In my initial review of Kanye West’s 808’s and Heartbreak, I was too quickly turned off by Auto-Tune that I didn’t give the album an opportunity to grow on me. After many revisits, I am starting to convince that Kanye has made a good use out of the tool. He can’t sing, yet he didn’t use Auto-Tune to enhance his vocals. His pitch and breath issues could be heard all over the tracks; however, he used the program to create a unique voice.

On the contagious “Love Lockdown,” Kanye starts off singing over the thumping bass. The best use of Auto-Tune is on the high register where he distorts his voice into a screeching alien. Of course the catchy chorus is highlight of the track. The drum loop is just irresistible. “Coldest Winter” is another highly addictive track with the banging beat. Lyrically, Kanye still has his witty moment. On “Welcome to Heartbreak” he rhymes, “My friend showed me pictures of his kids / All I could show was pictures of my cribs / He said that his daughter got a brand new report card / All I go was a brand new sports car.”

The album has quite a share of its dull tracks, but there are a still a number of outstanding ones including “Say You Will,” “Heartless” and “Amazing” featuring Young Jeezy. The most accomplishment of 808’s and Heartbreak is that Kanye has proved his originality, talent and fearlessness in taking his music to a higher level.

Ngo Thanh Van has stepped up her game. Her newest release, Nuoc Mat Thien Than, proves that her music has been upgraded from really bad to not so bad. She knows that her fragile voice alone can’t carry the album; therefore, she relies on the beats and the rapping to make up for her singing.

With infectious, club-driven beats and tolerable raps, NTV cuts the most listenable record so far in her singing career. From the rock-hip hop “Di Tim Binh Yen” to the highly catchy “Mai Mat Nhau” to the booty-shaking “Tinh Yeu Nhac Nhoa,” Nuoc Mat Thien Thien comes on like an all-night-out party taking the girls out of school and into the dark, wild club. Put this record on high volume and you’ll guarantee to be sweat.

Of course the album isn’t perfect and NTV has her limitations. Her weak voice is not ready (or may never been ready) to take on slow-pop songs like “Khi Tinh Yeu Den,” “Tham Mong” and “Giot Nuoc Mat Mau Den.” Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have imagined that she could make some improvements. The album hits the mark for clubbing functionality.

This is a very different record of Trong Tan. For one, he doesn’t pound the songs with his sledgehammer-like voice. For two, he tries to sing northern folk music that requires tremendous versatility. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the chops to maneuver his way around the nuances of Quan Ho. Sort of like banh beo without fish sauce; his flow misses the key ingredient to deliver the folk tunes. Standout is the title track thanks to the jazz tinge and Thanh Thanh Hien whose vocals give colors to song.

With seventeen tracks clocking in around an hour and twenty minutes, Ho Ngoc Ha’s latest release, Noi Em Gap Anh, is unnecessary long. The record goes into one ear and out the other. Except for her timbre, which has become raspier, nothing is worth noting. While her sentimental vocals on Trinh Cong Son’s “Bien Nho” try to capture your heart, the glossy, poppy production tries to capture your feet. Not sure if you should break down and cry or break down and dance. Still, nothing beats her duet with Duc Tri on “Van Biet The.” Like the title suggested, he already knew he can’t, but he still sings. Do us all a favor by staying behind the board and away from the booth, dude.

What is going with the Vietnamese male singers these days? Most of them sound so dieu (rounded). Le Anh Dung ruins his debut, Duong Cam Thu Khong Em, with his word-molding phrasing. He wrecks the gorgeous semi-classical arrangements with his flowery flow. His take on Tran Hoang’s “Em Nghi Gi Khi Mua Xuan Den” is simply too wimpy. His vocal instructor should have cracked his ass every time he sounded like boneless bitch. Eventually he would straighten up.

How does Pink deal with a heartbreak? She rocks it out. Right from the opening lines of her latest album, Funhouse, Pink wastes no time addressing her breakup: “Guess I just lost my husband / I don’t know where he went / So I’m gonna drink my money / I’m not gonna pay his rent.” Pink has divorced from her husband, but not from the pop hook. Even her emotion is married to the hook. For the most part, Pink buries her bitterness under the sweet beats and punchy lines with the exception of “One Foot Wrong,” in which her powerful voice becomes raspy and husky as she bares out her soul and raw emotion.

Not a bad start at all for a Vietnamese jazz record. Le Thanh Hai’s Shadow in the Dark gives Vietnamese ballads a jazz interpretation. The good thing about covering old tunes is that listeners are already familiar with the melodies. The only challenge part is to take the tunes out of their written notes with improvisations.

