Am in Hong Kong, so, naturally, I had to sample the nightlife. My colleagues and I leaned on some foreign correspondents here to take us out, to an ex-pat bar, it turned out, filled with Australian traders, Japanese flight attendants, and Malaysian hookers. All were getting down to “I Touch Myself,” sung with a kind of eerie mimicry by a Filipino cover band.They then moved onto “Love Shack,” at once discordant and spot on, and received with equal ardor.
Although the Aussies plied me with a great many vodkas on the rocks, I resisted. I also managed to get home, mostly in one piece. The scene got me thinking, however. Every country has a particular export: The Japanese export cars, the French wine and cheese, the Chinese, crappy plastic stuff. But how did the Phillipines become the suppliers of house bands worldwide?