50 Cent has been acting crazy lately, and he gets worse when his sophomore album, The Massacre, is about to drop. He is not only beefing with other rappers, but also with his own man, the Game, as well. Because of the pressures he is facing with, his paranoia is explainable. If I were in his position, I would feel the same. Two years ago, he was on top of the game. His debut Get Rich or Die Tryin’ sold eleven million copies. When an artist sells that much, the expectation is much higher. Can 50 live up to it?

The good news is The Massacre has plenty of hot beats for 50 to ride on. From the delightful jazz groove (“In My Hood”) to the clubbing Indian-inflected (“Just a Lil Bit”), he spins on these beats as smooth as the chrome rims on his Benz. Like his mentor Eminem, he sings almost all the hooks (twenty out of twenty-two tracks). Unlike Em, however, he sounds more matured and professional. His thick and slightly raucous voice helps tremendously. His delivery is both effortless and intricacy. His flow is as passionate as the song requires, and his style is switching on nearly every track. The collaboration with Em on “Gatman and Robbin'” is a delicious duo. They fashioned an artfully constructed style that has not been heard before.

Although the beat, flow, and delivery are exceptional, the missing piece of the puzzle is the lyrical content, which is as dried as the desert. When he is not foul mouthing on Nas, Fat Joe, Shyne, and Jadakiss (“Piggy Bank”), he either swaggers on his gangsta life (“I am suppose to Die Tonight”) or disrespects women (“Get in My Car”). After spitting on girls, he makes a three-point-turn and rhymes his sweet thugging heart out on “A Baltimore Love Thing,” where he spits “Girl, I’m missing you, come and see me soon / Tie your arm up, put that lighter under that spoon / Now put that needle to your arm princess, stick it in.” Unfortunately, only a few good lines like that come through on the album. In addition, he recycles same words over and over again. How many times does he say the word “Teflon” and “hollow tips?”

50 Cent probably did not want to, but he set standards so high that he himself can’t reach, and he knows it. Even though he hides it by sounding like not breaking a sweat on the tracks, his forceful laughter shows it all. The Massacre may not be able to break through eleven million, but the clubbing beats and the playful performance will guarantee the platinum numbers. The weight is heavy, but at least he takes it off his shoulders.

After releasing several ridiculous DVD, Hoa Bien productions are finally catching on. Their latest music and comedy video Yeu Nguoi Say (Love the Drunker) is viewable with the mix of singers in Viet Nam and US. Despite the foolish topic (liquor) and the silly host (I am tired of watching Chi Tai), the video provides some entertaining contents.

The song that jumps out at me is Jimmy J.C Nguyen’s “Niem Dau Chom Ha.” He is one rare Vietnamese artist who can write and sing equally well. This song showcases his new style, which is refreshing, reviving, and very “Hue.” His flow is exceptional and his lyric is beautiful. I am sure Quang Linh will cop this song in the near future.

Ngo Thanh Van surprises me with her vocal improvements compare to a year ago when her second album Bi An Van Trang dropped. She’s hot and she has the groove, but her style is uneven on the video. She looks cute in some outfits but discord in others. Her dancers are even worse. Their styles are in between puck-rock and hip-hop, but their moves are not so bad. Together they rocked the video.

Glad to see Thuy Duong’s back. Her voice is incredible on “Tinh Lo” even though her pronunciation of the “th” (thoi) and “dd” (doi) is a bit strange. Thanh Truc pulls off Trinh Cong Son’s “Nhu Canh Vat Bay” adequately. She would sound much better if she could control her breath. Thu Phuong’s performance on “Chen Dang” is pleasurable although Dam Vinh Hung’s version is more expressive.

“Ve Day Thoi Em Hoi” is lyrically inspiring but the video does not articulate the song to its fullest. Tinh production would have captured the song much better. Dam Vinh Hung’s sentiment is honestly delivered. In contrast, his performance with Hong Ngoc on “Lien Khuc Duong Xa Uoc Mua” isn’t quite captivating. Hong Ngoc looks like a Vietnamese version of Da Brat back in the “Funkdafied” days with her braided hair, loose shirt, and baggy jeans.