Van Phung’s “Toi Di Giua Hoang Hon” gets a simple, straightforward, mid-tempo swing. The keyboard and guitar kick off with the original melody on the first two sections. The keyboard returns with a solo and then back to the melody. The band drops out to let the keyboard continues its brief improvisation. The bass, guitar and drums take their turn to solo, and then everyone come in to take the tune out. Except for the stilted, forced guitar solo, the tune as a whole works out well on the minimal structure. The smooth saxophone on Huynh Anh’s “Thuo Ay Co Em” is on the verge of being jazzy, but the infectious bass lines save the track. Likewise, the thumping bass brings rhythmic and liveliness to the bluesy vibes on Nguyen Anh 9’s “Co Don” and Duc Huy’s “Con Mua Phun.”

Although Filipino singer Arlene Estrella has a dark, smoky voice, her English takes on Duong Thu’s “Bong Toi Ly Café” and “Em Di Qua Toi” aren’t convincing. The authenticity is lost in translation. The tunes should have sung in Vietnamese. Nevertheless, the direction in Shadow of the Dark is definitely an excellent initiative in merging jazz and Vietnamese music. It sure beats the kind of crap that have been pumping out by big productions lately.

You can put lipstick on a pig. It’s still a pig. No, I am not comparing Nhu Loan to a pig. She looks too damn sexy to be a pig. I am referring to her limited vocals. Unlike her breasts, which are visually stunning thanks to augmentation, her voice remain unchanged no matter how much digital enhancement it has gone through. She can hide, but she can’t sing.

Once again, her sophomore release, Trai Tim Da Duoc Yeu, testifies that a hot chick can’t make a hot record. The title track begins with her Auto-Tuned acappella. (Trust me, you don’t want to hear her voice naked.) The smooth, snoozing saxophone picks up and her cottony voice floats like air over the tiresome, shiny beat. Her voice gets thinner and lighter on Christian Bautista’s “The Way You Look at Me.” On Sy Dan’s “Hat Nang Con Lai,” the producer has to incorporate fart noises to distract attention away from her weak vocals. “Que Huong,” a dedication to her mother, is the most horrendous rendition ever recorded. Her emotionless flow and monotonous phrasing make you feel like her homeland is an extremely boring place where you just want sleep.

Don’t give me wrong. I am not a hater. In fact, I have mad love for Nhu Loan. Thuy Nga’s stage wouldn’t be the same without her presence. I am sure many of the fellows will miss her too. Although she can’t bare her soul, she has something else to bare.

To Be Free: The Nina Simone Story is an extraordinary box set that captures Simone’s artistic personality, versatility and audacity. Through 51 tracks, listeners will get a taste of her boundless musical repertoire ranging from jazz, blues, folk, funk, pop, soul, rock, reggae, Broadway, movie soundtracks, French chanson, standards to protest songs. With her smoky contralto, fearless interpretation and limitless imagination, Simone mastered all the styles effortlessly. Although the collection features a handful of studio hits, the real treats are the live recordings. Simone was not only an amazing live singer, but also an astonishing pianist. This fine set is not to be missed.

Van Son production is dead. The latest release, Que Huong Gap Lai, is a proof that the production has no creativity left. I try my best to find something nice to say, but can’t even come up with one. Not even a single music performance or a skit I could enjoy. Yes, it was that bad.

Van Son’s music is plunging even deeper than the Dow Jone. It’s beyond recession and more like depression when Che Linh and his clones dominated the stage. From Che Linh to Che Phong to Truong Vu, I thought I was watching Vietnamese Groundhog Day. Listening to Linda Chow’s Chinese-Vietnamese shouting (not singing), I was wondering how in the world did she land the contract? She is not that hot looking either. The only reason I could think of is that Van Son is trying to compete with Asia’s Thai Doanh Doanh to see who is the worse of the worse. Even Diem Lien’s rendition of Pham Duy’s “Nha Trang Ngay Ve” was a disaster. She almost turned the reflective tune into a drama opera and the band tried to swing behind her. The music and the voice didn’t even blend.

The comedies, which had been Van Son’s strongest selling point, had turned into desperate clowning for some cheap chuckles. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cringe when two grown-ass men running around the stage with nothing but banana leaves wrapping around their body. Please Viet Thao and Bao Liem, I beg of you to stop making embarrassing shtick. If it’s an obsession, get help.

Mr. Van Son, do us all a favor. Cease and desist exploiting the Vietnamese pop culture whether you have intended or not. It really is a damn shame.