Finding stores in Hong Kong is an adventure. Few buildings have visible addresses, and the ones that do share numbers with multiple places. So, as I turn down a market road and peek into a strange building with a narrow hallway, you can only imagine how surprised I am to see an older Asian man signal me to come into this strange building’s lobby. “He’s expecting you,” he says, and I think I’m in The Matrix or something. Traveling up a creaky elevator, I’m not sure whether I’m walking into a record store or about to be kidnapped. I’ll have a story to tell, either way.The elevator opens on the fifth floor and I notice boxes, lots of boxes, in the hallway. As I head towards a door obscured by cardboard, I look down and see flyers for future concerts in Hong Kong. Before I can reach for the doorbell, out pops a tiny Asian man. This is Paul Au.