Rebecca Quynh Giao and Quynh Anh are blazing in the sexy Japanese customs that show off their cleavages on “Say.” Especially Rebecca, she is irresistible. Keep on shaking them thangs, ma!

When the production toned Nguyen Huy down to his age, he is a cute and talented kid. He’s no longer a little pimp, but a “Tieu Hoang Phi Hung” (a little Kung Fu fighter). Although the flying on water and the fighting scenes are filmed with special effects, he has the skill and the charisma to pull them off. Not only that, he can also acts. His performance with Hoai Linh and Thuy Muoi on the skit “Yeu Nguoi Say” is plausible.

Hoa Bien productions have learned from their mistakes and taken away many controversial issues. Luckily, they haven’t taken away the models. I don’t care what people say, but beautiful faces do add something nice to the video. I also must give Hoa Bien props for filming both places (Viet Nam and US). The expenses must be incredibly high. Keep up the good work.

On the desirable Da Khuc Nguyen Dinh Phung, Tuan Ngoc and Thai Hien calm our minds with their vocals and Duy Cuong sooths our souls with his musical arrangements even though the nocturne music takes us a while to get into. Unfortunately, their latest efforts on Ao Mong (Romantic Ballads of Nguyen Dinh Phung) are not too successful. The singings are beyond relax and the arrangements are above quiet. I gave the album plenty of time (twice as much as the previous one) to grow on me, but nothing happens. I still am unable to feel the vibe.

On the first two tracks (“Nhu Tinh Mai Tinh Khoi” and “Mai Em Ve Da Lat”), Tuan Ngoc holds on to the notes too long. He stresses the words too much to match up with the classical chords. The result is unanimated and tedious. The CD-closer “Thien Than Toc Trang Canh Mau Xanh” picks up the tempo a tiny bit with the waltz tune. He does not sound as stretchy, but the music still does not come to life.

Thai Hien is equally tiresome. Her clear but slow and slightly breathy delivery on “Dan Voi Gio Mua” and “Coi Troi Dat La” is more depressing than enchanting. Duy Cuong’s arrangements do not help much. The beats are either too subtle or are not presence at all. For instance, on “Tram Nhanh Song Chia,” I wish he turned up the drums just a notch.

The poems featured on Ao Mong are beautiful, but the drawback is the way Nguyen Dinh Phung transports them into music. The melodies are too passive and subdued. Listeners who are acquainted with classical music might find the album enjoyable. As for me, I am more of a jazz and hip-hop head.

Never judge an album by its cover. As a visual guy, I find that principle is hard to follow. I believe that first impression is better than no impressions at all. An album cover should at least give the audience a sense of the work before they make the purchase. The design of Y Biec (Nguyen Dinh Phung’s music) looks like someone who just learned new Photoshop effects and puts his or her tricks to work. The layout is incoherent, the use of types is ineffective, and let’s not going into the background and bevel effects. The visual says nothing about the work. Could it be that the designer doesn’t immerse into the music?

Y Biec is not an easy listening album. Nguyen Dinh Phung music doesn’t seize listeners immediately, but the strength lies in a study in subdued, soothing colors, gorgeous harmonies, and cascades of pure melody. Like a slow-cooking process, the compositions marinate gradually into the listeners’ hearts. Once they are fully absorbed, the experience is rejuvenating.

The album featured three distinguished vocalists and a sonic mastermind. Tuan Ngoc, Thai Hien, and Vu Khanh are at their best on the performances (each covers three tracks), and Duy Cuong is as amazing as always with his soft and sensuous arrangements. Despite what the poor CD cover design might suggest, together they have created a rich level of chamber-music. The best part is the varieties each singer brings to the work. While Tuan Ngoc delivers his calmness qualities on “Sau Y Biec,” Thai Hien flows her illusionary aesthetics on “Hanh Ngo,” and Vu Khanh holds the dynamic steady on “Thanh Pho Thien Than.”

