Quynh Hoa’s latest release, Romance, is thankfully not an English album sung by a heavily accented Vietnamese singer. The title suggests the romantic vibe of Ha Noi since most tracks, including Tran Tien’s “Ha Noi Ngay Ay,” Nguyen Vinh Tien’s “Thu Ha Noi” and “Cafe Ha Noi,” were written about the city.

Romance kicks off with Nguyen Cuong’s “Vuon Em Dem Qua No Mot Canh Mai.” The track begins with a few hypnotic electric bass lines then follows by sweet, melodic Vietnamese flute. As soon as Quynh Hoa’s sultry, smoky contralto joins in, you know you’re in for a fantastic ride. Tran Tien’s “Ha Noi Ngay Ay” gets a gorgeous electric makeover complemented with savory keyboard touches and sensuous saxophone licks. What makes the track stands out is Quynh Hoa’s effortless delivery no matter how fancy the arrangement gets. Her low notes in particular are so damn seductive, noticeably on the piano-only accompaniment of Nguyen Vinh Tien’s “Thu Ha Noi.”

The spellbind breaks when she tries to tough up her pipe on Nguyen Cuong’s “Bien Dau Buon Den The.” Her flow is stilted and her vocals are rough as if she wanted to sound like a badass. The good thing is that she pulls back on Nguyen Vinh Tien’s “Ha Noi Cafe” and curls her phrasing like smoke around the strumming acoustic guitar. The album closes out with a striking orchestration of contemporary folks on Nguyen Cuong’s “Ho Bien.”

Romance is a much needed change in the endless repetition and unimaginative direction of the current Vietnamese pop scene. Mad props to Minh Dao for some fresh arrangements as well.

Melancholy Baby shows that Jaimee Paul has got the blues. “I want a little sugar in my bowl / I want a little sweetness down in my soul,” Ms Paul whips out her bluesy pipes, intoxicating phrasing and turns Nina Simon’s classic into her own. Her version of Cy Coleman and Dorothy Fields’s “Big Spender” puts the Pussycat Dolls to shame with her sultry, shouting blues. She also puts her own spin on Bill Wither’s “Ain’t No Sunshine” and reinvigorated U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” with a hypnotizing, bossa-nova flavor. With Beegie Adair’s tender, delicate touch on the piano, Ms gives me melancholy too on the title track.

Lupe Fiasco is a conscious rapper who is unfortunately running out of consciousness in his latest release Lasers. Instead of focusing on his lyrical skills, his strongest assets, Lupe lets r & b hooks, Auto-Tune and dance beats take over his rhymes. Lupe is at his best when he speaks his mind like on the brilliant “Words I Never Said,” in which he criticizes: “Limbaugh is a racist, Glenn Beck is a racist / Gaza strip was getting bombed, Obama didn’t say shit.” Too bad, Lupe spends too much time trying to speak to the radio and the clubs.

As if Mai Thanh Son, Doan Phi, Tuong Nguyen, Tuong Khue and Cardin aren’t wimpy enough, Asia Entertainment added Le Anh Quan, another baby-boy voice, to its male roster. His debut Mot Giay Phut Thoi is a typical Asia’s cookie cutter. Le Anh Quan covers Asia’s songs that have been sung to death like Truc Ho’s “Con Mua Ha” and “Neu Khong Co Em,” Vu Tuan Duc’s “Tinh Da Vut Bay” and “Trang Ua Sao Mo,” and Sy Dan’s “Ngay Vui Nam Ay.” Vocally and instrumentally, none of these tracks stands out. Le Anh Quan’s weak voice and static delivery bring nothing new to the unimaginative productions. Come on Truc Ho, slow down, put some effort into your work and stop releasing these dreadful music.

With Evolution, sexy singer Thanh Ha attempts to get her groove back. No crime in that. Even a MILF needs rejuvenation. Like what Y Van had suggested in “60 Nam Cuoi Doi,” life only lasts 60 years so you might as well make the most out of it. Thanh Ha gives Y Van’s classic a fresh makeover thanks to Roland Casiquin for the up-tempo, rock-up beat.

While some of the productions are superb, the song selection is all over the place. Most tunes are translated and Casiquin can’t seem to help himself from injecting annoying ad-libs and nursery rhymes into the tracks. The jump-off “Diep Khuc Mua Xuan” (written by Quoc Dung) wouldn’t be so irritating if he keeps the machine voices out of the tune. Likewise the little Auto-Tune singing-rapping on Van Phuong’s “Tinh Yeu” is exasperating: “Girl you’re the one / You’re my love / You’re my medicine / When it comes to [love?] makes you the veteran.” These Vietlish tracks, particularly “Nobody But You,” make Thanh Ha sounds like she desperately trying to be hip just like the suit she can’t pull off on the album cover.

“Tinh Voi” (a translated tune) starts off with such a sleepy bossa-nova that Casiquin has to rock it up in order to keep listeners from dozing off. From r & b to dance pop to rock to smooth jazz to soul to rap, the album should have been titled The Evolution of Thanh Ha’s Sandwich.

