“Biết tình yêu là thuốc đắng/Vẫn uống như ban đầu.” Diên An gào thét lên trong “Cuộc Đời Quá Ngán,” ca khúc mở đầu cho album Nhan Sắc. Khi lên cao, giọng Diên An rè đến nổi nghe như cái dây âm thanh đã bị ném vào máy sấy quần áo cùng với những hòn đá nhỏ. Nhưng nhờ vậy mà bài pop-rock này nghe mạnh mẻ và đầy nổ lực.

Nhan Sắc là album đầu tay của Diên An cộng tác với nhạc sĩ Tuấn Khanh, người sáng tác và đảm nhiệm về phần hòa âm trong đĩa nhạc. Bài tựa đề của album khá xuất sắc. Giọng khàn khàn của Diên An rất hợp với lối đệm của guitar và nhịp điệu R&B.

Tiếc rằng sau hai bài đầu Nhan Sắc trở nên lười biếng. Với giai điệu rời rạc và lời ca nhợt nhạt, “Buồn Hơn” nên thêm vào “Ngủ” ở giữa cho đúng nghỉa của bài hát. Kèn trumpet yếu ớt và synthesizer biến bài funk-jazz “Em Lấy Đi Mùa Xuân” thành smooth-jazz, nghe mà ngáp mãi không ngừng.

I wrote the introduction for this piece in English, but decided to switch to Vietnamese simply because I haven’t written anything in Vietnamese for a while. Besides, I had briefly mentioned the album a few years ago in English and called it a quintessential Vietnamese music. After pouring my heart out on the page, I shared it with Dana. Her immediate question was, “Did you use Google Translate?” She had to edit it to make my Vietnamese sounds more like a human than a software. Mad props go out to her.

Mỗi lúc lái xe giữa đêm khuya trên xa lộ, tôi thường lắng nghe Giọt Lệ Cho Ngàn Sau – Tình Khúc Từ Công Phụng, một tác phẩm để đời của Tuấn Ngọc. Từ chất giọng trầm ấm của Tuấn Ngọc đến lời nhạc gần gũi và sâu lắng của nhạc sĩ Từ Công Phụng, cùng lối hòa âm mềm mại nhưng không thiếu sự lối cuốn của Duy Cường, tôi luôn như ở trong một khoảng không gian khác, bình yên và sảng khoái, như chưa từng có những muộn phiền trong tôi.

Trên đường về thăm ngoại, khi hai mẹ con đã chìm sâu trong giấc ngủ, chỉ còn lại một mình, tôi lại đến với Giọt Lệ Cho Ngàn Sau. Trong bóng tối của màn đêm, tôi trải lòng mình cùng từng lời ca, nốt nhạc. “Giọt nước mắt xót xa/ Nhỏ xuống trái tim khô/ Một đời tôi tê tái,” tôi như cảm nhận được sự cô đơn, hiu quạnh của một người lang thang trong tiết thu lạnh lẽo. Giọng ca Tuấn Ngọc hay. Hay không chỉ ở chỗ anh có thể hát những nốt cao, mà cái hay của giọng ca này còn được tăng lên gấp bội khi anh điêu luyện nối tiếp qua câu kế, “Lắng nghe muôn cung sầu hắt xuống đời,” mà không dừng lại ở “tê tái”. Cách hát nối tiếp này nghe qua thì cho là dể dàng nhưng thể hiện được thì lại rất khó.

Một trong những lối trình bày ca khúc rất riêng của Tuấn Ngọc là hát nửa hay một tông cao hơn bài nhạc đã viết. Trong “Trên Tháng Ngày Đã Qua,” anh hát bốn câu đầu thấp trong tiếng đệm dương cầm êm dịu, nhưng khi lối hòa âm chuyển sang theo kiểu Latin, anh đã hát cao hơn một tông. Đồng thời anh ca chậm hơn nhịp một chút, để mang lại nét lạ cho bài hát. Như trong “Mắt Lệ Cho Người,” một bài hát mà có nhiều ca sĩ đã hát qua, Tuấn Ngọc với nét riêng của mình đã làm bài hát trở nên khác lạ hơn, nổi bật hơn. Khi anh hát “Em thấy không cõi đời vô vọng,” ta như cảm nhận được nỗi muộn phiền như tuyệt vọng của một cuộc tình dang dở. Lối hòa âm bán cổ điển của Duy Cường tạo thêm cảm xúc sâu sắc, nhưng sẽ hoàn hảo hơn nếu đoạn cuối của “Mắt Lệ Cho Người” được kết thúc dứt khoát vào cuối nhịp thay vì là tiếng nhạc nhỏ dần đi đến hết.