As a master of fine-tuning producer, Duy Cuong caters his sounds to blend in with the vocalist styles. For the cool-under-pressure Tuan Ngoc, Duy Cuong allows tiny fluctuations in his instruments to carry the emotional weight, noticeably on “Mua Dong Hong Van No.” For the pitch-perfect Thai Hien, he wants listeners to hear the particulars, even when the chord weaves in and out of the singing on “Vo Dinh.” The technique is so subtle that the instrumental and the vocals have become an integral, indivisible part of the composition. For the forceful Vu Khanh, he lets the voice to be the essence. “Nhung Loi Nghin Trung” is a vocal driven track, but the beat changes in the background are interesting from slow ballad to jazz.

With Nguyen Dinh Phung’s poetic lyrics, Duy Cuong’s brilliant sounds, and vocalists’ meticulous deliveries, Y Biec is an album I reach for over and over, as if it were a pack of cigarettes, especially when insomnia strikes. Sleep is not something I do well these days, and it seems to get worse as I am approaching the three-zero territory; therefore, slow, relax, and unwind music is my best companion.

Dinh Ngoc is Asia Entertainment’s latest protégé. Unlike most of Asia’s shining stars such as Lam Nhat Tien, Thanh Truc, and Cardin, he is added to the roster to attract more matured listeners. Based on his songs selection on Tinh Khuc Mua Dong, an album released under his label (Dinh Ngoc Productions) and produced by Duy Cuong, he seems to have a clear direction of where he wants to go. The path he has chosen is a smart one because he faces less competition, but the few challengers he’s battling are hard to conquer.

Right off the bat, he is up against Khanh Ha on Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Mot Doi Quen Lang.” The down side is that Duy Cuong recycles the arrangements on both performances. Same beat different vocal makes the comparison even more obvious. Dinh Ngoc’s version is good, but Khanh Ha experienced vocal manipulation leaves him out in the cold.

It gets worse when he covers Trinh Cong Son’s “Nho Mua Thu Ha Noi,” which is one of Tuan Ngoc’s signature pieces. Again, similar arrangement different voice, and Tuan Ngoc’s intricate phrasing and his detail to each word shred Dinh Ngoc’s performance into confetti.

Beside his charming voice, he does nothing new to the aged romantic ballads. He hardly pushes the arrangements, and his steady delivery doesn’t help either. The only time he sounds dynamic is on Pham Trong’s “Mua Thu Khong Tro Lai.” Fortunately, he is backed up by one of the deftest producers in the game. Duy Cuong helps drive Dinh Ngoc’s performance with a pounding beat on Pham Duy’s “Nghin Nam Van Chua Quen.”

Dinh Ngoc has not given enough reasons for listeners to root for him. He needs more drama and passion in his delivery if he wants to go far. Taking the road that is less traveled does not mean he is on a smooth expedition. He still has a long and bumpy ride ahead of him.

“Ready to Die, Reasonable Doubt, and Doggystyle in one.” Dream on, Game. The Documentary is solid, but far away from being a classic. With a portfolio of today’s finest hip-hop producers including Dr. Dre, Kanye West, Just Blaze, and Timbaland behind the tracks, the production is impressive, but Game’s lyrical skills aren’t deep enough to reach his legends.

Following Tupac Shakur’s footsteps, Game skips the flamboyant flow and cuts straight to the bone. Unfortunately, he only scratches the surface, whereas Pac went all the way to the heart, but that doesn’t mean he cannot deliver. He sounds honest and sincere on “Start From Scratch,” and convincing when he spits, “Homie if I could make ’94 today / I tell Eazy and Dre to bring back NWA.”

Though Game carries the thug’s image just like the rest of his G-Unit crew, he does not sound as cocky as 50 Cent, as misogynistic as Cam’ron, or as flashy as Jay-Z. Instead of rapping about ice, rims, and hoes over and over again, he speaks out his mind on the title track “The Document.” The way his chorus plays off the classics album is clever – “I’m Ready to Die without a Reasonable Doubt / smoke Chronic and hit Doggystyle before I go out / until they sign my Death Certificate / All Eyez On Me / I’m still at it, Illmatic / and that’s The Documentary.”

