First few listens of Gretchen Parlato’s The Lost and Found didn’t quite sink in. Parlato has a tiny, breathy, whispery, slurry voice and the music is all over the place ranging from r&b to pop to post-bop. Paying closed attention, however, the album is a rare gem. Parlato isn’t just a singer. She uses her voice as an instrument to engage with her vigorous rhythm section, which made up of pianist Taylor Eigsti, bassist Derrick Hodge and drummer Kendrick Scott. On the hypnotic reinterpretation of Wayne Shorter’s “Juju,” her voice floats like ghost passing through glass alongside tenor saxaphonist Dayna Stephens. On Lauryn Hill’s “All That I Can Say,” she rides the groovy r&b beat with grace and effortlessness. With poetic lyrics, beautiful melody and sleek beat, her original “Still,” co-written and duet with guitarist Alan Hampton, is no less impressive. The Lost and Found showcases not only Parlato’s stylistic versatility, but also her ethearal sensibility.

“Confessions to My Daughter,” an opening track on When the Heart Emerges Glistening, kicks off with Ambrose Akinmusire’s mesmerizing, naked trumpet intro then teamed up with tenor saxophonist Walter Smith III for a hypnotic dual backing up by pianist Gerald Clayton, bassist Harish Raghavan and drummer Justin Brown. On “The Walls of Lechuguilla,” Akinmusire once again plays a very intriquing unaccompanied intro switching between high and low notes and speeding into a post-bop thrills. As the apt title suggested, Akinmusire’s heart emerges glistening on all but one of his original compositions. With a promising debut, Akinmusire is the up and coming new trumpeter to keep an ear on.

By now, fourth album into their career, the Puppini Sisters are no longer an act of novelty, but that’s not a problem at all. They still have a few tricks under their sleeves. They swing the hell out of “I Got Rhythm” and get real hoedown on “Get Happy.” Hollywood opens with the sisters’ up-tempo original title track, then take listeners back to good old show-stopping hits (and a few misses) and then closes out with “Parle Plus Bas,” a playful French version of the theme from The Godfather.

1. Trang Nhung – Son. Trang Nhung crafted a superb contemporary folks record with great song choices, vocals and arrangements.
2. Lê Cát Trọng Lý. Ms. Le’s self-titled debut showcases her songwriting skills, guitar chops and singing talent.
3. Công Lâm – Chàng Trai Việt. Backup by strong orchestration, Công Lâm shows what it takes to be a Vietnamese man through his charming, authoritative tenor.
4. Ngọc Quy – Hồn Có Mơ Xa. With Ngọc Quy’s fine baritone, classiness and warm intimacy, this album is perfect for late-night relaxation.
5. Hiền Thục – Thiên Sứ. With effortless flow, classy arrangements and the ability to dig deeper into the lyrics, Hiền Thục has found her own voice in Trịnh Công Sơn music.
6. Ánh Tuyết Hát Trịnh Công Sơn. Ánh Tuyết interprets Trịnh Công Sơn music with her lower alto rather than her soprano. The result is mesmerizing.
7. Quang Tuấn – Chiều Vàng. Even though the album is on the safe side, Quang Tuấn delivers the songs as perfect as the way they were written.
8. Quốc Khanh & Đan Nguyên – Nhớ Mẹ. Two sons of the veteran who shared the same asperation brings some freshness to Vietnam war tunes.
9. Nguyễn Hồng Nhung – Dường Như. Nguyễn Hồng Nhung delivers classic ballads with soulfulness and tastefulness, but lacked the uniqueness. The strength of the album, however, is from new tunes like “Duong Nhu” and “Nghiet Nga.”
10. Đàm Vĩnh Hưng – Anh Còn Nợ Em. Đàm Vĩnh Hưng returns to his syrupy signature that once made him popular.

Nhớ Mẹ sounds like a project Quốc Khanh and Đan Nguyên, the two buddies who shared the same inspiration, got together and just made the recordings. Their straightforward approach to classic tunes is surprisingly fresh.