Với ca từ lãng mạn cùng với cách diễn tả tự nhiên rất nam tính của Tuấn Ngọc, “Tình Tự Mùa Xuân” trở nên giản dị, ấp ủ yêu thương. “Em, lại đây với anh/ngồi đây với anh/ trong cuộc đời này,” chỉ cần bấy nhiêu thôi cũng đủ diễn tả trọn vẹn một tình yêu sâu đậm. Có lúc hạnh phúc thì cũng có lúc đau thương. Trong “Lời Cuối”, Tuấn Ngọc đã diễn tả trọn vẹn sự nuối tiếc, xót xa cho những kỷ niệm đã qua, “Kỷ niệm nào như muốn khóc…/Nên tôi, xin một lần được trao hết cho nhau.” Anh đã khéo léo khi chọn bài hát này làm bài cuối cùng trong đĩa nhạc, như thể anh đang bùi ngùi gởi đến người nghe lời chia tay tạm biệt, “Đường vào ngày mai sỏi đá/ Thôi em về quên hết đi ngày xưa.”

Nếu tôi có thể lựa chọn 100 dĩa nhạc xuất sắc nhất trong làng âm nhạc Việt Nam, tôi nhất định sẽ chọn Giọt Lệ Cho Ngàn Sau. Trong suốt mười ca khúc, từ lời ca, lối hòa âm cho đến cách thể hiện và diễn tả, mỗi ca khúc là một tác phẩm riêng đặc sắc không bị lập lại hay mờ nhạt. Với tôi đây là một dĩa nhạc vượt thời gian, vì hơn mười năm qua, tôi luôn tìm đến nó mỗi lúc muốn trải mình cùng âm nhạc.

My Le has a gorgeous high pitch and a touch of coarseness in her timbre, which has built up over the years. With the right tunes, she could soar. Unfortunately, she wastes too much time chasing that “Van Trang Dem Troi.” With her new release, Tinh, she takes on some standards that suit her voice.

My Le had an interesting interpretation of Trinh Cong Son’s music. Her version of “Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong” back in My Nhan Ngu stood out from the rest of sugary, forgettable pop tunes. On Tinh, two excellent numbers also came from Trinh’s repertoire. Her take on “Xin Cho Toi” is spellbinding thanks to the smokiness in her voice. She sounds rough on the surface, but sweet and emotional in the core. “Dau Chan Dia Dang” possesses the same sentimental rawness she brings to Trinh’s lyricism.

On Truong Sa’s “Mot Mai Em Di,” she sounds soulful but breathy. Weakest tracks are the cha-cha rendition of Nguyen Anh 9’s “Tinh Yeu Den Trong Gia Tu” and pop-ballad “Tinh.” The mechanical productions make her boring. Pham Duy’s “Tieng Dan Toi” would have been hypnotic if the arrangement is scaled down to just a simple acoustic guitar. The glossy beat reduces the emotion of the vocals.

Sade, the queen of understatement, and her minimalist musicians stir up some more quiet storms on Soldier of Love, their sixth studio release. The power of simplicity is strongest on the haunting beauty of “Morning Bird.” Accompanied by the spare piano chords and crisp tambourine rhythms, Sade sounds like a voluntarily trapped bird: “If you set me free, I will not run.” On the title track, Sade skillfully allows the sharp snare drums cuts through her smoky, soulful contralto like a soldier of love who has been torn up inside. “The Safest Place,” in which she sings with heartaches along the simple strumming guitar, quietly but unforgettably closes out the spellbinding album. As a mature artist with twenty-five year career under her belt, Sade knows how to do more with less and I am down with that.

Xuan Khoi sounds so much like Tuan Ngoc, only sleepier. In fact, Tuan Ngoc is all over his new album, Chieu Mot Minh Qua Pho. As soon as Xuan Khoi begins to sing the first bar on the opening track, Tu Cong Phung’s “Tren Thang Ngay Da Qua,” you can immediately recognize the phrasing. Even the music is arranged in Duy Cuong’s Latin flavor.

