Let’s face it. No one can replicate the one and only Ray Charles; therefore, it’s a no brainer that on her new album, The Blue Room, Madeleine Peyroux and her longtime producer Larry Klein take the opposite direction in reinterpreting Charles’ Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music, a cultural landmark album.

The mega hit “I Can’t Stop Loving You” is a perfect example. Whereas Charles built up the tune with his soulful, poignant reading, Peyroux strips the emotion down to its core and gives the lyrics a new life. The vibe is still heart-breaking, but in a much subtler way.

With “Bye Bye Love,” she slows down the tempo to focus on the song’s narrative and gives the tune an elegant swing courtesy of the tasteful accompaniment from Larry Goldings, Dean Parks, David Piltch and Jay Bellerose. With “Take These Chains,” however, she covers the tune in a mid-tempo rather than slow allowing Vince Mendoza’s sensational string arrangement to flow hypnotically around her voice.

In addition to covering Charles’s, Peyroux wisely selected newer materials that carry similar feels into the album. In her reading of Randy Newman’s “Guilty,” one could imagine how Ray Charles would have taken this song, elevated it with his soul and made it his own. While Peyroux reminds me nothing of Charles, she makes me want to go back to Brother Ray’s Birth of the Soul.

Trọng Bắc’s debut, Dấu Mưa, opens with an elegant rendition of Từ Công Phụng’s “Như Chiếc Que Diêm.” Trọng Bắc has a gentle baritone that blends in nicely with lyrical ballads. Having Dũng Đà Lạt behind the board isn’t a bad choice, especially when arranging his own tune, “Trong Mắt Em,” in an intoxicating bossa nova flavor.

Upon listening Trọng Bắc’s take on Diệu Hương’s “Xin Đừng Quay Lại,” Quang Dũng comes to mind. Like Quang Dũng, Trọng Bắc’s voice is quite charming and he knows how to maneuver his away around Diệu Hương’s romantic lyricism. Unlike Quang Dũng, however, Trọng Bắc doesn’t have the enunciating issue. Furthermore, Quang Dũng’s devlivery nowadays is so mechanical.

The debut closes out with Quốc Bảo’s “Còn Ta Với Nồng Nàn” showing some potentials for a homage singer rather than an innovative one. No crime in that.

Seven years after winning “Sao Mai Điểm Hẹn 2006,” Phương Linh releases her sophomore album, Tiếng Hót Từ Bụi Mận Gai, with intricacy, maturity and confidence.

Her take on Ngô Thụy Miên’s “Từ Giọng Hát Em” is the proof. Phương Linh’s strong, soulful voice soars and descends with such effortlessness on each note. The accompanying piano arpeggios and soft drum brushes bring out an intimate atmosphere. While the piece is not groundbreaking, Phương Linh’s performance is outstanding.

With Dương Thụ’s “Họa Mi Hót Trong Mưa,” Phương Linh shows off her range from alto to soprano. Sounding like a nightingale singing the rain when she uses her high register to imitate the bird’s voice. The simple strumming acoustic guitar is the perfect complement to her voice.

The arrangements, which were recorded live with the band, are a huge asset for Phương Linh. From the funk-jazz vibe on “Cánh Hoa Hồng Bỗng Gọi Tên Anh” to the bluesy-folksy fusion on Thuận Yến’s “Trái Tim Lang Thang” to the intoxicating waltz on Quốc Bảo’s “Niềm Đau Chìm Xuống,” the musical accompaniments enhance the singer’s voice as well as the album’s listening experience.

What? Tùng Dương sings ballad? Get the fuck outta here. That’s not his style. He’s going to butcher those beautiful standards. Fortunately, his new release turns out to be a wonderful surprise. He can handle ballad like a motherfucking crooner.

Tùng Dương Hát Tình Ca sets off with a slow jazz rendition of “Nhìn Những Mùa Thu Đi” (Trịnh Công Sơn). Half way through, the tempo kicks up a notch for a savory swing. As always, Tùng Dương pours out his heart and soul into the song. His approach, however, has changed. He completely left out his whimsicality. I kept expecting him to freak up the melodies, but he never did. Perhaps he took some clues from Thanh Lam whose ballad singing style was being condemned for over exaggeration.

Tùng Dương is smartened up to know when to refrain himself. His version of “Ngậm Ngùi” (Phạm Duy) is soulful without being theatrical. His use of falsetto is quite good. The technique is similar to what Bằng Kiều loves to apply in most of his performance. The different is that Tùng Dương doesn’t come across like a bitch. Too bad Phạm Duy didn’t get to hear this version before he passed away. He would have loved it.