As someone who follows Ngoc Anh’s career for many years, I didn’t think she could make a bad record if she wanted to. Even under Thuy Nga’s poppy direction, she managed to cut some exceptional tracks with Giet Nguoi Trong Mong and gained a wider audience who only knew her after she appeared on Paris By Night.

Her follow-up release, Ta Tinh, however, proves me wrong. As Thuy Nga pushes Ngoc Anh deeper into the pop hole, she can’t save herself from sinking into the god-aweful productions. Her rendition of Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Nua Hon Thuong Dau” is one of the most tasteless covers I have heard. The bouncy arrangement takes the soul and the lyricism right out of the song. Intead of “Nham mat cho toi tim mot thoang huong xua,” the beat gets on your nerve if you close your eyes.

Ngoc Anh and Bang Kieu’s duet on Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Rieng Mot Goc Troi” is much worse than on Do Le’s “Sang Ngang.” The track sounds like two chicks and a horrendous soprano sax battling out for their own turf. Other than the excellent, heart-rending version of Pham Duy’s “Mua Thu Chet,” Ta Tinh is mediocre at best.

From skin-baring album cover to artifical, soupy hits including Le Xuan Truong’s translated “Cuoi Cung La Hu Vo,” Ngoc Trong’s “Sau Vuong Khoi May” and Hai Nguyen “Em Hay Ve Di,” it’s sad to see such a phenomenal artist getting sucked into Thuy Nga’s money-making machine. With Ta Tinh, Ngoc Anh is selling out her soul more than trying to reach the young listeners.

It doesn’t take long to fall in love with the British soul-pop singer Adele. In fact, the opening track, “Rolling In The Deep,” on her sophomore release, 21, hooks you right in. Who can resist the smoky, sexy voice complemented with the damn catchy beat? The second track, “Rumor Has It,” gets even better. In addition to the memorable melody, the hypnotic drum claps and the savor jazz keyboard lick, the punchline is dead on: “You made my heart melt, yet I’m cold to the core / But rumour has it. I’m the one you’re leaving her for.” On the slow pop ballad, “Don’t You Remember,” so pours her heart out more like an old soul than a twenty-one-year-old girl. 21 has a few stalled moments, but the album is definitely worth listening.

With Bird Songs, saxman Joe Lovano doesn’t set out to chase after Charlie Parker. Instead, Lovano and his Us Five (with pianist James Wheidman, bassist Esperanza Spalding and drummers Francisco Mela and Otis Brown III) use Parker’s compositions as a springboard and go off in their own direction. “Passport” starts out with the original melody with Lovano plays a lyrical solo before heading into his blazing chops. With “Barbados,” the band replace the bebop rhythm with the Caribbean groove and yet still provide the space for Lovano to pour out his soul. Bird Songs is indeed a compelling reimagination of Parker’s music.

Renowned jazz pianist Jason Moran and his Bandwagon (with bassist Tarus Mateen and drummer Nasheet Waits) cut one of the best jazz albums of 2010. Ten celebrates a decade of the band working together with an imaginative reinterpretation of Thelonious Monk’s “Crepuscule with Nellie,” a modern approach to composition based on Jimi Hendrix’s infamous technique (“Feedback 2”) and an intriguing incorporation of funk, jazz and hip-hop (“Gangsterism Over Ten Years”). Listening to the trio reminds me of a Vietnamese proverb: “A lone tree cannot make a forest, but three trees gathered together form a high hill.”

Thanh Thao’s musical direction is best describe as “deafness fears no gun” (diec khong so sung). Even though most of her hits are mediocre, you have to hand it to her for playing around with different styles ranging from trendy pop to dance pop to imitated hip-hop and r&b to to over-sentimental ballad. Her new release, Hoang Tu Trong Mo, is a bolero devotion. She also enlisted an impressive roster of guest princes including Thai Chau, Ngoc Son, Truong Vu and Le Hieu for the duets.

What makes Thanh Thao intriguing is that she is not afraid to mix and match styles. She picks out her beats as if she shops for her clothes. Hoang Tu Trong Mo is based on the bolero foundation, but she also adds some pop, hip-hop and even jazz on top. The most fascinating arrangement on the album is the blend of jazz, hip-hop rhythm with traditional instruments on “Nho Nguoi Yeu” with Ngoc Son. The track sounds both “sen” (cheesy) and “sang” (elegant) at the same time. Who else, but Thanh Thao could pull that off?

Her collaboration with Truong Vu on “Duong Tinh Doi Nga” works surprisingly well. His over-emphatic singing is a perfect foil for her straightforward delivery and they seem to feel each other’s pain. In contrast, she sounds as if she is done with the Quang Dung drama on the medley “Nhin Nhau Lan Cuoi” and “Xin Dung Noi Yeu Toi.” They both sound flat and tired of the past. While Dam Vinh Hung is on top of her on “Gap Nhau Lam Ngo,” Vuong Trieu Vu is at the bottom of her on “Sao Em Vo Tinh.” They should get together and do a threesome.

Another standout duet is “Em Ve Keo Troi Mua.” Le Hieu’s northern accent in singing a southern tune is quite pleasing. Like most of Thanh Thao’s album, Hoang Tu Trong Mo contains both hits and misses. It’s nice to hear her messing around with different flavors.