Like many of Tuan Ngoc’s followers, Xuan Khoi isn’t capable of reaching the upper register with ease, a skill that sets Tuan Ngoc apart from his imitators. Tuan Ngoc’s influence is even more transparent on Tu Cong Phung’s “Tinh Tu Mua Xuan.” Not only his phrasing, but his flow and his vibrato come straight from Tuan Ngoc’s classic rendition. The difference is that Xuan Khoi gets shaky on the long notes and he lacks the romance and authority Tuan Ngoc brought to the tune. Obviously Duy Cuong’s semi-classical orchestration is unmatchable.

The whole time I am listening to Xuan Khoi, yet all I could think about is Tuan Ngoc. From Pham Duy’s “Tinh Cam” to Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ao Lua Ha Dong” to Nguyen Trung Cang’s “Bang Khuan Chieu Noi Chu,” Xuan Khoi simply can’t escape Tuan Ngoc’s shadow. Both Xuan Khoi and I have one thing in common: we spend way too much time with the musician’s musician. My suggestion to Xuan Khoi is to stop listening to Tuan Ngoc, stay away from Tuan Ngoc’s repertoire, and don’t even think about covering Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Rieng Mot Goc Troi.”

On her new release, Nguoi Dan Ba Di Nhat Mat Troi, Thien Kim sounds bored out of her fucking mind. When taking on Truc Ho’s tunes in particular, what she really trying to tell him is, “Come on, boss! Do I really have to sing these songs again? Haven’t Lam Nhat Tien and Lam Thuy Van already covered the shit out of them?”

On the remixed version of Truc Ho’s “Vang Trang Tinh Yeu,” she delivers the track like she’s trying to catch some sleep than the club beat. Same goes toward the wimpy cha-cha on “Se Hon Bao Gio Het,” she wants to be cuddle under the sheet more than anything else. The lame-out, upbeat remix of “Mai Yeu Nguoi Thoi” shows that Mr. Truc Ho’s creativity has drought out. Like a manufacture, he makes beats to meet productions rather than expectations.

The most heartfelt moment on here—there has to be something—is unsurprisingly not from Truc Ho. Accompanied by Truc Sinh’s picking guitar and spare-arranged strings, Thien Kim pours out her heart and soul to express Van Dong (Duc Tien)’s lyrical emotion on the title track. Words of advice to “Nguoi Dan Ba Di Nhat Mat Troi”: It’s time to pick up the sun outside of Asia’s sky.

With Dam Vinh Hung as his mentor, no wonder Duong Trieu Vu is a fucktard. His latest release, Mai Mai Ben Em, goes beyond mediocre thanks to Mr. Dam who translated two tunes exclusively for this album. “Nguoi La Ai, O Dau?” is one of those Chinese-melody songs that has translated into many Vietnamese versions. Same music, different words, good job, Mr. Dam!

If we were to take Vietnamese words off the album, Mai Mai Ben Em sounds more like a Chinese record. From “Xa Em Ky Niem” to “Dung Lua Doi Nhau” to “Sad Without You,” there is nada Vietnamese aesthetics in those songs. Even a Vietnamese tune written by a Vietnamese writer, like Yen Lam’s “Rat Muon,” the nursery rap and the Chinese-inflected hook don’t give the listeners a hint of Vietnamese culture. Without reading the credit, one wouldn’t have known that the song is Vietnamese.

With Jimmy Nguyen’s “Mai Mai Ben Em,” Le Quyen’s recent version puréed Duong Trieu Vu’s into baby food from her authoritative vocals to the elegant arrangement. On Do Dinh Phuc’s “Trai Tim Cho Em,” another heavily Chinese-influenced, you can hear Mr. Dam all over it. From song selection to the album art, Mr. Dam is pretty much shaped the direction. Just look at the ridiculous album cover: Duong Trieu Vu looks like he’s posing for an energy-drink commercial.

Viet Thao issued yet another warning to the audience in Atlanta. Nhung Cung Dieu Que Minh could be the last show from Van Son entertainment if the bootlegging problem won’t resolved. I urge you to go buy original DVDs from Van Son. Even if you can’t save the artless Titanic from sinking, you can at least help Van Son buy his dancers some decent outfits. From the performance of Cat Tien to Le Nguyen to the group’s closing, the dancers’ clothes (T-shirts and jeans) looked as if they were purchased from New York Chinatown for a dollar a pop.