From “Dư Âm” (Nguyên Văn Tý) to “Rồi Mai Tôi Đưa Em” (Trường Sa) to “Mùa Thu Cho Em” (Ngô Thụy Miên) to “Gửi Người Em Gái ” (Đoạn Chuẩn & Từ Linh) to “Thiên Thai” (Văn Cao), Tùng Dương cuts straight to the emotional core of the lyrics with the support of intimate acoustic accompaniment. While Hát Tình Ca showcases the soother side of Tùng Dương, the album is also a welcoming detour to keep his fans satisfied until his next gig. Word is out that he’ll be in France in May to record an album with Nguyên Lê. That collaboration is going to be a motherfucker of a match.

Cùng lúc Nguyên Khang, Đức Tuấn và Quang Dũng đã ra mắt album của ba nhạc sĩ. Nguyên Khang hát dòng nhạc Anh Bằng qua Trái Tim Ngoan. Đức Tuấn hát tình khúc Trần Thái Nguyên qua Bài Tình Ca Đêm. Còn Quang Dũng thì hát Tình Ca Phạm Duy.

Trong ba, phần hòa âm nổi bật nhất là CD Quang Dung. Về chất giọng thì Quang Dũng vẫn ấm và đẹp. Tuy nhiên Quang Dũng đã không còn chất lôi cuốn như trước. Vả lại Quang Dũng cũng chẳng đổi mới cách hát nên nghe cũng chẳng gì gợi được sự chú ý. Trong mười tình ca, Quang Dũng chỉ đổi phong cách một lần trong “Đố Ai” vì bài này có mang âm hưởng dân ca.

Phần hòa âm trong Bài Tình Ca Đêm tuy không dở nhưng cũng không nổi trội. Khuyết điểm lớn nhất là chẳng có gì ăn khớp. Đường ai nấy đi, lời và nhạc không quyện vào nhau. Tuy Đức Tuấn đã giảm đi nét điệu khá nhiều, lối hát của Đức Tuấn vẫn không êm tai. Đức Tuấn giường như đã tập trung hết tất cả kỹ thuật chỉ để được hát một cách tự do và trôi chảy nhưng cách hát của Đức Tuấn vẫn còn bị gò bó.

Khác với Đức Tuấn và Quang Dũng, Nguyên Khang hát rất tự nhiên và lối phát âm không làm người nghe khó chịu. Tuy nhiên phần hòa âm của các nhạc sĩ Asia thì chán mòn. Nghe dòng nhạc Anh Bằng qua lối hòa âm của Trúc Hồ, Sỹ Đan và Vũ Tuấn Đức như xem phim Groundhog Day. Dường như “Mai Tôi Đi” chẳng bao giờ ra đi; “Anh Còn Nợ Em” chẳng bao giờ trả hết; và “Anh Còn Yêu Em” chẳng bao giờ chấm dứt. Trong album, chỉ có “Dù Nắng Có Mong Manh” là mới một tí nhờ Mai Thanh Sơn đưa vào vài note blues dương cầm.

From his bizarre attire to his eccentric musical approach, Nguyễn Đình Thanh Tâm has some resemblances of Tùng Dương. (Speaking of Tùng Dương, what the fuck has he been up to?). The opening track, “Lời Ru Tôi” (Dương Thụ), in Cánh Diều Lạc Phố is definitely a Tùng Dương’s inspiration. From his phrasing to his wordless singing to the mid-tempo, electric arrangement, Thanh Tâm is obviously under the influence of Sao Mai – Điểm Hẹn‘s past winner.

Whereas Tùng Dương is uncompromising, Thanh Tâm is much more accessible. His cover of “Ngẫu Hứng Phố” (Trần Tiến) and “Hòn Đá Trong Vườn Tôi” (Quốc Trung & Dương Thụ) are smart and refreshing. He was able to transform these well-known tunes into his own colorful, electric approach. He also does well with other styles like the rock-up “Cánh Diều Lạc Phố” (Lê Huy Trực) and the jazzy “Tôi Đọc Báo Công Cộng” (Nguyễn Duy Hùng). With the challenging “Tu Hú Kêu Lạc Mùa” (Nguyễn Vĩnh Tiến), however, he has yet to conquer the dead-slow tempo.

