I don’t know about the old Thao Trang, but the new Thao Trang comes straight out of Rihanna, noticeably the style and the boy haircut. The New Me is also heading toward pop-r&b direction. The album switches from English to Vietnamese and from dance to slow ballad. The changes of language and tempo from track to track is quite a distraction. Why not just stick to one, preferably English?

Thao Trang’s English is very impressive for a girl living in Viet Nam. Unlike 99% of singers in Viet Nam who sings with heavy Vietlish accent, Thao Trang doesn’t have that issue. In fact, her English is even stronger than her Vietnamese. The lyrics on the title track are mediocre, but you could understand what she’s singing about and the beat is incredibly bouncy. “Superstar Girl” is another cut exclusively for the dance floor. The attitude here is definitely a Rihanna’s influence minus the curses. Yet the strongest connection is on Bollywood-inflected “I am Not Easy,” which sounds like a collaboration between Rihanna and Lil Wayne. Antoneus is unknown to me, but the singing style is coming from Weezy.

Strangely enough, Thao Trang’s Vietnamese tracks fall flat on both production and vocal delivery. She sounds less confidence “Trai Ngang” than “I am Free.” When she combines both languages into one song and the result is a disaster. “Sick of This Love” is a proof: “I am sick of this love / sick of this life / Sau bao cay dang bong nhu nghe long nhu da phai.”

On her new release, Tim Lai Giac Mo, Ho Ngoc Ha sounds pretty damn relax for a pop star whose personal life has been caught into the media whirlwind. She delivers each track with such effortless as if she pays no mind to the media circus.

Being a mother could be the reason for the calmness in her. She is more focused and she doesn’t allow the noise breaks her concentration. Even on the heart-aching title track, she just eases back and lets the saxophone does the soaring. Unfortunately, the screeching sax tries to break your eardrum rather than your heart. On the pop-jazz “Tinh Yeu Cua Em,” the sax once again overpowers her raspy voice. Other than the crying sax sounds, the album stays consistent throughout.

Tim Lai Giac Mo is an easy-listening pop album. The opening track, penned herself, is light but catchy. The closing English track should have been dropped. In a live rendition of “Unchain Melody,” she told the audiences to pretend that they all drunk when she sings the tune. I took two shots of Jack Daniel’s and still couldn’t get past her stilted phrasing and mispronunciation.

If Y Phuong’s new release were about global warming, she would have outsold Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth. After listening to ten tracks on Mua (rain), I still feel dry and humid. Accompanied by Asia’s draggy productions, Y Phuong puts no effort in making these tunes her own. She sings like a weather reporter: In track one, “Thang 6 Troi Mua,” it’s going to be rain all day, but never did; in track two, “Chieu Mua,” it’s going to be a heavy rain in the evening, but never did; and on we go. Even with the support of Don Ho, Quoc Khanh and Le Nguyen, still no rain.

On the new release, Mot Khuc Song Hong, Le Minh Son offers his own sketches of Hanoi. After his failed attempt to sing in his last release, Le Minh Son has smartened up to know not to deliver the songs himself; therefore, he enlisted his veterans (Thanh Lam, Tung Duong and Ngoc Khue) as well as rookies (Hoang Quyen and Ha Linh) to help out with the vocals.

Tung Duong sets off the album with “Ha Noi Cua Toi Oi.” As always, Tung Duong delivers the tune with soul, power and individuality. Le Minh Son’s simple strumming guitar is a perfect complement to Tung Duong’s voice. The sensational, Miles-ballad trumpet solo heightens the vibe of the tune. Ngoc Khue continues with “Co Ve Pho,” in which she brings back her child-like signature in Ben Bo Ao Nha Minh. Again Le Minh Son’s accompanying guitar is marvelous along the distinctive sound of the Vietnamese flute. Although Hoang Quyen is new to me, I dig her dark, raspy vocals immediately on “Ret Dau Mua.” On here, Le Minh Son switches up his guitar for some Latin flavor. The best part is when he picks an obstinato in responding to Hoang Quyen’s upper register. The arrangements get more complex after the third track, yet they become less intriguing. Le Minh Son should have stayed with the simple acoustic throughout.