On the title track, the two sing in unison and they sound so in tuned that it is almost impossible to tell them apart. Trúc Hồ made the clever decision of keeping the accompaniment to just strumming guitars to allow the boys to pour out their hearts.

In contrast, “Một Mai Giã Từ Vũ Khí” (Trịnh Lâm Ngân) showcases each individual voice. Đan Nguyên has a slight advantage because the tune fits his signature style, but Quốc Khanh is quite convincing as well with his candid delivery. They both sound marvelous together on the chorus. While Giang Tử’s rendition of the same song is told through a man who had experienced the wartime, Quốc Khanh’s and Đan Nguyên’s version is narrated through the sons of the veteran.

The aspiration is further displayed on Quốc Khanh’s cover of “Anh Không Chết Đâu Em” (Trần Thiện Thanh). Unfortunately Quốc Khanh used an old production from Trúc Hồ instead of coming up with his own. For art sake, he could have remixed it a bit even just slowing down or speeding up the tempo. That’s just pure laziness since he proves that he could make a decent beat for “Trên Đầu Súng” (Anh Việt Thu).

Đan Nguyên steps up his game on “Mất Nhau Rồi” (Ngân Trang), “Thành Phố Sau Lưng” (Hàn Châu) and “Liên Khúc Thành Phố Buồn” (Lam Phương). His phrasing has improved tremendously over the years. He brings a new vibe of youthfulness on the timeless tunes and he knows not to over-sentimentalize the lyrics.

While Nhớ Mẹ is not groundbreaking, it serves as a moment of introspection to remind us the part of Vietnamese history that we could never forget. Quốc Khanh and Đan Nguyên are among many of the Asia family to carry on the tradition.

If music were his spouse, Quang Tuấn is a faithful man. He doesn’t cheat because he makes no attempt on experimenting with new styles. As a result, his work is very predictable. Even without listening to his new release Chiều Vàng, anyone who has heard of Quang Tuấn previous works would get a sense of how he would sing the songs.

On the positive side, Quang Tuấn’s dedication on nurturing the relationship with music and honing his skills paid off. He delivers “Tình Rơi” (Hồ Đăng Long) with a flawless effort. He rides the semi-classical arrangment with poise and elegant. His rendition of “Đường Xa Vạn Dặm” (Trịnh Công Sơn) is damn near perfection as a homage than a reinterpretation. Staying with the written melody worked out well in those cases, but Quang Tuấn could learn a thing or two from his mentor Tuấn Ngọc on the subtlety of flying off notes on “Xin Trả Nợ Người.”

While some of the jazzy arrangements add a bit of new flavors to the classic tunes, Quang Tuấn’s dead-on interpretations, like “Chiều Nay Không Có Em” (Ngô Thụy Miên) and the title track, are a tad tiring. “Đoá Hoa Vô Thường (Trịnh Công Sơn), which clocks in nine and a half minutes, gets worn out even with some uptempo switch-up.

For an independent production, Chiều Vàng is a commendable effort. At the same time, Quang Tuấn has complete creative freedom to do whatever he wants and to break himself out of the box.

Love it when a musician goes the extra miles crafting an experience rather than just cutting an album. Son is an outstanding contemporary folks record to be listened from start to finish thanks to Trang Nhung’s superb music taste and thought-out theme.

From the opening “Son” (Đức Nghĩa) to the closing “Lời Ru Âu Lạc” (Nguyễn Minh Sơn), each composition is selected with care to suit her beautiful voice. Furthermore, she approaches each tune with soul, simplicity, clarity and an appreciation and comprehension of Vietnamese various folks styles.

While her rendition of “Không Thể Và Có Thể” (Phó Đức Phương) is emphatic without over-dramatic, her own “Áo Dài Việt Nam,” which based on her husband’s poetry, is graceful to showcase the elegant beauty of Vietnamese long dress: “Dịu dàng và dịu dàng / chiếc áo thật thứ tha / Nghiêng nghiêng hồn sông núi / Nghiêng nghiêng bóng tre xanh.” I can visualize the mountains part, but not the bamboo part on “áo dài.”