On the flip side, the album sounds more frivolous than serious, especially with 50 featured on “How We Do” and “Hate It or Love It.” The style switching sounds smooth between the two on “How We Do” and Dre makes the club beat pumping. While Kanye drops a blazing beat on “Dreams,” Eminem flops on “We Ain’t.” The track sounds like the sequel 50’s “Patiently Waiting,” but out of tune. Em kills himself and the Game on his own beat – no pun intended.

Although The Documentary is not a magnum opus, the album has some sparks. Game offers a satisfactory debut with potential for improvements. His references throughout his lyrics prove that he has indeed studied the classics. Keep on learning, keep on dreaming of making a masterpiece , but stop dreaming of “fucking the R&B bitch.”

I must thank Duy Cuong for the luminous Tro Ve Mai Nha Xua (Back to Sorriento) album. I am not thanking him for his remarkable musical talent, but for introducing me to the sweet, soulful, and sensuous voice of Thien Phuong. Although her name is unfamiliar to me, I picked up the record anyway because the credit reads, “Produced, arranged, and mixed by Duy Cuong.” Any recording with his name on it, I can reassure that the musical arrangements are top-notch. The only questioning is the vocalist. Can she drive the arrangements?

As soon as Thien Phuong kicks off the first few bars on Trinh Cong Son’s “Chi Con Ta Trong Doi,” my worries are gone. She not only can sing well, but also is matured in handling Trinh’s materials. She is in control of her phrasing, breathing, and delivering. Through her unrestrained and unforced voice, she connects to Trinh’s music. Her elegant interpretation blows soft air into his “Loi Thien Thu Goi” and “Hay Yeu Nhau Di.”

Normally, I don’t pay attention to translated songs, but Pham Duy is a master of music translation, and he does it with passion and precision. “Chu Nhat Buon” is his translation of Seress Rejso’s “Sombre Dimanche.” The rumor is that someone had committed suicide after listening to this song. I am not sure if that is true, but I do feel tremendous despondency when hearing Thien Phuong performs. Likewise, the title track “Tro Ve Mai Nha Xua,” also translated by Pham Duy from E. Curtiss’s “Back to Sorriento,” provides listeners a sentimental experience through the soothing classical chord and mellow groove. The lyrics speak to those who were tired of the war, and dreamed of returning to their normal life. Thien Phuong makes sure to get the message across by offering attention to each note and each rest.

Thien Phuong is consistent throughout the album. Her singing on Le Uyen Phuong’s “Bai Ca Hanh Ngo” is as natural as living, and she flows effortlessly inside Duy Cuong’s gorgeous beats. On Vu Thanh An’s “Bai Khong Ten So 3,” her timbre is fresh with an ethereal, persuading quality that stands out by itself. She breathes life into Hoang Quoc Bao’s “Xuan Thanh Danh Giac Mong Thuong,” soaks her soul into Nguyen Van Dong’s “Nho Mot Chieu Xuan,” and pours her heart out on Pham Manh Cuong’s “Nuoc Mat Tren Phim Dan,”

Tro Ve Mai Nha Xua is no doubt a masterpiece. The album showcases the dynamic of true vocal and musical talent. This is a timeless and peerless record that could be played from start to finish without touching the skip button, and the looping function may be turned on for savory experiences again and again.

Three days ago, I was in a Vietnamese music shop in Philly asking for Tuan Ngoc’s latest album. The retailer told me, “We don’t have Tuan Ngoc new album, but we do have someone new who sings like Tuan Ngoc.” Since I was the only customer, she offered to play Dinh Ngoc’s album produced by Asia Entertainment, so I can get a glimpse of the new singer. As the CD advanced to the second track, she asked, “What do you think?” I smiled, “Yes! He does sound like Tuan Ngoc.”

Welcome to Tuan-Ngoc-esque’s club. Quang Dung, Nguyen Khang, Quang Tuan, Anh Tuan, Quach Thanh Danh, Dinh Ngoc and several other male singers remind listeners of Tuan Ngoc when they perform; however, when Tuan Ngoc sings, none of them existed in his performance. Time has passed and the new may replace the old, but time has not passed by Tuan Ngoc and he is irreplaceable. His latest LP Hay Yeu Nhau Di 2 (Let’s Love Each Other 2) proves that he is like ginger, the older the age, the spicier the taste.