The Lam-Son collaboration used to be a match made in heaven, but now it’s a match made in hell. They should mesh well since Son likes his songs to be sings with authority and passion. Thanh Lam definitely has both. In fact, she is over-qualified. As a result, her vibrato on the big notes is unbearable, especially on “Truoc Giao Thua.” On the title track, Thanh Lam sounds like she’s in a trance and she uses vibrato like T-Pain uses Auto-Tune.

Ha Linh who is also new to me closes out the album with “Han Han.” The song sounds more like Ngoc Dai than Le Minh Son. Nevertheless, Mot Khuc Song Hong offers some refreshing new tunes instead of the endless covering of old tunes that currently dominating the Vietnamese pop scene.

Being dubbed as the star of the stars, Dam Vinh Hung continues to make commercial success out of mediocrity. How does he do it? Mr. Dam simply mastered the art of promotion. With every album release comes a whole backstory with it.

As usual, the music on his latest release, Khoang Cach, sucks, but the concept behind it sells. Weaving together a bunch of sugary, campy ballads, Mr. Dam heightens the drama of his eight-year relationship. He told the press, “I started to have feeling for the opposite sex when I was in third grade, began to fall in love in eighth grade, but I respect the most the relationship I had in the past eight years. Unfortunately, I fell for another girl while in the relationship. She was a very nice girl who gave me the green light and led me into the trap.” Mr. Dam is not ashamed to admit that he is as faithful as his options.

Except for “Bien Noi Nho Va Em,” in which he has done a decent job of covering Phu Quang’s tune with his slightly over-sentimental style, Khoang Cach comes together like a theatrical soundtrack. In the slow opening “Chuyen Phim Toi,” Dr. Dam connects his love story to a chick flick. In the title track, he wears his heart on his sleeve over the Chinese-inflected melody. While “Doi Em Trong Mo” is for the club heads, “Dung Hoi Vi Sao” is for the twisting feet. Love him or loathe him, Mr. Dam will be around as long as his fans still enjoy his music acting.

Twelve years into show biz with numerous forgettable releases, Quang Dung has yet to learn the art of crafting an album. He still throws together a handful of tracks and picks out a word for the album title.

His latest release, Toi, has no concept or any particular theme that goes into the album. You could just put Toi on random and the listening experience would still be the same: just a bunch of tracks with various songwriters and arrangements that have no connection whatsoever.

If you play the album in random, however, you might not get to hear Quang Dung’s highly irritating pronunciation on the opening track, Bao Chan’s “Roi Dau Yeu Ve.” His “x” in particular is like sharp needles poking into your ears. By the time he gets to “xa xoi, xa xoi da xa xoi roi,” the piercing sound is just unbearable. So it might be not a bad thing to skip this track altogether.

While we’re at it, let’s also skip Anh Bang’s “Anh Con No Em” and Hoang Trong Thuy’s “Doan Khuc Cuoi Cho Em.” For some reasons, these two tunes had been covered again and again by countless of singers in the past year. The royalty fees must be on sale or none at all. In all fairness, I wouldn’t mind hearing another cover if Quang Dung could bring something fresh to the tune. In this case, neither the production nor the interpretation stands out.

Quang Dung once again offers the same safety formula he had used since his debut. Toi is just another predictable work that demonstrates nothing but his creative limitation. It’s a damn shame that Quang Dung can’t seem get beyond his comfort zone.

One of the game’s hottest MILFs drops her 10th-solo Kim Nguu. The title, which named according to her Zodiac sign (Taurus), has nothing to do with the lollipop tunes on the album. It just goes to show how much Hien Thuc had invested in this CD.

The leadoff track, “Yeu Dau Theo Gio Bay,” kicks off with some nursery rhymes like “cay cay” and “bay bay.” Although Hien Thuc added some emotion to her singing, the lackluster production and the annoying rap murdered the song. “Nuoc Mat Pha Le” is even worse. It sounds like millions of other Chinese-infected tunes that spread like bird flu over the Vietnamese music scene.

From my personal experience, if an album released in Vietnam with a track in English, 99 percent of the time that CD ended up being mediocre. This one is no exception and the dead-boring “Never Say Goodbye” is a proof. Kim Nguu is apparent that Hien Thuc is in no competition with Hoang Thuy Linh in the pop-r&b-dance territory.

