Thai Bao has apparently been around for a while, yet this is the first time I’ve heard of her and it didn’t take long for me to be hooked on her raspy, intimate voice and effortless yet emotional delivery. Her fifth volume, Nghe Giot Nang Phai, is a tight set that could be enjoyed straight through with many savory repeats.

The leadoff track, “Khat Vong Tinh Yeu,” doesn’t impress me at all. The way she stretches the words and her stilted phrasing come off awkward. The silky-smooth sax doesn’t help either. The second track, Diep Minh Tuyen’s “Canh Hoa Luu Ly,” however, is a complete turnaround. She took my breath away with her soul-stirring rendition of the war-sentiment ballad. Accompanied by acoustic picking guitar, she soars like a lonesome bird with despondency and solitude on Thanh Tung’s “Mot Minh.” On Pham Minh Tuan’s “Thanh Pho Tinh Yeu Va Noi Nho,” she pours her heart out on one of the most moving red-music tunes from Viet Nam. (They didn’t grant her the NSUT title for nothing.)

Her version of Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Rieng Mot Goc Troi” comes closest to Tuan Ngoc’s if not as good. Although she couldn’t grab the high notes like him, she could reach the low notes deeper than him. You can feel the complete isolation when she phrases “Toi da choi voi / Rieng mot goc troi.” On Trinh Cong Son’s “Lang Le Noi Nay,” you can hear that she has lived the lyrics and tasted the bittersweet tang of love: “Tinh yeu mat ngot mat ngot tren moi / Tinh yeu mat dang mat dang trong doi.” On Thuan Yen’s “Chia Tay Hoang Hon,” the inexplicable bleakness of her voice makes you want to slit your finger and write “Please don’t go” on a mirror with blood.

Duc Huy’s “Va Con Tim Da Vui Tro Lai” is a perfect album closer. Her voice lights up the dark corners and brings hope to love and forgiveness to life. What makes the album so addictive is that most of the arrangements are kept to the minimal to allow her vocals to do the seductions. The end result is just pure magic. The title of the album is taken from a line from “Rieng Mot Goc Troi” to suggest her voice as “a drop of fading sunshine” but far from waning. To me, her voice is like fine wine that gets better and spicier with age.

Let’s make it official: No rapper could balance pussy and poetry as skillful as Ghostface Killah. Ghostdini, his new release, is the proof. On “Stapleton Sex,” Ghostface takes hardcore pornographic rhymes to a new ground. He spits like a horny bastard on doses of viagra: “Yo my, face is wet, got hair on my tongue / Cause I’m a greedy nigga, absorb pussy juice like a sponge / Feel the pretty warm dick, rub it on your clit / Oh, right before I bust, I spray it on your tits.” Elsewhere, “Do Over” and “Baby” with Raheem DeVaughn on the hooks, Ghostface comes off raw yet strangely charming. Ghostdini is choked full of R&B guest spots, but they don’t get in his way.

In a recent interview, Pham Anh Khoa claims that Lam Sao Noi Het is his best album ever. Giving that he only released two CDs, what he really mean is that he can’t make any record louder and more obnoxious than this. On the title track, he can’t seem to say everything so he wails over the noisy rock guitar riffs. “Throw Away” would be a more suitable title for this album. Yes, please throw this shit away.

This Colombian sex symbol sure knows how to work your hip as well as your hormone. Shakira’s new release, She Wolf, bounces from start to finish. While the groovy beats try to shake you, her words try to mind-sex you. On the catchy-ass Pharrell Williams-produced “Long Time,” she moans, “And when you think I can take no more / Just keep on going.” On the highly-addictive “Why Wait,” also produced by Pharrell Williams, she teases, “Why wait for later? / Hey don’t you want some action / I’m not a waiter / I like to make things happen.” Fuck yeah, let’s get it on.

Michael Bublé doesn’t need to rock. He just needs to swing. Unfortunately Bublé spends way too much time crooning soft-rock ballads on his new release Crazy Love. “Cry Me a River” starts off promising. The slick arrangement works wonders with his charming tenor. “All of Me” shows off Bublé’s swinging swag. But then the album begins to sink with “Georgia On My Mind.” He has to bring it if he goes against Ray Charles. From the title track to “Heartache Tonight,” Bublé tries to floss his way around the boring pop-rock numbers with not so much excitements.

Nowadays many young singers cover classic ballads, yet hardly any of them could give new life to the old songs. They either sound mad lazy or extremely uninspired. So far, Duong Quoc Hung is the exception. On his debut Chot Nho, Duong Quoc Hung actually sounds passionate as he breathes fresh air into the timeless tunes with the help of Nhat Trung.

Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi” has been sung as a duet countless of times before, but Duong Quoc Hung and Phuong Trinh managed to make it their own. Phuong Trinh’s slightly husky, sultry vocals is a perfect match to Duong Quoc Hung’s soulful voice. They have done a superb job of supporting each other. I can’t ask for more. On Truong Sa’s “Xin Con Goi Ten Nhau,” Duong Quoc Hung maneuvers his flow effortlessly around Nhat Trung’s straight-forward, intoxicating bossa nova groove. “Mot Mai Em Di,” also by Truong Sa, gets a surprisingly pleasurable tango flavor. His version of Dien An’s “Vet Thuong Cuoi Cung” is refreshingly fervent and his rendition of Lam Phuong’s “Phut Cuoi” is so damn mesmerizing without having to belting out like diva Bang Kieu. Trinh Cong Son’s “Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong” would have been fantastic without Nhat Trung. I just want to bitch slap the dude for singing like a spineless bitch like, “ru maaai ngaan naaam.” He should have just stayed behind the board and not in the booth.

On the two newer tracks, Nhat Trung’s “Chot Nho” and Le Quang’s “Loi Tu Biet Tinh Yeu,” Duong Quoc Hung’s poignant delivery came through. He seems to make very wise choice in his song selections. Every tune was successful executed and each one displayed his range. This debut shows tremendous potential. Let’s hope he won’t fuck up.

Cam Ly is apparently not a very exciting singer. On her new release, Em Khong The Quen, she gives an oral report instead of singing Minh Vy’s mundane, Chinese-inflected songs. She hardly pushes her delivery simply because her range is as wide as a virgin’s ass. She sounds consistently flat throughout the album. “Cafe Miet Vuon” is the only tune she switches up her tone to mimic a jealous wife—something Minh Tuyet would have made more convincing. In fact, Minh Tuyet covers most of the sister’s songs with much more success. This one is going to be a Minh Tuyet’s record as well.

This debut release marks the emancipation of Hoa Mi after twenty years on hiatus. Through the test of time, the nightingale’s soprano shows no sign of deterioration. She still sounds sensational and sentimental on classic songs like Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi,” Lam Phuong’s “Mot Minh” and Trinh Cong Son’s “Ru Ta Ngam Ngui.” Unfortunately, Bao Chan’s lackluster arrangements aren’t doing her ageless voice the service. Even on his own tune, “Ben Em La Bien Rong,” he brings nothing but a smooth, snoring flavor that is perfect for airplane restaurants.

Like the Chinese Twelve Girls Band, Co La is a group made up of seven beautiful Vietnamese ladies who were academically trained in traditional instruments including the bamboo flute, zither, pipa and monochord. On its debut, Dau Cham Hoi, the band brings old instruments as well as modern electronics to Vietnamese popular tunes.

Nguyen Cuong’s “Dan Cam,” highlight of the album, gets a mesmerizing fusion between eastern traditional sounds and western rhythm. The tune kicks off with the northern folksy intro and then proceeded into an upbeat tempo courtesy of Roland TR-808. While the beat is bouncy, the traditional instruments play in unison and the powerful voice never led up. “Ngua O Hue” also stands out. Love the Hue accent and the sawing of the two-stringed dan nhi to make the horse’s neighing effect.

Van Cao’s “Suoi Mo” starts off with the sensational bamboo flute taking listeners into the dreamy state of mind. The sixteen-stringed zither (dan tranh) and the monochord (dan bau) are no less hypnotizing. Trinh Cong Son’s “Hoa Vang May Do” is just achingly beautiful when being revived with traditional instruments.

When being asked about the name Co La “Rare Grass,” a member explains that grass is everywhere, but this is not just the ordinary, wild grass. I wonder if it’s the I-can-roll-it-and-smoke-it type. It’s indeed a different kind.

Following the current trend, Hong Ngoc released two albums at once to target different demographics. Vet Thuong Cuoi Cung, which featured classic tunes, is for the old heads. Qua Khu, which featured come-and-gone pop hits, is for the young fans.

On Vet Thuong Cuoi Cung, Hong Ngoc obviously tries to throw a bone for the old folks. She makes no investment in the productions and she covers each song in her sleep. The beats get drowsy; her voice gets drowsier. She simply puts Trinh Nam Son’s “Di Vang” out of its misery and into an afternoon nap. I hope that Lam Phuong won’t listen to her rendition of “Co Ua.” He might get another stroke.

The good thing about Vet Thuong Cuoi Cung is that the album makes Qua Khu more listenable. Although Hong Ngoc has such an old, smoky and husky voice, the best she could do is singing instant pop songs. On the title track, she means every word she sings: “Nhung than oi long nguoi thay doi / Anh ra di chi gi qua khu cua em / Qua khu ngay xua anh da chap nhan de den ben em.” Any lyrics with the words “anh ra di,” she nailed them. On “An Nan Muon Mang,” she cries like rain on the chorus: “Gio day anh da ra di / Anh quyet ra di / Bo mat em voi bao dam me muon phien / Em khoc nhu mua / Anh van quay di / Vi trai tim anh da qua suc nguoi oi.”

Qua Khu testifies that Hong Ngoc still holds her spot as a star in the pop market. Moving beyond that, however, is out of her reach and Vet Thuong Cuoi Cung is a proof.