4-4-09 : Chips off the old block learn to rock

Hitting The Fifties with the terrible trio...

Its a sad fact that I'm reaching the same age as my favourite Hong Kong hangout, The Fifties.

This off the beaten track hole in the wall is situated on the 3rd floor of the California Entertainment Building on D'Aguilar Street in Lan Kwai-fong. It has a rocking house band, The Magic Touch, and they actively encourage patrons to sing.

(Some so-called friends of mine go "Oh, its just karaoke...", but, no, its a live band. LIVE! That's a whole different experience, like the difference between mud wrestling and Fight Club...)

I first started going there back in my Media Asia days. My then boss Thomas Chung held a party there to launch the next wave of MA productions, and the likes of Michelle Yeoh and Jackie Chan turned up to rock the joint. (The exterior of the same establishment is visible, in its original location, in John Woo's film The Killer, and John himself, along with many other stars, has signed the interior wall.) After that, it became a favourite paparazzi-safe hangout for myself, Maggie Q, Edison Chen, Stephen Fung and Paul Rudd. (The only time I ever really impressed Paul occurred there, when I recited with him all the words to Elvis Costello's song Accidents Will Happen...)

Over the years, I've been back to The Fifties to celebrate births, birthdays, premieres, hits, flops, first dates, break-ups and everything in-between. Its the one place where, on any night and with the right crowd, its impossible not to have a good time.

Various traditions have been established. For example, when the guitarist plays that inevitable solo from Hotel California, our whole party bows at his feet, going "We're not worthy, we're not worthy..." (And we aren't!)

So when the management decided to hold a 70s disco night, they gave me a call. I guess they figured they needed at least a few people present who actually lived through that decade! I told them that I was taking care of my three sons that night, and so could not attend. "Why not bring them with you?" Bring my kids? To a club? To party...?!? Well, why not...

Elizabeth helped gel their hair, and we put them in their funkiest wear. (For some reason, the twins looked like they were part of a Parisian punk rock group...)

We descended on the unsuspecting venue. Not the least bit intimidated, team Logan took the corner table, and the my two 7s and an 11 checked out the crowd.

Its hard to believe I celebrated the twins' birth in this place, and now they're almost big enough to party unattended.

The trio tore up the dance floor, grabbed the mike to belt out a song and, to my sterling rendition of Kung Fu Fighting, showed that they really are fast as lightning...

My eldest boy, Ryan danced with a towering Taiwanese girl, and kissed her afterwards, which was more than I ever got to do when I was 11! (Or now, if the sad truth be told...)

Somewhere in Memphis, The King spins in his grave, as I got my Elvis on for the assembly. I know this wasn't in keeping with the 70s mood, but Stayin' Ali-i-ive is beyond my pitch. (I even wore my 'Nobody Knows I'm Elvis' t-shirt, bought for me by Maggie Q in, I believe, Las Vegas....)

The boys were all for my showing them the way to the next whiskey bar, but we decided to head home. (I pretended it was because they were tired, rather than me...!)

So, for a good time, go check out The Fifties, tell 'em I sent you. If you're lucky, I'll be there, and, if you're really lucky, les trois freres Logan will also be in the house...