Since Hay Yeu Nhau Di 2 recorded in Viet Nam, the song selection is nostalgic. Dzoan Binh’s “Mot Dong Song Toi Van Hat” (A River I Still Sing) is like a trip down memory lane for Tuan Ngoc, and his mournful voice flows into the arrangement like water hyacinth floating on the quiet river. While he supplies the polish of his vocal to some of Do Dinh Phuc’s exceptional romantic ballads including “Tinh Day Voi” (Full of Love), “Ve Dau Em Hoi” (Where Do You Go?), and “Em Ve Giua Binh Minh” (You Return in the Mid Morning), the album best tracks are the jazz-inflected joints. His intricate phrasing along with the remarkable jazz riff curls like smoke from a cigar all over Do Dinh Phuc’s “Khuc Tinh” (Romantic Ballad). The saxophone and the guitar are enthralling, and together with the hypnotic beat, they enhance the aesthetic experience of the composition. Another magnificent piece under Do Dinh Phuc’s pen is “Voi” (Rush). Tuan Ngoc elegant delivery brings shapes and colors to the track while the rollicking piano accompaniment provides listeners a modern jazz with a shade of blue.

Doan Chuan and Tu Linh’s “La Do Muon Chieu” (Leaves Fall in Multi-direction) is Tuan Ngoc’s signature piece, but both Nguyen Nhat Huy’s “Em Quen Mua Dong” (You Forget Winter) and Nguyen Kim Tuan’s “Bien Can” (Shallow Sea) are not his typical selections. I am surprised that he chooses to perform these popular songs, yet I am even more astonished that he could pull them off with his distinctive style. His attention to the lyrics and his creative interpretation make his performances – not only on these two tracks, but also on the whole album – stand apart from the rest. His masterful singing, his skillful delivery, and his attention to details turn him into a rare gemstone (ngoc) in the Vietnamese-American music community.

Last year, Thanh Lam brought Trinh Cong Son’s music to a whole new level with her recording of Ru Mai Ngan Nam (Lullabies Forever), which earned her 2004 Album of the Year in Ha Noi. This year, she takes Le Minh Son’s work to a higher plateau with her latest Nang Len (Sunrise). Sounding hungry, raw, and full of passion, she cuts straight to the essence of the song and drops verses harder than before. Le Minh Son’s compositions are the fuel that ignites the fire in her voice, something that she has been waiting for. The question is not how far she can reach, but how much she has to restrain her powerful vocals. She never ceases to astonish us with how long she can hold on to a note.

Thanh Lam and Le Minh Son in music are like Robert De Niro and Martin Scorsese in movies. While Scorsese’s films allow De Niro to create his character, Son’s compositions permit Lam to construct her attitude. Her high energy and vivid personality come through on every track. Even when the beats fail her, as they do on the weird pop-jazz arrangement on “Tim Anh Bang Nu Cuoi” (Find You By a Smile), she is still listenable.

While Lam is a gifted singer, Son is a talented musician who adds something new to traditional music with his skillful mixture of folk and jazz; his compositions sound like no others. He has an innovative technique and a fluid style of his own. Nang Len showcases his various tastes including the classical “Nguoi O Nguoi Ve” (One Stays, One Returns), the contemporary folk “Oi Que Toi” (Oh! My Countryside), and the jazz “Anh Se Ve” (He Will Return). Although Lam switches up her flow to blend with different genre, one element remains unchanged; she never sounds soft or weak.

If Son’s lyrics are bullets, Lam’s delivery is a gun. She blows like a 12-gauge shotty all over “Da Trong Chong” (Turned to Stone). As if Lam’s vocals are not sorrowful enough already, Son includes ken bop (a horn used mostly for funerals) along with folk orchestration to boost up his modern-drama version of Hon Vong Phu’s tragic tale. Son has guts and Lam has attitude. Together they make music that flows through our bodies like doses of an adrenaline rush.

