Vong

Black Metal
Hanoi
Born from Hanoi’s forgotten graves and ghost-laden streets, Vong is a deeply introspective black metal project channeling Vietnamese folk mysticism, communal grief, and ancestral memory into a stark, haunting ritual of sound and silence.

Thành viên:

Indigo Tongue

Vong emerged not with fanfare, but as a spectral presence, an echo born from Hanoi’s forgotten corners, soaked in memory, myth, and mourning. The project was founded by the elusive figure known only as Indigo Tongue, who began conjuring soundscapes under this moniker in 2019. Vong is more than a band—it is a vessel for channeling history’s unhealed wounds, spiritual unrest, and ancestral grief through a distinctly Vietnamese black metal lens.

Unlike much of the extreme music coming out of Southeast Asia, Vong doesn’t chase grandeur or scene dominance. Its essence is rooted in subtle dread and quiet rage. The project draws inspiration from Vietnam’s haunted past, its unmarked graves, folk spirits, and centuries of communal trauma, interpreted through a black metal filter that leans more toward ritual than riot. The music is harsh and minimal, but deeply atmospheric, often described as a haunting lament more than an aggressive charge.

Vong’s debut demo “A Wander in Liminality” was first released on tape in 2019 via Norwegian label Analog Ragnarok and digitally through House of Ygra. It instantly caught the attention of a niche but devoted circle of listeners for its raw production, aching melodies, and visceral vocal delivery. The 2022 re-release of “A Wander in Liminality” as a full-length album expanded the sonic narrative, maintaining the lo-fi integrity of the original while reaching a wider audience with its meditative bleakness.

What makes Vong truly distinct is its approach to black metal as a form of spiritual expression. There are no theatrics, no grand declarations—just slow-burning incantations from the edge of existence. Indigo Tongue, its sole creator and performer, rarely appears publicly and keeps all communications cryptic, preserving the project’s mystique and prioritizing the message over the medium.

Live performances, if they happen at all, are rare and shrouded in mystery. Vong exists largely in recordings—ritual documents, not entertainment products—making each release a deeply personal and cultural artifact. There’s no presence on Spotify, a deliberate omission that aligns with the project’s ethos of remaining untethered from the algorithms of mass consumption.

By interweaving Vietnamese folk religion, funeral traditions, and minimalist black metal aesthetics, Vong paints a portrait of a land and psyche in mourning. It stands not as an act of defiance but as a whisper from the void, drawing you in not with spectacle but with sorrow.