Lately I got tired listening to Vietnamese timeless ballads that had been covered with uninspiring results; therefore, I have turned my attention to dance-pop hits. Thanh Thao’s 2010 Dance Remix is still on heavy rotation in my car stereo. Each morning, the medleys help me stay awake until my grande bold at Starbucks pumps in. The opening track, “Lien Khuc Nguoi Yeu Cua Toi,” is extremely addictive. The Thai-translated “Ok Minh Chia Tay” in particular grooves me and I always get a kick out of the nursery rhymes: “Nguoi doi thay ma toi dau co hay / Vi chot yeu nen dang cay / Nguoi muon quen ngay xua nhu bong may / Ok minh chia tay.” Tien Dat has done a great job of incorporating the lyrics into his delivery and his flow is tight.

My second guilty pleasure is Ung Hoang Phuc’s Greatest Hits, in which he re-recorded some of his signature slow ballads with up-tempo productions. “Toi Di Tim Toi” is addictive as hell and the beat is catchier than a motherfucker. The upbeat version of “Co Don Mot Vi Sao” is also off the hook. The beat speeds up as the song progresses and the lyrics can’t get any sweeter than this: “Nay hoi ong trang tren cao / Co hay toi dang nho nang / Phai chang luc nay nang cung dang nhin ong.” Any man who talks to the moon is simply romantic. I am totally gay for that.

Lastly, I am not ashamed to admit that I get more pleasure listening to Hoang Thuy Linh’s debut than watching her sex video. I viewed the clip once (out of curiosity of course), but I have been enjoying the album over and over again like a bitter cup of coffee. Her sexy voice along with the ingenious beats seduce me. She is more naked on the slow pop ballads, “Cam On Vi Da Yeu Em,” “Anh Co Nho Gi,” “Cho Nhau Loi Di Rieng,” than in the video, in which she appeared extremely uncomfortable even though she was an actress. Her acting on camera had ended, but she was able to transfer her skills to music. When she sings, “Luc em buon anh luon gan ben / Luc em vui nhin anh cuoi theo nhu anh la em,” her emotion is convincing and that is a songstress. As for the rest of the up-tempo numbers including the title track, “Nghe Nay Chang Trai,” “Khoc Lan Cuoi,” I just want to bounce along and she did so without the help from the none-sense raps. Hoang Thuy Linh had done put the Vietnamese pop music on the map and I can’t wait to hear what she’ll have to offer next.

The double-set Highway Rider showcases both of Brad Mehldau’s pianistic virtuosity and artistic versatility. No matter what setting producer Jon Brion placed him in, Mehldau could transform his style and make his piano flows. Backing up by the crisp, hip-hop beat, he gets his swag on in the title track. His playing is no less addictive on the Latin-flavor “Capricco.” Saxophonist Joshua Redman shows up on “Don’t Be Sad” and makes a remarkable impact with his achingly beautiful soprano. From the lively orchestra to Mehldau’s dissonant chords to Redman’s gorgeous tone, the classical-jazz “We’ll Cross the River Together” is the composition that defines the album. Highly recommended!

Politic aside, Asia latest 55 Nam Nhin Lai had a few worth-watching performances. Lam Nhat Tien and Nguyen Hong Nhung kicked off the show with a Doan Chuan and Tu Linh’s medley (“Goi Gio Cho May Ngan Bay” and “La Thu”). Their strong vocals meshed well.

Another great match is Nguyen Khang and Diem Lien on Le Uyen Phuong’s “Vung Lay Cua Chung Ta.” The subtle keyboard licks gave the timeless ballad a bit of jazz flavor. Nguyen Khang also dominated the Phuong Hoang’s medley. His roughness made Doan Phi and Mai Thanh Son sounded like bitches.

Anh Minh was blazing in an uptempo rendition of Y Van’s “Dem Do Thi.” Too bad she only sang half of the song. Mai Le Huyen killed the first half. Ha Vy, Nini and Vina reunited with Van Phung’s “Trang Son Cuoc.” The track was hot; the girls were hotter, especially Nini. Her voice is alright, but she has killer ab and gorgeous face.

I was not too crazy about medleys, but there were some enjoyable ones such as Thanh Thuy on Truc Phuong’s, Ho Hoang Yen and Quoc Khanh on Vu Thanh An’s and Y Phuong and Anh Khoa on Nam Loc’s. I didn’t feel Trinh Cong Son’s medley through Thien Kim and Le Thu. They sounded boring. And the worse medley of all was from no other than Trish and Cardin. I felt so relieve when Cardin announced that he took a break from singing. The little dude should have stayed on hiatus.