The special appearance of Thanh Hoa and Ngọc Khuê give the album a huge boost. Ngọc Khuê is once again mesmerizing on Nguyễn Vĩnh Tiến’s “Lên Chùa” without overpowering her partner. Cánh Diều Lạc Phố is a promising debut for a young star. Keep growing and moving forward, kiddo.

Ánh Tuyết’s new album, Duyên Kiếp, comes in two linguistic flavors: One in Northern accent and the other in Quảng’s enunciation. Yet, all of the ballads being covered are suitable for southern voices.

Ánh Tuyết is one of the few Vietnamese female singers with an incredibly high soprano tone, but she hardy uses her upper register in this album, which is a smart move. With jazz-tinged, classy arrangements, she breathes new life into Lam Phương’s title track and “Tình Bơ Vơ.” Her version of Duy Yên & Quốc Kỳ’s “Mưa Chiều Kỷ Niệm” is elegantly reflective.

On the north side, Ánh Tuyết gives bolero ballads, including “Đừng Nói Xa Nhau” (Châu Kỳ & Hồ Đình Phương), “Chiều Cuố Tuần” (Trúc Phương) and “Em Về Kẻo Trời Mưa” (Ngân Giang) an instant refresh. The effortlessness in her delivery and the intimate arrangements are the key elements in remaking these over-sentimental classics.

The Quảng’s side is quite fascinating. Although the arrangements stay the same, the accent changes the vibe a bit. I must admit the pronunciation is a bit strange at first, but it is growing on me upon several listens. If you want to experience this album, I highly recommend starting with the Quảng’s side first.

Tiếng Thu, a solo piano album from Vũ Hồng Khanh, is growing on me. Even though Hồng Khanh rarely improvises, his takes on Pham Duy’s unforgettable ballads are full of rich melodies and strong harmonies. Hồng Khanh’s lyrical playing in “Ngậm Ngùi” and “Thuyền Viễn Xứ” are instantly recognizable. His slow cadences on the left hand combined with the high, dramatic keys on the right makes “Đừng Bỏ Em Một Mình” so damn hauntingly beautiful.

While “Nha Trang Ngày Về” is gorgeously reflective, he should have left off the sound effects, which are a little distracting. And since the tune clocks in over eight minutes, I wish he branches off and improvises more. “Tiếng Đàn Tôi” is the only slightly uptempo piece. The tango rhythm is very sexy, but I keep waiting for him to swing it up a bit. Nevertheless this is a fine album for an intimate listening experience.

I rarely listen to Vietnamese instrumental albums simply because most of them seem to be recorded for restaurant’s background music. Occasionally there’s an exception, like the most recent Tiếng Sáo Thiên Thai, which is an elegant interpretation of Phạm Duy’s timeless classics from a nameless quartet: pianist Vũ Hồng Khanh, violinist Nguyễn Tạ Thiện, violist Bùi Anh Sơn and cellist Võ Đing Kuân.

Even though the quartet places heavy emphasis on Phạm Duy’s gorgeous melodies and hardly deviates from the written notes, it has dynamic moments of interaction. Vũ Hồng Khanh opens “Kỷ Niệm” with a short, classy intro before diving into the lovely melody. His solo is slow but full of confidence. Nguyễn Tạ Thiện joins in for a brief piano-violin duo. Half way into the tune, Nguyễn Tạ Thiện and Bùi Anh Sơn play in unison while Võ Đing Kuân anchors the beat. Together they painted a nostalgic picture. In “Nghìn Trùng Xa Cách,” Bùi Anh Sơn starts off the low notes on the viola and Nguyễn Tạ Thiện takes over on the high notes creating a magnificent contrast that suggests ocean apart. In “Chiều Về Trên Sông,” Nguyễn Tạ Thiện’s violin soars like songbird flying on the river in a melancholy evening.

Although the ten tracks on Tiếng Sáo Thiên Thai have been covered endless of times from countless singers, the wordless, instrumental versions, which have a wide range of tones, stand out on their own.

An album like Snakeoil from altoist and composer Tim Berne makes the modern jazz scene so damn intriguing. It’s inventive, unconventional and hauntingly hypnotizing. With the superb, engaging support of Matt Mitchell on piano, Oscar Noriega on clarinets and Ches Smith on drums, Tim Berne unveils the dissonant beauty in thought-provoking lyricism and angular melodic interaction. From the opening “Simple City” to closing “Spectacle,” this terrific set encourages closed attention for a rewarding listening experience.