Leng Pleng

By guest writer Troy Campbell

I reach into my stickbag and pull out a pair of Vic Firth 5B’s, drumsticks given to me by Salvatore DiGaetano, generous devil dog drummer that he is.  I’m playing a gig tonight at The Aftermath with another Phnom Penh musical luminary, Mr. Ziad Samman. The Aftermath is a cool rock and roll venue in Hong Kong’s Central district, and I smile at the Cambodian dots connected by Ziad, Sal and myself. I smile thinking about the numerous Wat Sarawan open mics collected along the way.  I smile recalling the Professor Kinski remix of a CSP siren song that prompted me to visit Cambodia years ago, a song I first heard on a CD purchased in Singapore while I was stationed in Korea. I smile at my sheer dumb, stupid luck.

I first met Ziad during the infancy of the Sunday Sundowner Sessions, then at the long-lost Rubies Wine Bar on 240.  What has become a long-running institution started innocently when I asked Scoddy Bywater if he had a pair of brushes. He allowed me to play alongside him using said brushes on an empty cardboard box formerly filled with wine bottles. At the time I was fresh out of the US Army and a bit impetuous.  Scoddy was the polite member of the CSP ready for prime time on his own.  And a weekly jubilee kicked off.  One sunny Sunday afternoon, Ziad came to the Sundowners at Rubies, pompadour high and psychobilly strong. His rendition of Lonesome Tears in my Eyes a la Johnny Burnette and the Rock and Roll Trio with myself on box and Scoddy on harmonica is a ten-year old memory that Ziad and I have toasted to with a few Hong Kong lagers. Hopefully we will play it tonight.  Hopefully there will be lots of lager.  Our pompadours have thinned a bit over the years, admittedly. Luckily our rhumba hasn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Troy with Scoddy, brushes and wine box at Rubies, 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ziad at Rubies, 2013

Now, not to get into Phnom Penh nostalgia, but it’s very easy to reminisce about the clubs that have come and gone, the Penhois musos who come and go and the club owners and managers who keep/have kept venues running with duct-tape and string, savvy and grit.  It’s easy to wax poetic because it’s a beloved scene.  And it’s easy because it’s an awfully good one, filled with world-class players in every genre.  Anyone who visits and performs in the pearl of Asia usually leaves Cambodia transformed, planning a return trip, wondering what’s happening at Equinox, Oscars, Sunset Boulevard, telling others about the high caliber of musicianship co-existing with the much-touted smells of durian and urine.  I rarely discuss my former lives in Austin and New York City, but like Ziad, I talk about Cambodia all the damn time, venerating The Harbor in Siem Reap, the well-curated line-up at Oscars on the Corner, my impromptu jams with friends in Battambang.  Like Ziad, I am lucky to have experienced it and have gotten tattooed because of it. I am looking forward to playing Oscars again, hopefully with the very rock and roll trio that has invited me in, The Side Burns. Like so many, we read Leng Pleng from abroad just to see what’s going on and live a bit vicariously through it. The existence of Leng Pleng is proof positive of how vibrant the Cambodian scene is.

The musical connection between Hong Kong and Phnom Penh is a long-running one, for sure. They have quite a bit in common in terms of camaraderie and support. A few of the musicians that I have met recently in Hong Kong have gigged in Cambodia and long to get back there for a few shows, as Ziad, Paul and I do. (Paul is the bass player of The Side Burns and many great HK bands.  Real deal musician. Think Greg Beshers but with a British accent.)  Like Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, Hong Kong has a friendly, tight knit musical community. Please leave your ego behind.  Ziad has generously brought a few Phnom Penh folk to this shore as well, placing like-minds in their prospective wheelhouses, rockabilly with rockabilly, singer/song-writers with their tribe. Years ago he facilitated a recording of Scoddy and myself at Sunset Studios in HK’s Kennedy Town. CSP’s Adrian Gayraud was part of that session as well. The owner of Sunset is a gregarious Canadian drummer named Paul (a different Paul from my bandmate) who has become a drinking buddy, one that is currently advising me on how to acquire a Hong Kong visa. He has also gigged at Oscars of late. At that recording session I first met the tremendously talented Ariane Parkes, a Penhois muso who would save my life at least twice in later years. She, Scoddy and I experienced the HK riots together, riots that would heavily overshadow the art exhibition at The Aftermath that Ziad also facilitated for me in 2014.  I currently have an art exhibition at The Aftermath in HK of works painted on Cambodia Beer boxes, cardboard once again serving as a medium.  Because of an open mic at Rubies Wine Bar in 2013, I am currently in a working band in Hong Kong.  Because of a connection made at Oscars during the pandemic, I now have a place to stay in Hong Kong, on the beach, no less. Because of a CD purchased in Singapore in 2011, I am a very lucky guy today. Stupidly so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Troy at Sunset Studios, 2019

While living in Vietnam years ago I was able to reconnect with the beautiful Kate Liana, former bass player in Ziad’s former Phnom Penh band Tango and Snatch (best name ever).  The magic of Phnom Penh’s musical scene is a common refrain for Kate and myself to this day, as it is for so many of us currently residing elsewhere for the moment. I have had the exact same discussion with former PP riot grrl Zoe Zac, currently in Brisbane.  Ditto RJ in Sweden, Conrad in Texas, Dan in Darwin, Sam in New York and so, so many others in the Leng Pleng constellation.  We all say the same thing. We all smile at the thought of Cambodia and pine to get back there and play. And very likely, we will, with plenty of lagers, with plenty of compatriots, with many stars shining.

As I am warming up with a pair of Sal’s drumsticks, I have to marvel at this connection and these interconnections, how a CD with Jan Mueller’s remix of Ke Kremom Ta Ke Djah changed me profoundly, and how the dots connected by skill, love, warmth and tenacity have connected me to HK, via Phnom Penh. In the meantime, I have Ziad’s current band waiting for me to get behind the set and count off a Dion and the Belmonts song, Born to Cry.   Lonesome Tears is way down on the set list, which will be nice to re-visit.  Cheers to sheer dumb, stupid luck.  And thanks again, Sal.  You rock.

Kate,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kate, Ziad and Troy at Rubies Wine Bar, 2013

See also From the archive – Drumsticks, brushes and chopsticks: Troy Campbell