fix is located just around the corner from the Bedford station, the first stop in Brooklyn on the L train, soothing for those from the island whose gut reaction might be, “Uuuugh…Williamsburg?”
Here in Saigon, I still stop in to sample soundfixrecords.com’s top sellers list and search for untold gems. Lately, I’ve been wading through the the synthy nu-gaze ether of M83‘s “Saturday’s = Youth” and tapping my toe to Tokyo Police Club‘s pendulum-steady pop beats on “Elephant Shell”.