For anyone still unfamiliar, Mèow Lạc is one of those bands that quietly defy easy categorisation. Formed in Hanoi, the trio’s music pulls from alternative rock at its core but refuses to stay there. Stretching into pop hooks, funk grooves, ‘80s K-rock melodrama, flashes of hardcore aggression, and moments that feel almost deliberately sentimental. On paper, it sounds unruly. In practice, it works wonders because the band understands both restraint and excess. Every left turn feels intentional.
That sense of identity has been sharpened across years of releases and live shows, most recently with “Sugar Rush,” released in 2023, an album that leans fully into contrast: sweet melodies rubbing against jagged riffs, humour coexisting with sincerity. Sugar Rush Encore is the name the band used for a few shows already, but it’s their first-ever performance of this format in Saigon. This night was both a celebration and a bridge, doubling as a soft crowdfunding effort toward their upcoming third LP, much like the Hanoi edition held months earlier.
Saigon, After Almost Two Years
Despite a strong following in Ho Chi Minh City, Mèow Lạc haven’t had many chances to perform there. Distance, logistics, life—familiar obstacles for any Vietnam-based band operating between cities. That made this show feel overdue. Tone Lab, better known nationally as a high-end music equipment vendor, opened up its Saigon space, and what became immediately clear was that this room deserves a reputation beyond gear. It is, quite simply, one of the best-sounding spaces in the city.
The show filled the room with ease. Intimate in scale but electric in energy, it was the kind of crowd that listens as hard as it moves. As the band walked through much of “Sugar Rush,” gave a hint of what’s to come, sprinkled some hits from the past, so the atmosphere shifted constantly. One moment: heads down, nodding in unison. The next: bodies bouncing, mosh pits forming and dissolving just as quickly.
This fluidity mirrors the band itself. Each member comes from a different musical background, with tastes that don’t obviously align. But years of commitment to this project have given them a shared language. Styles blur, but the voice remains unmistakably theirs.
Honesty, Jokes, and “One More Song”
Near the end of the set, the band paused. An intermission of sorts. The audience was invited to sit down and catch their breath. Ambient piano tones filled the room as Nguyên Lê spoke openly, casually about what this band means to him, about the fans, the scene, and the unexpected ways Saigon’s hardcore community has shaped his writing and sense of arrangement. It wasn’t a speech but more of a conversation, punctuated by jokes, side comments from bandmates, and playful exchanges with Bomb, Saigon’s beloved sound engineer, who even joined in vocally during one song.
Then came the final push. The last stretch of the set wrung every remaining ounce of energy from the room, culminating, as tradition demands, with “One More Song.” A self-aware, tongue-in-cheek closer that skips the pretense of leaving the stage and waiting for an encore. Mèow Lạc call themselves out, lean into the joke, and invite everyone to sing along. Everyone does.
By the end, the room was full of smiles, sweaty, tired, and satisfied. There’s something reassuring about seeing a band this confident in its own versatility, this comfortable trusting its audience to follow wherever it goes next. If Sugar Rush Encore proved anything, it’s that support for original music here isn’t abstract. It’s tangible. And now… We wait for the next Mèow Lạc chapter to arrive.
