Lam Bao Ngoc: A musical universe named emotion

As a young artist, do you try to follow trends to meet the needs of the audience? Or do you have a consistent musical perspective for yourself? If so, what is it?

In truth, I’m no longer such a young artist. Compared to many Gen Z musicians, some of whom are ten years younger than me, I see myself as someone who’s spent enough time in the profession to recognise the importance of having a clear and consistent musical identity. My hope is that when people think of a particular genre, they will think of Lam Bao Ngoc as a trusted voice within it.

Over the past decade, the Vietnamese music scene has changed remarkably, and it’s young artists who have largely driven that shift. That in itself is encouraging, as it shows how Vietnamese music is gradually aligning with contemporary global sensibilities.

I often ask myself: should I remain faithful to the genre I’ve pursued over the last seven years, or is it time to refresh my style to reflect current musical directions? Since launching my career in 2017 after Sao Mai, the number of songs I’ve released remains modest. The genre I’ve chosen still has an audience, but in the current market, it’s no longer at the forefront.

My ambition is to remain in music for the long haul, and that means continually exploring new textures and expressions. To do that, I know I must evolve, not only to stay attuned to the pace of Vietnamese music’s development but also to connect with the creative outlook of the younger generation.

That said, I’m not someone who chases trends. What matters to me is creating music with enduring value, pieces that may not be an instant hit, but will resonate and remain relevant over time. I believe music can evolve and modernise while still holding on to its essence, becoming more refined and worldly, yet still standing strong.

As a famous singer in the entertainment industry, what are your requirements when looking for teammates to create new music products with?

In fact, it’s only recently that I’ve become more widely recognised by the public. That moment when someone sees me perform or appear somewhere and calls my name, it still feels surprisingly fresh. But in terms of my artistic journey, I’ve been working in this field for seven years. So when it comes to choosing collaborators, I do have fairly clear expectations.

First and foremost, any song I choose must truly suit my voice in terms of tone, vocal range and pronunciation. That’s essential if I’m to deliver the best possible performance. Second, those I work with musically should understand both the strengths and limitations of my voice, so they can bring out what’s unique in me while providing support where it’s needed. Third, the visual team, especially the music video director, must grasp the spirit I aim to express and help refine the visual narrative in ways I may not be able to envision myself.

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A music video should not only reflect the artist’s identity but also speak to the audience’s aesthetic. Fourth, the PR and social media team also play a crucial role. I want them to fully understand the image I want to build: an artist who focuses on her music rather than creating noise around it. I aim for sincerity and professionalism, I want listeners to engage with the songs, not be distracted by what surrounds them.

To me, teamwork is not just about skill, but also connection and trust. That’s why my collaborators and I often take time to meet and talk beyond the professional setting so we can better understand one another. I truly believe that a great music product stems from a team in harmony, where everyone lifts each other up rather than competes for the spotlight, allowing the whole to feel balanced and complete.

Every artist has messages and stories they wish to share with their audience. For Bao Ngoc, what message do you hope to convey?

I hope my audience can always maintain a genuinely positive spirit. There are those who believe they are living optimistically, but in truth, it’s a kind of forced positivity that doesn’t stem from a place of self-acceptance or true understanding. What I want to express is a positivity that comes from sincerity, from being able to see life from many angles and to find joy in the little things.

This is also reflected in my music. Although I mostly sing ballads, a genre often associated with sadness, I always strive for an open ending. Happiness, to me, isn’t necessarily a perfect destination, but rather a sense of contentment with oneself. Sometimes, happiness is simply knowing that the road ahead still lies open, that we have another chance to continue our journey. There may be regrets, but there is no need for remorse.

Beyond music, are there any social causes you’re drawn to? Are there areas where you’d like to contribute, such as mental health, inspiring young people to pursue the arts, or initiatives supporting women? If given the opportunity to lead a community-focused project, what would you most like to do to give music a deeper meaning beyond its artistic value?

Over the years, I’ve always tried to take part in musical initiatives for the community—from Laughter Vietnam and It’s Time to Eat to The Journey of Leaves and other motivational songs. I hope these works do more than offer comfort during challenging times; I hope they become a source of strength for those in need of emotional support.

I truly believe in the power of music to heal and connect. But sharing that belief requires more than intention. It calls for real effort. I may not have the financial means to support large-scale projects, but I do have my voice and a sincere passion for music. That’s how I choose to stand with the community: by encouraging, by sharing, and by offering inspiration for a more hopeful way of living.

For young people who wish to pursue the arts, I don’t feel the need to offer grand words of encouragement. Instead, I hope that my journey can speak for itself. Creating art is far from easy, but with real passion and commitment, there is so much happiness to be found along the way.

If ever I have the chance to be part of a community-driven project, I would embrace it wholeheartedly. I want to join hands with musicians, organisations, and social initiatives where music is not just an art form, but also a vessel for emotion, hope, and meaningful change.

Lam Bao Ngoc, what would you most like to do to give music more meaning beyond artistic value?

To me, music is not only art. It’s also harmony, a way for people to come together and share something true. I believe that music can have a profound emotional effect: when it rains, a melancholy tune might stir memories; in times of hardship, an uplifting melody might offer strength.

While music can’t resolve every challenge we face, it can still provide solace and support. When our spirit is calmed, when the heart feels less burdened, we often find the courage to move forward. I hope that my music, beyond its artistic merit, can offer encouragement, a comforting presence, a reminder that no one is truly alone on their journey.

Working in the entertainment industry brings immense pressure from the workload to public expectations, doesn’t it? Many artists struggle with mental health, particularly depression. Does facing that reality mean sacrificing your passion for art?

Absolutely. In the beginning, when you have only a few followers, the attention can be uplifting. But once your audience grows into the millions, the weight of expectation becomes impossible to ignore. Artists aren’t just performers, we’re often seen as role models, sources of inspiration, even emotional anchors for the public. That kind of responsibility demands a heightened awareness in how we speak, how we act, and how we carry ourselves.

No one can go through life without making mistakes. But for me, what matters most is to remain grounded, to live sincerely, and to place artistic integrity above all else. I don’t want to sound overly moralistic, I simply try to live in a way that’s honest, compassionate, and connected to others. What I hope to express doesn’t always need to be said outright: if my music can move someone, can make them feel my sincerity and passion, then that’s what truly matters.

Did going through that experience help you understand what’s most important, and did it inspire you to become more involved in mental health causes?

When I meet people struggling with psychological pain, I truly empathise, because I’ve been there myself. It isn’t a matter of not trying hard enough. On the contrary, those facing such challenges are often the ones who’ve made the greatest effort not to give up. But the mind is powerful, and without the right support, it can easily overwhelm even the strongest of spirits.

I sincerely hope to have the chance to support those who are facing mental health difficulties, whether it’s pressure, anxiety or depression. Because I’ve experienced it firsthand, I understand how even the simplest words can carry a heavy weight. Phrases like “Keep trying” or “Just hold on a bit longer” may come with good intentions, but they can sometimes feel like added pressure. If I can offer comfort, I’d rather it come from a place of deep understanding and empathy.

For those who cannot talk to me in person, I sing. I believe music has the power to connect, to console, to create a moment where someone feels seen, even without a conversation. And I truly believe that more and more artists are beginning to care about the mental wellbeing of their audiences. We, perhaps more than anyone, understand that music is not just something to be enjoyed—it can also be a form of healing.

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