With lame-out rap, noon-napping jazz and Chinese-inflected ballad, Nguyen Thang’s My Story should be flopped, but it turns out to be ridiculously addictive. He has an ear for catchy beats and a taste for pop hooks. Most important of all, he knows when to let others do the telling even though the story is his.

The jump-off “Apologize,” ironically featured Thaifoon (should have been the other way around since Nguyen Thang only sings the hook), is about a mundane relationship drama being told through Thaifoon’s robotic flow and elementary rhymes, but the groovy beat and Nguyen Thang’s supporting vocals bring life to the tune. Like his peers, Nguyen Thang is flirting with hip-hop and R&B. Thankfully he doesn’t try to rap. Not that the rap cats on “If Only You Knew” are any good, but they sound so damn aggressive like some gangster shit. It turns out that they were mad at some girl who broke their heart. What kind of a rapper that bitch about that type of shit? As moronic as it sound, the song works. It’s pop music. What do you expect?

Although Nguyen Thang tends to be more westernized, he could move comfortably from English to Vietnamese—something not too many young Vietnamese-American pop stars could accomplish. They either suck at English or Vietnamese, but mostly the latter. His remake of “Xin Cho Mai Yeu,” “Tinh Dau Mai Yeu” (duet with Huy Vu) and “Bien Can” are refreshing despite how many times these two tunes have been covered. The productions play a major role in them, especially when the rap verse in “Xin Mai Cho Em” kicks in and accompanied by the gorgeous saxophone.

Though his flow is too stiff on the smooth-jazz “Autumn Leaves,” at least he’s giving it a try, and the unexpected sax solo on the swing-up break is a nice touch. Overall, My Story is how a pop album should be, except he should have left the fill-in-the-gap chicks with annoying vocals off the album.

Since I only skimmed through Miss Vietnam Global 2007 (even the bikini part), I don’t remember much about the contestants. One in particular, however, stood out to me not because of her beauty (she didn’t even make it to the top 25), but her flowery name: Daisy Lan Huong Lieu. Didn’t remember what she looked like but the name sure stuck.

The music part gets skimmed even quicker. I couldn’t even get through Tran Thu Ha’s performance even with my eyes closed. (I have heard repeatedly from people that she is the type that you listen to and not watch.) Her snoozing, jazzlite cover of Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Dau Tinh Sau” is exactly what she once commented: “Nhạc jazz VN tới nay thường là ‘râu ông nọ cắm cằm bà kia’ hoặc đu đưa cho có vẻ jazz một tí.” And sadly the entertainers get worse from Dam Vinh Hung to Hong Ngoc to Nguyen Thang. Still the most disturbing performance is from Angelina Cat Tien who is an adorable, innocent, little girl dressed up as Barbie and singing “Barbie Girl” backing up by a dozens of dancers around her age (no older than 12). Obviously she is too young to understand the lyrics, but it is quite unsettling when hearing she sings lines like: “Life in plastic, it’s fantastic! / You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere / … / kiss me here, touch me there, hanky panky… / You can touch, you can play, if you say: “I’m always yours.” / … / Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please / I can act like a star, I can beg on my knees.” I just can’t believe the parents who allowed their daughter to portrait such a horror image.

Speaking of image makes me wonder what is the value to a show that competes for external beauty. Nothing wrong with that really except when one of the show’s sponsors, Bich Ngoc Cosmetic Surgery Center, gives away a certificate worth $10,000 to a lucky winner who wishes to change her image if she wasn’t born with a beautiful one. I must hand it to Ms. Bich Ngoc and Dr. Vu Ban for their business mentality. That’s a $10,000 worth of free advertisement for them. If you were that lucky winner, would you come to their clinic after looking at her? I doubt it.

Listening to Mai Quoc Huy’s debut, Hanh Phuc Quanh Day, makes me want to strangle the shit out of that heartless bitch for him. In track one, she left his ass and the kid. In track two, she left his ass once again even though he has done nothing wrong. In track three, he finally realizes that it is time to part.

The drama gets worse as he reflects on the past. He talks to himself at night (Truc Phuong’s “Dem Tam Su”). Even the damn street he walks on carried her name (Truc Phuong’s “Con Duong Mang Ten Em”). Whenever he misses her (Hoang Mai and Thao Trang’s “Nho Nguoi Yeu”) or thinks of her (Ngoc Son’s “Nho Ve Em”), especially at the time when she was 15 (Hoang Phuong’s “Em Con Tuoi 15”), it brings back gloomy memories (To Thanh Son’s “Chut Ky Niem Buon”). Then he ends up drinking like a fish (Chau Ky’s “Tuy Ca”).

What would happen to him next is up the listeners to decide. The possibility is endless. He could drive, while under the influence, to the nearest Wal-Mart, cop a glock and blow his brain out. That way she’ll regret it for the rest of her life, and we all know she doesn’t give a damn.

Hanh Phuc Quanh Day has to be one of the most depressing albums to date. Mai Quoc Huy influenced by Che Linh so much that he could knock Truong Vu off the map and replace their god. Even if the king of “sen” Che Linh decides to retired, we will still hear his voice through his successors, and Mai Quoc Huy is the closest if not exact.

Bang Kieu is the kind of pop singer you either love or love to hate. Love him because he could flight above octaves like a rocket. Love to hate him because dude sounds like a lady, especially on the upper register. So like him or loathe him depends upon whether you could get past the pussiness in his countertenor or not.

