Once known for their chaotic crossover thrash sound and equally chaotic stage presence (yes, the Pikachu outfits), Cút Lộn have returned with a release that is nothing short of a complete metamorphosis. Their latest full-length album, “Bắc Thảo”, drops the theatrics in favor of pure, unfiltered heaviness—and in doing so, elevates them to a new tier within Vietnam’s underground scene.
This isn’t just a sonic change—it’s an aesthetic and emotional shift. Where older material exploded with punky playfulness and tongue-in-cheek energy, “Bắc Thảo” is serious, dark, and deeply visceral. It feels like the band has taken all the adrenaline from their early days and redirected it inward, exploring grief, rage, and existential weight through jagged riffage and suffocating atmosphere.
From Thrash Punk to Post-Metalcore Chaos
Cút Lộn’s earlier releases were fast, fun, and frenetic—a cocktail of punk and thrash with an unmistakable attitude. But “Bắc Thảo” represents a conscious departure from that formula, steering the band into territory that echoes early 2000s American metalcore, especially the likes of Converge, Botch, or Modern Life Is War. You can hear it in the dissonant guitar tones, the way songs collapse into themselves only to rise again in chaos, and the emotional volatility in every track.
But what sets Cút Lộn apart is how they localize these influences. The album isn’t a carbon copy of Western post-hardcore or metalcore. It’s rooted in something rawer, maybe even more desperate. Whether intentional or not, “Bắc Thảo” taps into a uniquely Vietnamese tension—balancing tradition with rebellion, joy with devastation.
The New Voice – Emotional Outpour
A major catalyst for this transformation is the addition of new vocalist Vui Qá, whose performance is one of the standout elements of the entire album. Where previous vocalists delivered fury and speed, new vocalist brings emotional complexity, throat-ripping screams, and moments of bleak spoken-word intensity.
His delivery isn’t about technical prowess; it’s about feeling every syllable. The anguish and frustration in his voice don’t feel performative—they feel lived-in, like someone processing trauma in real time. Whether he’s screaming into the void or whispering through clenched teeth, you’re right there with him, caught in the middle of the storm.
Highlights from the Bắc Thảo
While “Bắc Thảo” is best experienced in full—its pacing, tone, and atmosphere work like a continuous narrative—several tracks stand out as emotional and sonic peaks:
- “Ngặt” opens like a nightmare and never lets up. There’s a sense of suffocation baked into the rhythm, a controlled collapse that mirrors the song’s title.
- “Chúc Em” might be the closest the album gets to something “anthemic,” but even then, it’s drenched in dread. The riffs are sharp, the tempo is punishing, and the breakdowns hit like regret you can’t shake off.
- “Cà Phê Sáng” is a textural shift, a mood piece that plays with space, dissonance, and unconventional pacing. It might be the album’s most experimental moment—something between a dream and a panic attack.
- “Trói” closes things with a sense of eerie finality. The melodies don’t comfort—they haunt. It’s a fitting end to a record that feels more like an emotional spiral than a collection of tracks.
Self-Made Destruction
One of the most remarkable aspects of “Bắc Thảo” is that it was entirely self-produced, with guitarist Quang handling all engineering and production duties. This gives the album a unique sonic identity—raw, uncompromising, and completely untethered from the overly polished sheen of modern hardcore.
The mix is gritty, but never messy. The drums feel alive, not quantized. The guitars are sharp and unrelenting. There’s a physicality to the sound that you don’t often get unless the people behind the console are also the ones bleeding on the track.
In an era where many bands outsource every part of their production, Cút Lợn’s DIY ethos is not just refreshing—it’s necessary.
A New Chapter for Vietnamese Heavy Music
What “Bắc Thảo” proves is that Cút Lộn isn’t just a local hardcore band playing fast riffs in small rooms. They’re a serious force, capable of standing toe-to-toe with their international peers—and they’ve done it on their terms.
In the context of Vietnam’s ever-growing heavy music scene, this record feels like a landmark. It shows what happens when a band takes creative risks, evolves without losing their identity, and trusts their instincts. It’s a reminder that the underground here is not just alive—it’s mutating, maturing, and breaking through walls.
From Ho Chi Minh City to Hanoi and beyond, there’s a rising tide of heavy bands that aren’t afraid to sound like themselves. “Bắc Thảo” is both a warning and a celebration. It’s the sound of a band burning down their past and building something terrifying and beautiful in its place.
Final Thoughts
Cút Lộn’s “Bắc Thảo” is a career-defining release—and easily one of our favorite records of 2024. It’s devastating, precise, emotionally charged, and impossible to ignore. Whether you’re a long-time follower of the Vietnamese scene or someone stumbling upon this band for the first time, make no mistake: this isn’t just noise.
This is a band reimagining what hardcore can sound like in 2024. And we’re lucky to witness it.
Rating: 9/10
