Some people thrive under the bright lights. They want the attention. It matters to them. They want you to see them center stage, in all their glory. Others prefer moving in the shadows. They don’t want the attention. They prefer being on the outside, happy that the spotlight’s shining on someone else. Both groups are capable of great things. Whether you’re one or the other, however, is besides the question. What matters is that you know which type you are. Nothing is more freeing than this deep understanding of yourself.
When I first met Quan at Neo-, he performed the song "Sway" alongside singer mess as part of the release of 9Note Records’ mixtape, TIẾN LÊN. He spoke confidently before taking the stage, but I could tell instantly: being on stage is where Quan feels most like himself. When we met at his home studio the following week, he admitted that that was true. He is, in fact, part of that former group—those who thrive under the bright lights.
Yet for Quan, it isn't about a hunger for the spotlight or a craving for the world's attention. It’s deeper than that. "I want to be on stage because I know I belong there," he explains. "It matters to me.” He told me there is a phrase in Vietnamese for this kind of thing: "có số." It means to be destined for something. If you are "có số" to be an artist, the stage isn't just a choice; it’s your calling. For Quan, stepping into that light is about fulfilling a responsibility to a path that was mapped out for him long ago. This sense of destiny has followed him since he was a young kid, which is why we must travel back in time to where it all began: Hanoi.
Quan was raised in a family of art lovers. His mom is a successful actress in Vietnam, with a career spanning nearly four decades. His dad, though never working in the arts, is a huge fan of music, which informed Quan’s early love for the art form. They divorced when Quan was young, so he grew up splitting time between Hanoi, where his Dad lives, and Saigon, where his Mom lives. In the end, he spent more time living with his Dad who, as mentioned, planted the love of music in Quan’s heart.
It started with his Dad sharing all of his favorite vinyl records with the young Quan. Then, came his first iPod at six years old, followed by his first set of speakers at eight, and then many different kinds of instruments to try out as time went on—most notably his first guitar at around eleven, which he noted stirred a different kind of excitement in him. He started jamming out immediately, teaching himself songs using YouTube. Quan says the first song he learned to play was “Tears in Heaven” by Eric Clapton. He was so engrossed by the song and eager to learn that he got the chords down in two days! Pairing all that musical exposure at home with trips to concerts outside of Vietnam, including seeing Pink Floyd play in England, witnessing Eric Clapton perform in Singapore, and many others, it’s no wonder Quan has developed a deep passion and appreciation for the sound of music. That said, for him the connection goes beyond the sound.
“Growing up, I always knew that I was lucky,” he says. “A lot of people don’t consider it luck but my ancestors have been paving the path for me so if I don’t keep it going, all my luck will run out”. This sentiment of having inherited a type of blessed energy can be understood by another Vietnamese phrase, “vía”. Essentially, it’s a sense of possessing a strong, destined presence—in other words: you have that vía. It is the belief that one carries a spiritual importance that opens doors and draws people in. For Quan, having that 'vía' means his path was partially paved by those who came before him, but it also creates a sense of debt. Therefore, he doesn't just play for himself. He plays to honor his lineage. In his eyes, the spotlight isn't just a place to be seen, it's also where he can prove his worthiness of the luck he was born with.
Along with a love for the arts, he says his family has long emphasized the value of education, which is why Quan was sent to study in the United States in 10th grade. He left home for the city of Boston with nothing more than a suitcase, his guitar, and his mind made up that music was his destiny. That conviction, however, was quickly met with the reality of high school life—a world made up of distinct social camps where you were often forced to pick a lane.
Upon arrival, Quan found himself navigating a divide between the academic-focused students, the athletes, and the art kids. He initially found his footing on the basketball court—a sport he is still a big fan of today—while keeping his guitar close by. Eventually, the court gave way to the craft; he realized he couldn't let his guitar collect dust in the corner. Though his heart was firmly rooted in the raw, soulful world of the Blues, thanks to growing up with the records of B.B. King and D’Angelo, he quickly realized that to grow in this new environment, he needed to adapt. He joined the school’s jazz band where he could participate in competitions, broadening his music taste while spreading his wings around the city. Along with that, his school had a band that would air its performances over the intercom every Monday morning. Quan jumped at the opportunity. This allowed him to meet more people, improve his chops , and perhaps most importantly, solidify his identity as a musician. Though he was living thousands of miles away from his family, he was keeping the spirit of his vía alive.
Upon graduation, Quan enrolled in Boston University. His school happened to be a five minute drive away from the Berklee College of Music, the largest independent college of contemporary music in the U.S. Although he wasn’t part of a band actively making music during that time and mostly played by himself in his dorm room, he spent a lot of time hanging out in that area. Furthermore, Quan remembered there was a Guitar Center around there which proved to be a major hub for meeting other people who eat, sleep, and breathe music. That said, just as Quan was creating more relationships with other musicians, perhaps even on the verge of forming a band, the world came to a halt: Covid. A five-year stretch abroad came to an abrupt and definitive end when the pandemic hit, forcing Quan to return to Hanoi to finish his degree online.