Bang Kieu knows that he has the type of timbre that isn’t easy to listen; therefore, he must choose his songs wisely, and he has done so based on his consistent performances on Paris by Night. So on his newest record, Hoai Cam, I am not surprised that his repertoire includes Van Phung’s “Toi Di Giua Hoang Hon,” Pham Duy’s “Mua Thu Chet” and Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi.” They are suitable for his octave-jumping style. “Ban Tinh Cuoi,” in particular, is one of those ballads that listeners just wait to witness how he jumps across the towering bridge without collapsing in the middle. What surprised me though is his rendition of Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Nua Hon Thuong Dau.” Somehow his voice transmutes into a broken-hearted woman whose soul is drowning in a sea of sorrow. His falsetto is just amazing, as if it comes straight from the clit.

Although Hoai Cam is a new album, it isn’t really new. Despite how good his deliveries are, old standards are nothing but old standards. He might have brought some fresh approaches to them, but they have been covered so much that they eventually worn off. It must be really hard to be a Vietnamese hit. They just don’t want to leave you alone, especially big moneymakers like Thuy Nga production.

Not only Mr. Dam refuses to go away, but he also returns with a double album. Ideally, he would like to offer two separate styles, one on each disc, but they ended up sounding the same. No matter how hard he tries, he still can’t get rid of his “sen”-ness.

On the first disc, he turns every romantic ballad into a doleful hymn. Even Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Niem Khuc Cuoi,” which could be a wedding’s first dance, he transforms it into a funeral ode with his over-sentimental delivery. His rendition of Tu Cong Phung’s “Mat Le Cho Nguoi” is more pejorative than Che Linh doing Tuan Ngoc in “Rieng Mot Goc Troi.” Worst is the title track in which he sounds as if he’s suffering from tuberculosis. His tone is fucked up badly.

The second disc, however, is where Mr. Dam hits home. The way he caramelizes Ngan Giang’s “Em Ve Keo Troi Mua” you could make a clay pot fish (ca kho to) with it. All you need is a bowl of room-temperature rice and a cucumber to complete a country-style meal. To Thanh Tung’s “Gia Tu” is also a perfect fit for his maudlin gloss, and I am not even trying to deny the fact that I don’t dislike this campy shit. Just give me a bowl of “bun mam” to complement it.

Even though Mr. Dam is far far away from being the king of “sen” (Che Linh is still holding on to the title), everything he touches gets depressingly contagious. Like AIDS, once you’re caught with the “sen” virus, you’re infected for life. Mr. Dam is incurable anyway.

After the victory of Be in 2005, the Chicago duo, Common and Kanye West, is back once again with Finding Forever using similar formula: concise, straightforward and misogyny-free. The different is that the two artists pushed themselves on the previous, but being too comfortable on the current. West’s beats get lazy after the first three cuts (not including the pointless intro) and Common’s storytelling gets dull in third-person narration despite the exceptional “Drivin’ Me Wild.” The only tales of his own are those banal romances in “I Want You,” “So Far to Go” and “Break My Heart.” Is this a sign of an MC turning softer as he gets older? Common sounds like one even when he attempts to spit hard on “Start the Show.”

Ever since the Buc Tuong disbanded, the hard rock scene in Viet Nam seemed to dismantle as well. Worry no more. Winner of 2006 Sao Mai Diem Hen (Morning Star-Rendezvous) Pham Anh Khoa has teamed up with the multitalented Duc Tri to bring back the noise. Like Buc Tuong, PAK knows how to combine Vietnamese folks with rock. His big, raspy voice and the loud production give “Ly Qua Keu” and “Ngua O Thuong Nho” a bizarre twist. I used to sing these tunes when I was a kid, now I am banging my head to them. This album also represents another creative angle of Duc Tri after his triumphant semi-classical orchestration for Duc Tuan. His rambunctious arrangements push PAK’s powerful vocals to the edge.

Together with his brothers Percy (bass) and Jimmy (saxophone), bop drummer Albert Heath recorded the flavorful Kwanza. While jump-off “Tafadhali” showcases Health’s rhythmic propulsive, “Dunia” demonstrates his ingenious improvisation on the trap set. This rare LP is a must experience for the aficionados.

“Swing ’77” displays an astonishing bond between violinist Don Harper and guitarist Denny Wright. While the violin saws away like a hillbilly, the guitar picks up the Latin vibe over the plucking acoustic bass that swings like a motherfucker. Yet whether Harper and Wright perform as a duo, trio, quartet or sextet, Combo featured some of the most exotic sounds in jazz including the cover of Ellington’s “Mood Indigo” and Rodgers-Hammnerstein II’s “My Favorite Things” made popular by John Coltrane in the 60s. With each track clocking in no longer than four minutes, this LP serves as a delightful appetizer to jazz.

Perhaps the highlights of Iron Man aren’t just the humanized arpeggios from Eric Dolphy’s saxophone on the groovy title track, “Mandrake” and “Burning Spear,” but the funereal tempo on “Come Sunday” and “Ode to C.P.” Dolphy’s flute floats like a soaring eagle over Richard Davis’ pizzicato bass in a tribute to Charlie Parker. Unlike Bird, Dolphy was not a junkie. Like Bird, his death, which caused by diabetes attack, at a young age (36) shocked the world of jazz.