On the title track “Nang Len” (Sunrise), Lam authoritative vocal is the driving force behind the symphony. She drives the arrangement like a conductor leads the ensemble. The result is a masterpiece that is rich in detail and thick in texture. “Co Doi” (Couple) is an intricate piece that proves she is the master of phrasing, an aesthetic element that makes the lyrics come to life. On the chorus, she flows as if she could go on forever, and at the same time she lets no breathing sound slip by in between the lines. This is something that many inexperienced singers could not do even when they do not reach the high notes the way Lam does.

Nang Len is an exquisite album that is intended for aficionados, not ordinary listeners. The record not only showcases Lam’s full potential, but also offers listeners all the dynamics and intricacy of the most sophisticated class of music. Is the album worth purchasing? Hell, it’s Thanh Lam. She never puts out anything less than superior performance, and this one is superb.

Big up to Thao Suong for the album.

On her latest album Khu Vuon Yen Tinh (The Quiet Garden), Hong Nhung continues to amaze listeners with new tunes. Her taste and understanding of simplicity may prove that she is the most intuitive vocalist of her generation. The freshness of her style allows Hong Nhung to reach her fans far beyond those who live in Viet Nam, not to mention her American audiences. On this album, Hong Nhung invites fans to explore her peaceful space by providing a pure appreciation for nature through a personal listening experience.

The album is simple in its complexity and complex in its simplicity. Distinguished songwriter Duong Thu, who pens six out of eight tracks on this album, recognizes the aesthetic beauty in minimalism. He believes that the simpler the writing, the stronger the expression, and “Giot Suong” (Dewdrop) demonstrates his unsophisticated lyricism. The song is divided into two short verses. Each verse has four lines. Each line contains four syllables. The words are simple, but the visual is accessible – “Giot suong trong vat / ngu trong canh hoa,” which suggests the crystal clear dewdrop sleeping inside the petal. Even though Duong Thu writes these songs for Hong Nhung, the lyrics also reflect his own personality. When the songwriter and singer are in accord with each other, together they bring out the best of both individuals merging into one. On his “Hon Da Trong Vuon Toi” (Stone in My Garden), her soothing flow is right inside the aesthetic of contemporary arrangements.

Beside Hong Nhung’s vocals and Duong Thu’s compositions, the strength of the album also comes from Quoc Trung’s luxurious arrangements. Listen to the way his drum taps on “Tieng Nuoc Roc Rach” (The Babbling Sound of Water) and how easy she is with it. Together they blend their talents to bring an exquisite sound to Duong Thu’s work. When the vocal and the instrumental components weave in and out of one another on Duong Thu’s “Tieng Mua De Lai” (The Sound of The Rain), as if completing one another’s feelings, the beauty of rhythm and harmony still depends on simplicity.

As for Quoc Trung’s own composition, “Con Chim Sau” (Woodpecker) is a breathtaking example of Hong Nhung’s innovative way with an avant-garde song, as she mixes the melody with her own phrases in a playful interaction. Near the end of the song, she goes out of context and sounds like a kid with her vocal manipulation.

The third songwriter contributing to this album is Huy Tuan, who also wrote “Mot Ngay Moi” (A New Day) exclusively for Hong Nhung on her previous album. His “Nang Som” (Early Sun) is a masterpiece that, once again, showcases Hong Nhung’s simplistic and elegant flow. Her perfection in phrasing enables the lyrics come to life.

Khu Vuon Yen Tinh proves once again that Hong Nhung’s stylistic variations are limitless. Duong Thu, Quoc Trung, and Hong Nhung offer a brand new definition of creative freedom, leading listeners to new ground. The album’s lyrical, simple beauty might attract an audience well beyond her dedicated fans. The spellbinding vocal delivery combined with the striking musical arrangement creates a quiet garden where anyone can take a break, breathe fresh air, absorb peaceful sound, and live a simple life. The album reminds us to “manifest plainness, embrace simplicity, reduce selfishness, have few desires.” – Lao-Tzu.