On a humid Saturday night in June, the heat and energy are ramping up inside Arcan, a venue hidden in a winding alleyway of Saigon (a name used interchangeably with its official title since 1976, Ho Chi Minh City). Inside, everyone is shoulder to shoulder to witness the magic of VẤP CỤC ĐÁ, a queer party now in its eighth month. Nitrous oxide balloons fill the hands of a young Vietnamese crowd decked out in cyberpunk and '90s grunge. Their free-spirited attitude match the dance floor's rebellious energy. Vogue music's emphatic rhythms start to echo out. On a stage, battling Vietnamese drag queens execute back-to-back death drops as the crowd hits fever pitch. This is Vietnam's first drag ballroom competition and it's a historic moment.

Amid the frenzy, Tung, a regular at LGBTQIA+ parties, leans in and says to me, "this is incredible, I’ve never seen anything like this before." That's what VẤP CỤC ĐÁ, a tongue-in-cheek expression for handling a fall by voguing, hopes to change. It seeks to expose more locals to queer culture through regular parties around the country as well as stage takeovers at festivals such as Equation. "I want to educate, I see it's important to show the community the history of music, and show how aspects of gay culture like a drag show and ballroom are different," describes Tizone Bui, who founded the party in January this year alongside Chi Min, Ryanson Hoang and Quynh Nguyen (AKA Bongbongquayquay.)

VẤP CỤC ĐÁ is part of a new generation of artists and collectives that are redefining Vietnam's nightlife. With 70 percent of the country's population under 35 years old, a wave of locally-run platforms that prioritise freedom of expression, queer love and genre fluidity has emerged. These include Nhạc Gãy, OBJoff, PiuPiu, Ngẫm Nghĩ, Saigon Community Radio and vndtown. Previously, Saigon's underground nightlife, apart from a few local pioneers, was largely dominated by expats. And while some of these foreign-born residents are deeply respected for their contributions to rave culture, the emergence of more local promoters, DJs and producers is an undeniable game-changer. From turbulent techno to high-octane hybrids of hard dance, young crews are now creating nights that combine fashion, art and other subcultures with experimental dance music in an effort to dispel conventional notions of what a club should sound like.

The founders of collective and label Nhạc Gãy.

"There are many different circles; the hardcore circle, hip-hop circle, [and] we try to bridge links between all those different things," says Anh Phi Tran, cofounder of Nhạc Gãy along with Linh Ngô (AKA Abi Wasabi), Thao Vu (AKA Mess), Celina Huynh and Mike Pham. "We don't want to fall into one specialised genre. It's more about the energy and about having fun."

A collective and label formed in 2019, Nhạc Gãy embraces an anything-goes philosophy at its events, both sonically and otherwise. A sheep head flies over the stage at one show courtesy of thrash band Cút Lộn. Traditional instruments reverberate over EBM at another gig, and Vinahouse (a style of EDM that jacks up local pop with blistering bass) mixes with gabber on a separate night. For its Boiler Room gig in May, Nhạc Gãy booked experimental band Rắn Cạp Đuôi, soon to be releasing on Gãy, who showed up with not one but three drummers. When Anh Phi dropped Vinahouse later in the night, the crowd burst into a wave of hedonistic celebration. Choosing to own and celebrate their cultural heritage, Gãy adopts an inclusive attitude to parties and bookings. This makes their high energy nights a hit across local dance floors as well as diaspora communities. In May, artists Laifex, Amalina, Sức Khỏe and nguyendowsXP streamed live from New York's The Lot Radio as part of a Gãy takeover.

"This, I think, is at the core of Gãy, because like you know, we are mixed up people from Saigon, from other parts of Vietnam, and with Việt kiều (overseas Vietnamese), we are trying to embrace this diversity," notes Anh Phi.

Mess jokingly refers to her early mixing style as gãy, a Vietnamese word for "broken" that captures the crew's playful approach to music. "[It's like] breaking through to get to different dimensions," Linh says of the crew. "Every night is a story for me, it changes me." It's also changing how Vietnam's wider music community perceives the local club scene. Nhạc Gãy has thrown parties at hotels and bottle-service clubs as it looks to convince more commercial venues of the underground's cultural value.

VẤP CỤC ĐÁ, Nhạc Gãy and OBJoff, a collective pushing local fashion, art and music that's co-run by VẤP CỤC ĐÁ member Ryanson Hoang, attend each other's parties and share the same goal of strengthening local subcultures. This focus on interconnectivity and integration came to fruition during the pandemic. For most of 2020, Vietnam operated normally under a closed border policy before a hard lockdown in 2021. The lack of international travel forced music communities to look inwards, pushing crowds to connect with local DJs and parties. This also enabled up-and-coming talents to play peak-time slots that would have been hard to obtain otherwise.

Scenes from queer party VẤP CỤC ĐÁ.

It's taken years for Saigon's club community to reach this stage in its evolution. The scene's wide-ranging sonic palette has its roots in the late 1980s, when Vietnam lifted tight state censorship over the arts as part of new economic reforms. From 1986 onwards, the creative economy picked up. MTV arrived, and the musical talent series Paris by Night captured the hearts of locals by featuring traditional artists such as Khánh Ly and Thu Hien on the radio. A generation born during that era, when international and local sounds were fused together, is now forging its own path.

Since then, a number of institutions and artists have paved the way for the club community to achieve its current momentum. One of them was bass veteran Jase Nguyen, whose parties The Beat and Bass Republic were a major source of inspiration for Tizone. Describing one of those nights, she notes how "there were no rooms, it was in the middle of an alley with a clothes store, art exhibition, music, skaters, rappers, graffiti artists." She says she was "so impressed [and] saw how community could be built." Years later, her own night is having a similar impact on others.

Error 102, a now-defunct club that was alive from 2020 through 2021, also helped pave the way for the current musical climate. Run by Nguyen Minh Ta (AKA Minoto), the venue's vibe matched its location in the nightlife district of Bui Vien–"dirty, loud, messy and chaotic," he describes. Error 102 was a space run by Vietnamese for Vietnamese, he notes. It enabled the development of artists like experimental DJ Puppy Ri0t and Larria, who represented Vietnam at Mixcloud's Worldwide Vibe event in March. Minoto, who moved from Vietnam to Germany with his parents as a child before returning in 2016, now runs a magazine called V2X that highlights Vietnamese youth culture and local nightlife. Alongside Tizone, he also runs the V2X Music Academy, a program that helps artists enter the music industry. "My work here is more in the background. I've been mentoring, motivating, pushing and sharing my experience," he says.

The Observatory, a club that effectively put Vietnam on the international music map, has also been a pivotal player. Founder Dan Bi Mong set up The Obs (as it's colloquially known) in 2013 and is credited for nurturing a wave of young artists interested in music, focusing on passion rather than technical skills. Gãy, V2X Music Academy, OBJoff, Liên Hoan (a crew co-run by Obs resident Park:ING) and Hanoi group METRØ, among many others, have all held takeovers there while residents such as Kin learned to DJ while working at the venue. Now a pillar of Vietnam's underground, The Obs and Savage in Hanoi show the strength of community. By providing a space for emerging artists to flourish, they are critical investors in the country's cultural economy.

Saigon is now on the precipice of discovering its definitive sound. As the scene and its artists continue to evolve and connect with regional collectives like Hong Kong's Absurd TRAX and Shanghai's Genome 6.66Mpb, the future looks bright. But for now, "we know our energy, we know our spirits, and this is what matters," sums up Anh Phi.

Error 102 and V2X Magazine founder Minoto