Dean Van Nguyen

Dean Van Nguyen

Music Journalist & Cultural Critic

As seen in The Irish Times, The Guardian, Pitchfork, NME, Passion of the Weiss, The Independent, Wax Poetics etc. deanvannguyen@gmail.com

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Evol article
Clash Music

Future: EVOL

Future is wounded. It’s the kind of hurt that could launch a thousand ships and blow a thousand bags. Open cuts that can’t be healed by endless lurid sex or a bottomless Styrofoam cup. Nayvadius is a hollowed-out shell trying to fill the space inside with the fruits of his own opulence. Like so many damaged artists before him, the studio has provided some refuge. Champagne and promethazine are the fuel. And still he sees the darkness. This is a poor impression of a man who is OK.

Black market deluxe article
Clash Music

Rick Ross: Black Market

Is Rick Ross a changed man? For years he's been the personification of how keeping it real need not be a prerequisite for those wanting a chair at rap's head table. Rozay made his private jet ascent to superstardom on sky-scraping, yacht-cruising coke rap, telling Tony Montana stories on an Alejandro Sosa scale. Not even a revealed history in law enforcement could derail the rise and rise – his conjured narratives were easy to swallow when the packaging came so dazzlingly overblown.

Doom1 article
Clash Music

DOOM - Live At The Button Factory, Dublin

One must approach a DOOM show with a level of apprehension. After all, Daniel Dumile’s reputation as a live artist has been marred over the years by a string of no-shows, last minute demands on organisers and imposters sent to perform in his famous metal mask. Even his only previous Dublin appearance was somewhat soured by lateness, broken visuals and an odd prop DJ who stood behind a set a decks for the entire set, but never once touched them.

Cale article
Clash Music

John Cale - Live At The Button Factory, Dublin

There’s no supporting act at The Button Factory tonight so John Cale’s 8.45pm entrance on stage takes the whole room by surprise. There’s no mistaking the former Velvet Underground man though. Sporting a shock of white hair and fetching grey, plaid jacket, the 70 year old does stand out in a crew. “Nice to see ya,” he says to the crowd in his polite, Welsh twang before taking his spot at his keyboard, opening with the fluttering keys of ‘Captain Hook’, an elongated three-part blockbuster with huge blues guitar riffs, inventive drum fills and grand vocals that don’t kick in until half way through the ten-minute-plus jam.