Vpop chicks nowadays are like imported sport rides. Each needs to get supped up with at least a set of rims and an occasional rear spoiler in order to be in the club. Not too many appreciate their manufactured features the way Vy, a recent pop star from Van Son Entertainment, does. She may not be blessed with fats in the right places, but she works with what she has. I enjoy some of her video performances. Her reminiscent of Aaliyah doesn’t bother me since someone has to take on the stature of the Queen of the Damned.
With a lovely face, groovy steps, and eccentric attire, Vy fits into the mold of Vietnamese pop culture; however, what sets Vy apart is her ability to express her own drama. Vy’s first solo, My Story, comes straight from her pen. Neither her lyrical skill nor her voice is at Mariah Carey’s level, but Vy could definitely articulate herself. The album opens with a fluster of gossips before Vy tells her side of the story about her pipe dream: “Once upon a time I was this young girl / Who had a love for the stage / Never wanted to be a doctor / or a layer to get paid / And now I am all grown up / Still doing what I love.” In “This Is Me,” she speeds up her flow over the physical-enhancing production to give us a bit more details about her: “I’m sweet and chic / And got a little naughtiness in me.” That’s good to know baby. Nothing is sexier than a good girl gone wild, and a little bit of naughtiness can always spike things up too.
Highlight of My Story is when Vy addresses the “Haterz.” The lyric is witty, the beat is catchy, but Vy’s voice is a bit understated. Yet, I have to give props to the girls on the intro for sounding just like two white-washed banana heads. The turning point of the album is when Vy becomes a “Lovaholic.” The worst hook is in “My Man.” The way she refrains—“my man, my man, my man… yeah…”—bugs the hell out me. To the point where I just want to scream out, “Enough of your man, fuck him.” To make shit worse, comes a lame-ass rap from Aposle Son whose stilted flow is no less infuriating. And just as I thought the torturing is over, “Doin’ to Me,” which comes right after “My Man,” continues to irritate my nerves with the sped-up sampling (a straight jack from Just Blaze’s production for Jay-Z’s “U Don’t Know”) of a high screeching voice crooning, “you don’t know what you’re doing to me baby.” Yes, I do. You’re killing my ears harshly with your sound, Gopinath.