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#let indigenous girls have this character and stop telling them that their femininity is bad or stereotypical
justanisabelakinnie · 5 months
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You. I’d like to shake your hand. You understand. You GET it. You are my new favorite person!
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thesinglesjukebox · 4 years
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HOàNG THUỳ LINH - Để Mị NóI CHO Mà NGHE
[6.43]
Adesh brings us a viral V-pop hit and schools us at the same time.
Adesh Thapliyal: Mark Greif points out that what appears to be sexual liberation is often sexual liberalization: the transfiguration of sexuality -- which, in pre-modern thought, was something everyone had in roughly equal amounts -- into a market that some people possess in excess (the rich, the beautiful) and some people need to purchase to possess (makeup, clothing, cologne). Contemporary V-pop songs like "Mời Anh Vào Team Em" or "Đi Đu Đưa Đi" reflect this with their increasingly frank expression of women's sexuality paired with increasingly conspicuous product placement of luxury brands. While this isn't unambiguously a bad thing, it's hard to ignore how that sexual expression is limited to certain kinds of women (thin, pale, young). V-pop singer Hoàng Thùy Linh is well-positioned to comment on this trend: she's been probing the dimensions of Vietnamese femininity since the beginning of her career, first by dropping singles that pulled from Lady Gaga and Britney Spears, then pivoting to folk-EDM fusion exploring goddess imagery. But it was only in this year's viral hit "Để Mị Nói Cho Mà Nghe" (roughly, "Let Miss Mi Tell You,") that Thùy Linh found the conceptual maypole she could wrap all her ideas around. The song's title refers to the classic literary character Miss Mi (pulled out of the schoolbook staple "The A-Phu Couple,") who abandons her husband, who she was forced to marry, for the man she really loves. Over a trop-pop beat that puns on Vietnamese folk music (that pan flute may as well be a sáo), Thùy Linh reimagines Miss Mi as a contemporary Hanoi girl who lives to party, gently disobey her parents, and break boys' hearts. But Thùy Linh's vision of the nightclub lifestyle isn't predicated on causing FOMO in her listeners: her friendly village-girl-in-the-big-city persona collapses the division between Westernization/sexual freedom and tradition/sexual repression. Thùy Linh points out that sexual freedom isn't an un-Vietnamese good that needs to be bought alongside Chanel belts and Android smartphones: indigenous women like Miss Mi have been pushing boundaries all along. What stops the track from devolving into a lecture is Thùy Linh's winsome vocal delivery. Just listen to how her voice soars on the sugary pre-chorus! [9]
Ian Mathers: The intro is lovely and then they keep more and more touches... at first, in the middle section, it seems like they've finally overegged the mix (although whatever traditional instrument they keep in the back is still compelling). But once they pull back a little it still works and then when they add more digital touches at the end it actually finally feels like a good hybrid of styles. Repeat listens and that middle still feels slightly off-balance to me, but the rest is getting lodged deep in there. [7]
Katherine St Asaph: It's a small, small world: No matter where you go, you can always find Marshmello. [3]
Ryo Miyauchi: A very digital, kitchen-sink future-house beat is the vehicle for a traditionalist romance narrative about village boys and family expectations. The pop juxtaposition is stunning enough, but what shines brightest is the timelessness of the titular line, a key piece of dialogue that kick starts a previous love story of any era. [7]
Michael Hong: The opening is a lilting spring breeze complete with the flowing petals and chirping birds that gradually morphs into its own tropical rhythm without losing its distinct identity. Instead, thanks to the instrumentation and Hoàng Thuỳ Linh's spirited vocals, the track feels like a combination of her Vietnamese identity and its own escapist fantasy. There are elements that could be smoothed out, including the overpowering beat on the chorus and her rather awkward rap, but "Để Mị Nói Cho Mà Nghe" stands as one of the best fusions of an artist's distinct cultural identity and the heavily pervasive trop-pop sound this year. [7]
Will Adams: A pretty, well-sung verse that unfortunately gives way to the kind of future bass drop that soundtracks a YouTuber's travel vlog. [5]
Edward Okulicz: Oh, the gorgeous, satisfying diphthongs of Vietnamese! I love them, they're made for melodic swoops and glides, and here they are. The flute/drop combination is a novelty that I'd be sick of if I'd heard it in 200 other songs, but I haven't, so I'm that idiot tourist in a foreign land gasping at everything. [7]
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