“The cake was pretty immense,” explains Mei Yau Kan. “We ordered it and it was a massive Hong Kong-style cake, with chocolate inside and loads of exotic fruits, and written in chocolate [on the outside] it read: ‘Hong Kong In The 60s’.”

“We made these traditional egg custard tarts too although they were burnt,” adds Tim Scullion, her band member. 

“They were Portuguese-style, not Chinese,” interrupts Mei, chiding Tim for his apparent lack of knowledge regarding baked goods. “It’s to do with the pastry, not the burned parts. And they were not burnt.”

Third member Chris Greenberg interjects. “There were some people having a go at us for not dancing. We were trying to explain that it was our party so it was OK! One guy didn’t seem to grasp it, he was like ‘You’re disrespecting the DJ!’”
Tim concurs regarding the general awesomeness. “Because the pub is attached to the theatre and that night the two plays billed were titled ‘Naked Boys’ and ‘Fucking Men’ we had fabulous gay men around for a while. There was a guy who looked like Billy Childish there too, I don’t think it was him but he was wearing an amazing suit.”

Such runs a typical conversation with Hong Kong in the 60s.
The night and cake (and custard tarts) they refer to was the launch of their EP, Willow Passion Songs. It happened at the Kings Head Theatre Pub in Islington, and whether or not Billy Childish was there, it seemed pretty cool.

Adjectives like beautiful and dreamy are oft used when describing the music that HK60s, as we’ve taken to calling them, specialise in. It’s that melodic, gentle pop so beloved of indie filmmakers and directors of car adverts – which, we’d like noted for the record, is no bad thing. The group chuckle at how apt the beautiful/dreamy descriptions are: Mei is inspired by kittens and mice, according to Tim, and she does not dispute this.

Annoyingly, we’re meeting Hong Kong in the 60s during the F.A Cup Final, but we’ve checked our disgruntled vibe at the door of the Cafe de Hong Kong on Charing Cross Road – and what an appropriate venue, especially with the entirely rad world of pearl smoothies to get to grips with (it’s a fruit beverage involving jelly balls, which comes with extra fat and a colour co-ordinated straw so that you may consume with ease). We also eat a Chinese version of French toast which, as it happens, is a little different from its European and/or American counterpart. It has peanut butter inside and gets covered in syrup. Somewhere, Elvis wishes he thought of that one.

And Cup Final be damned; on the whole, HK60s share a non-interest in sports. “Eating out is our recreation,” says vocalist Yau Kan. The urbane trio tell us it’s one of their favourite eateries in the city – definitely in the top ten at least. There’s a literal list, apparently, but many of those to have featured previously have sadly closed , including the former glory that was The New Piccadilly cafe on Denman Street. Chris and Tim agree that the only gigs they go to are their own, going so far as to say that they don’t really go out to gigs at all. Shame on them.

Tim is going to be playing keys at a few gigs this summer with The Marshmallow Kisses; they’re probably willing to show up to those at least. And food really does seem to be the one thing that gets them collectively excited. That and global super show The Wire.

One of the great mysteries of the band is the volume of Mei’s voice, says Chris, as when she sings she is so quiet – although in conversation, there is no timidity at all. They don’t like the idea of making loud music, and one of their greatest fears - or Tim’s at least - is making anything that would turn them into a rock band. “I can’t stand big funky beats either. So no Norman Cook.” OK then.

Their songwriting processes are very much a group effort working around an initial idea from one of them, though Chris most often provides the lyrics. He’s known as ‘Mr.Thesaurus’ by the band, and is very self-deprecating, assuring us that it’s a very small thesaurus.

Willow Passion Songs seems evocative of their slightly haphazard work ethic. Quite often they’ll begin work on something and then not come back to it for a couple of months, having forgotten its composition entirely. “If there’s one piece of advice to come out of this interview it would be to write down songs as you’re composing them. Keep a notebook,” says Tim.

“We record everything in stages,” explains Chris, “and so we each contribute. We try and play so that everyone does guitar, everyone sings, everyone plays keyboards, so we do different things on different tracks.”

“Yeah it’s the same on stage,” says Tim, happily focusing for a moment on their live show. “From one song to the next we’ll swap places and instruments. Sometimes even in the middle of a song. Don’t get me wrong, we try to make it look as boring as possible. There’s no danger of being entertained!”
Well, that’s a relief. We were getting a bit worried there.

Do they have a similar list of favourite London venues perhaps? They visibly recoil. So that’s a no, then? It’s more likely, they say, for them to compile a top ten of least favoured venues, though they do concede that The Luminaire is as nice, as is The Enterprise - where they are playing their latest gig at the Beat Happening Sessions on 26 June.

Initially Buffalo Bar is on the gash list until they remember how awesome the sound tech is; apparently he has massive mood swings and you never know how to approach him. Yes, we agree, he sounds pretty awesome.

Indie in the UK and America these days is obsessed with roaring live shows that aim to blow you away but not, it seems, for HK60. “Some people just haven’t got ‘edge’ and ‘attitude’.” laughs Tim. “But they do have musical talent. Since when did this country decide that indie equals anthemic?”