What makes Son so damn enjoyable is that each song stands out on its own and yet goes well together as a whole package thanks to the breathtaking arrangments courtesy of Minh Mẫn and Yên Lam. The incorporation of traditional Vietnamese musical instruments with Western rhythm section and horns not only add new vibes to the album, but also bring out fresh flavors to favorites such as “Giấc Mơ Trưa” (Giáng Son), “Ôi Quê Tôi” (Lê Minh Sơn) and “Chênh Vênh” (Lê Cát Trọng Lý). Haven’t heard a Vietnamese album this good in quite a while.

After her groundbreaking Khu Vườn Yên Tĩnh released almost seven years ago, she retreated to the safe territory covering Trinh Cong Son’s songs and collaborating with her platonic pal Quang Dũng. The new release Vòng Tròn is an attempt to reinvent her style.

The title track and “Nghịch Nắng” start off promising. With spacious, mid tempo, electronic arrangments courtesy of Quốc Trung, the two tracks pick up where Khu Vườn Yên Tĩnh left off. Just when we’re about to get into the zone, the third track kicks us right back out and let us down all the way through. The production on “Danh Vọng” is just robotic and so is Hồng Nhung’s English singing. Even though her enunciation has been improved over the years, clarity is still an issue, which further proved on “Papa” and “Anh Đừng Đi.”

As for the rest of the tracks, Hồng Nhung is drowned out by the trunk-rattle bass and soft-rave productions. Her modern view of “Sài Gòn” is damn near unrecognizable as if the city is all about partying, popping E and chilling out. The use of Auto-Tune on “Bống Bống Bang Bang” testifies that Hồng Nhung is indeed trying to hard to stay young. Even though she is good at hiding her age—she looks as if she is getting younger as the years gone by—the change in her music reveals the desperation of trying to be ageless. Would you rather see Bống in a quiet garden or in the club grooving in circles? I rather see the former because I am a grown-ass man who isn’t pretending that I am still belong to the club.

From the opening title track to the closing “Hồn Việt,” (both written by Minh Châu), Chàng Trai Việt is indeed a patriotic album. With his charming, authoritative tenor, Công Lâm effortlessly navigated through epic-orchestrated pieces including Phạm Đình Chương’s “Tiếng dân chài” and Phạm Duy’s “Áo anh sứt chỉ đường tà.” Yet, the success of the album isn’t just his voice alone. It’s the combination of right song choices, strong supportive from backup vocal groups and excellent musical arrangements. Chàng Trai Việt is well-crafted and well-thoughtout. Definitely worth experiencing from start to finish.

I felt in love with Stacey Kent a couple weeks ago and still do so with several more albums. Her clear enunciation combined with her no-nonsense phrasing makes her so damn pleasure to listen to during work and drive.

Raconte-Moi is my favorite album for the morning commute. Ms. Kent’s romantic French-singing and the tasty arrangements, particularly the bossa nova groove on the first two tracks (“Les Eaux De Mars” and “Jardin D’hiver”) are a perfect way to start the gorgeous autumn day.

The Lyric is a lovely collaboration with her husband, saxophonist Jim Tomlinson. The album kicks off with an instrumental cover of “Manha De Carnival.” While it is a beautiful, one would wish Ms. Kent lent her voice to the track because Mr. Tomlinson isn’t Paul Desmond nor Stan Getz. The ones featured Ks. Kent, including “I’ve Grown Accustomed To His Face,” “If I were A Bell” and “My Heart Belongs To Daddy,” are sensational.

Breakfast On The Morning Tram truly showcases Ms. Kent as a gifted storyteller. From “The Ice Hotel” to “Landslide” to “I Wish I Could Go Traveling Again” and the title track, Ms. Kent brought novelist Kazuo Ishiguro’s lyrics to life like she was narrating to a romantic film with simple picking guitar. The album strangely ends with her straightforward reading of “What a Wonderful World.”

I still have a few more albums of her to get through, but these three are pure pleasure.