Worst was Ngoc Ha’s outfit in “Con Co.” That dress looks like it was purchased on the clearance rack the day after Halloween. The outfit has nothing to do with a songbird, but more like a cheap ho. Ngoc Ha has gone from classy to trashy and her cans looked like they were upgraded. What the fuck is wrong with her? A gorgeous voice is now accompanied by a sex-up image.

Speaking of sex, Van Son’s production is laced with sexual references. The standup comedy between Van Son and Bao Quoc is outright disgusting. Hearing two old men talk dirty is really nasty, not funny. Bao Quoc came across like an old dirty, horny bastard, but that is nothing comparing to Viet Thao’s rapping. It’s really embarrassing to see a grown-ass man rapping none-sense and had the ball to say it’s “rap not rape.” You were raping hip-hop, Mr. Thao.

Why a guy would need surgery is beyond me, but Vietnamese operatic singer Linh Tam creeps me out as soon as the camera zoomed into his face. His eyes, nose and lips are so fucked up that you can’t tell if he’s turning into a she or vice versa. Van Son has recruited some really weird-ass people on the show like a guy who plays the flute with his nose and a bogus magician even though magician’s act is the most enjoyable part of the the show. The only visual attraction is Hoang Thuc Linh whose look is 8 out of 10, but whose voice is 4 out of 10.

If this is the kind of crap Van Son put out, he might as well close up shop. It seems like he has nowhere else to go, but down.

It’s a nice change to hear young singers like Phuong Vy and Le Hieu get intimate with old ballads and it’s also a treat to hear Duc Tri refreshes these standards with a touch of jazz. Mua Thu Cho Em is not a new concept. Duc Tri cut a similar record four years ago with Duc Tuan and Ho Ngoc Ha on Ao Anh. Nothing wrong with repeating a success.

The album kicks off with a duet take on Y Van’s “Nhung Buoc Chan Am Tham.” This tune has been arranged before with an uptempo, but Duc Tri slows it down with a Latin flavor. Between the two, Le Hieu is obviously more experienced than Phuong Vy on covering old standards; therefore, he saves most of the duet tracks, particularly Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Ca Cho Em.” As for his solo, his bluesy take on Tran Thien Thanh’s “Lau Dai Tinh Ai,” is nowhere near Thuy Vu’s funky rendition. His nasal voice is far less sexy than Thuy Vu’s deep tenor.

Phuong Vy on the other hand lacks the interpretational skills on how to approach a standard. She also lacks the breath control. Her version of Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi” is the weakest I have heard. She chooses to restraint yourself instead of taking up an octave on the bridge even though she is capable of soaring. Her rendition of Y Van’s “60 Nam Cuoc Doi” is a proof. Duc Tri turns this tune into a shouting blue, but he also cleverly added an r&b rhythm to it. The result is stunning as Phuong Vy shows her confidence in kicking her vocals up a notch. Unfortunately, she ruined the song with her English fluffing.

Even though the vocals aren’t up to par, Duc Tri managed to created a decent pop album with his minimal, elegant arrangements. That alone proves that he’s talented producer.

Thanh Thao is not a bitch of a singer, but she is a bitch of the dance floor. On Dance Remix 2010, she packs together a bunch of mediocre hits and take them both to night and fitness clubs.

What makes Thanh Thao still has her foot in the pop scene all these years is her investment in productions. Mad props to the producers for the bass-pumping, energetic beats on the medleys that are helping me burning my calories. Even my little boy bounces when I play this record.

Thanks to the 808 drum machine, you can still get up and move your body to the most heart-breaking, close-to-reality lyrics: “Em khong tin xa nhau anh song mot minh anh… Neu khong tai anh thi em da co mot tinh yeu.” Although buried inside those pulsating bass and Chinese strings, her emotion and honesty delivered, as if underneath all the noisiness is a lonesome soul desiring to be heard.

Grabbing your heart while moving your feet is not easy to accomplish, but Thanh Thao has pulled it off. Ain’t that a bitch? Even though this is just the beginning of 2010, Remix is easily a dance record of the year.