With the world on pause, the transition back to Vietnam was a period of recalibration. He eventually found himself drawn to Saigon—initially following the call of a romance that had blossomed during that time. While that relationship eventually ended, his connection to the city only grew stronger. He had fallen in love with the energy of Saigon and made up his mind to stay. He eventually reunited with an old friend, Steven, who had recently returned from Washington D.C. Today, the two are roommates and creative partners, frequently performing live sets together—Steven behind the decks and Quan on guitar—while collaborating with a rotating cast of artists in their home studio.
Once the uncertainty of the pandemic years came undone, Quan knew he couldn't stay idle for long. More than that though, he specifically wanted to get back to making music. A month after he moved to Saigon, he boldly carved his way into Vietnam’s powerhouse production group: SpaceSpeakers. For Quan, he felt moving to Saigon took guts. The same goes for breaking into any industry, but he believed in his potential and the value he could provide if hired. As a result, he created space for himself in the company.
Fortune favors the bold, and in many cases, good fortune equals good timing. A month after Quan joined SpaceSpeakers, he got to work at Space Jam, the group’s annual flagship creative camp. That moment ended up being a huge turning point in Quan’s story. Space Jam is the ultimate proving ground for countless artists. It’s a music making bootcamp paired with a festival where members of SpaceSpeakers, as well as other outside rappers, singers, and instrumentalists, can meet and collaborate.
One day Touliver, SpaceSpeakers’ founder and head producer, noticed Quan playing the Blues on his guitar. It just so happens that around that time Vietnamese rapper Binz wanted to pivot and create a soulful, bluesy-EP. Touliver saw an opportunity and struck. He formed the band Nomovodka, which includes Quan as the guitarist, Ka as the bassist, Thien Minh as the violinist, and Touliver on the keys. They got to work right away on their first song.
Binz wrote the lyrics and composed the melody, while Quan and his fellow bandmates crafted the bluesy atmosphere to go with it. Roughly six months later, in October 2023, they released “Hit Me Up.” The track was a sophisticated blend of R&B, soul, and jazz instrumentation that introduced the world to Binz’s new alter-ego, Xuân Đan. The accompanying music video, featuring fashionista Châu Bùi, became a cinematic event in itself, layered with tributes to classics like The Shining, Singin' in the Rain, A Clockwork Orange, and Titanic. The song was a massive success, racking up millions of views overnight making it the #1 song in Vietnam across all major platforms.
It’s a rare thing to experience something like that—find your way into a big music label, quickly be put into a band, team up with a veteran artist, and go viral overnight. With that experience Quan noted just how much gratitude he feels towards the people around him. “I really owe a lot of my career to my mentors, specifically Touliver. A really important thing he taught me about music was doing it to fulfill your passion is fun, but if you want to turn into a career, now it’s a different story. It takes a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. It only rewards people who are really hard working.” Quan took his mentor’s wisdom to heart. It made him realize that if he wanted to progress he would have to make some compromises. He couldn’t afford to waste time. He had to resist all the surrounding temptations that make up a vibrant city like Saigon. To excel at a career in the arts is similar to excelling at most careers: there’s non stop grinding. However, that level of effort is something that has attracted Quan. After all, he grew up in a house of art lovers, and at that point now having tasted a bit of the spotlight and the work necessary to make things happen, he only wanted to keep pouring more of himself into his craft.
Building on the momentum of his time with SpaceSpeakers, Quan has recently begun a new chapter—one defined by a shift in creative focus. He is now moving in a direction that allows him to share his voice and his writing more than just his guitar riffs. To support this evolution, Quan has balanced his creative output with leaving the music label and taking on a new role at his family’s fashion company, Runway, in District 1. By day, he's a fashion enthusiast navigating the world of high-end aesthetics; by night, he uses that same discipline to focus on his own compositions. It is evidence of a pragmatic approach to a destiny he’s long felt calling him. Doing so ensures that when he creates, he does so with complete artistic freedom.
It requires a leap of faith to go independent, but for Quan, it is less of a gamble and more of an alignment. As he says, “I’ve been lost before, but I really know myself now and I know what I want.” While many chase the fleeting youth of their twenties, Quan is playing the long game. He’s twenty-seven years old now and sees himself playing music well into his 40s. From his perspective, he aims to break the common stereotype that people peak in their music career early on. Instead, he wants to replace that with the steady discipline of a craftsman. Beyond pursuing solo projects that feature him as both a singer and songwriter, Quan’s broader mission is to act as a pioneer in reviving the Blues in Vietnam. He plans to lean into writing and singing in English—a medium he’s more accustomed to after his years abroad—anticipating a market that will only continue to sprout and diversify over the next decade.
The thing is, whether it’s music or any other form of art, there’s a mountain of work one can’t get around in order to fully tap into the purity of one’s artistic expression. Thousands and thousands of hours must be dedicated. But Quan’s journey is an example that if you believe in yourself, believe you have the vía that's been passed down to you, believe you have the talent and the grit to make your dreams come true, then it’s only a matter of time. Better yet, if you’re someone like Quan—someone who knows themself on a deep level—the spotlight is a source of power. Its quest is one of clarity, not vanity. It is the realization that your talent is a gift to be shared, not a secret to be kept in the shadows. Nowadays, when you see Quan step on stage, guitar in hand, mic in front of him, rest assured you’re seeing someone who has fully embraced the type of person he is. He is built for the bright lights.
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