My patience is running out on Tung Duong. After his luminous Chay Tron debuted, he’s on the hideout for real. With the title track and “Trang Khat,” he got me so excited about the Vietnamese jazz scene. His thick, soulful voice combined with his potential to scat like a trumpet gave me so much hope, but he has nothing to follow up with for more than two years. Don’t sleep on me, man.

Since I already gave this album my 2 cents, let’s look at it in a different perspective—the art of crafting an album. As much as I adore the little iPod Shuffle, I gave it to my sister who could use it for exercise routine because I am not the type that listen to all the hits or only my favorites. I like to spend time with an entire CD, especially with hip-hop joints, to get a complete experience of what the artist is trying to communicate. Most of the time, Vietnamese singers just throw in a bunch of songs together to make an album. Rarely do they think about how an album should start or end, but Chay Tron is not the case. I am not sure if Le Minh Son did it consciously or unconsciously, but the songs fall together so perfect that the sequence created an epic. In the course of endless listening, I have noted some fluff on how the album is like a little fancy tale. It could be just my own imagination, but what the heck. Imagination is all I have, and it has been running pretty wild lately. So read on at my own peril.

Yeu

He’s wandering by himself searching for her in his dream. She is untouchable.

Chay Tron

He’s reminiscing the good old days when they still played hide and seek. She was his first sweet love.

Trang Khuyet

But the painful part comes when he reflects on their quarrels. Mad at him, she threw the moon back to the sky.

Lua Mat Em

When she was mad, he could see the fire in her eyes. She was burning like hell.

Trang Khat

Although he could see the flame in her complexions, she was still as beautiful as the moon and river.

Den Ben Anh Diu Dang

And when she came to him, she brought him joy and happiness.

Oi Que Toi

Who is she? It turns out that he’s referring to her as his homeland all these time.

After she did such a wonderful job with Ngoc Ha’s Nuoc Mat Mua Thu, I challenged her to take on Y Lan’s Hoi Tinh. As a chemical engineer who writes instructions on how to operate pharmaceutical equipments, could she move beyond her dried, mechanical style into something creative and erotic? To my surprise, she did not only nailed the translation, but also makes it more sensual than my original intention with her good use of Vietnamese.

Ý Lan là một trong những người đàn bà không muốn trưởng thành. Cũng chẳng tội tình gì, tuy cũng có lúc cô cũng đáng bị đét cho vài cái bởi cái tính ỏng ẹo như đứa con gái mới lớn, khi mà cô đã bước qua cái tuổi 50. Làm sao thay đổi bây giờ, bởi chính cô cũng thừa nhận đó là cái tính bẩm sinh của mình. Cô là một người đàn bà sở hửu một trái tim non dại, một tâm hồn trẻ trung và tràn đầy dục cảm.

Khi mới nghe qua đĩa nhạc Hỏi Tình mới nhất của Ý Lan, tôi lấy làm khó hiểu không biết cái dụng ý của cô là gì. Nhạc truyền thống, nhạc jazz, tình ca, và cả liên khúc hổn độn. Nhưng sau khi nghe lại một vài lần, tôi chợt hiểu thì ra đây là một động tình chứa đầy sự cám dỗ. Cô mời gọi tình yêu với “Hỏi Tình” để rồi van xin tình yêu đến với mình trong khi cô “Còn chất chứa tình yêu một thời để rồi nghe tàn phai / Bóng anh xa dần mãi còn lại tôi giữa cơn đau này” (“Còn Nghe Tiếng Gọi”). Trong “Anh Là Tất Cả,” cô thao thức trông chờ ban mai đến để được đến với tình vì chỉ có tình mới xoa tan mọi lo lắng phiền muộn trong cô. “Thôi thì… thôi thì… như thế cũng xong / Bao năm… bao năm chăn gối trông hòng gì đâu? / Đắng cay hờn tủi đã nhiều / Lệ tuôn như đổ trăm chiều khô đâu.” Cũng dể hiểu thôi, ở cùng lứa tuổi với cô có bao nhiêu người đàn ông có thể chìu chuộng cô như thời còn trai trẻ. Cô cần một gã thanh niên cường tráng để có thể song hành với cô trong cơn thác loạn (“Đêm Thấy Ta Là Thác Đổ”). Tiếng rên rỉ trong “Áo Lụa Hà Đông” như để khoấy động lòng người. Và như thể là chưa đủ, cô buông lời trêu gẹo lúc “Khỏa Thân Đêm,” để làm cho ta thêm thèm khát.

Có thể không ưa cái ỏng ẻo của Ý Lan, nhưng phải nói cái tính này đôi lúc cũng làm cho con người ta thèm ước. Không nên nghe dĩa nhạc này nêu như ta là kẻ ngoan đạo bởi nó sẽ đẩy ta vào con đường tội lỗi. Đó là trái với lời dạy của Chúa.

After posting Pham Duy’s juicy “Thien Duyen Tinh Mong,” a reader sent me something even better—an album of Pham Duy dedicated to provocative sex entitled Nhuc Tinh Ca. Before each song begins, Pham Duy gives us a brief introduction of the erotic content. The track that grabbed my attention is a Japanese-translated “Nguoi Tinh Ben Goi.” Through her small, dark and slightly scratchy vocals, Luu Hong makes luscious love to Pham Duy’s lustful lyrics. In the song, Pham Duy describes his lover as an angel with a broken wing who came and begged him for some love. Just imagine fucking an angel and making, “Nang me mang, nang dam dui, nang choi voi, thoat len loi an can.” If screwing an angel is a sin, send me straight to hell for it.

Many have castigated Pham Duy for being too filthy for his age, but I am right behind him. I don’t see any Vietnamese songwriter pushes the boundary the way he does. In “Nguoi Tinh Trong Canh Tay,” he uses his own “vulgar” voice to express all the passionate details of holding a lover in his arms. All I can say is that Pham Duy is like Hugh Hefner in Vietnamese music. Keep the spirit alive, pops!

Founded Visualgui.com while searching for Thanh Lam, Tri Minh—the son of Thuan Yen and the imaginative arranger behind Thanh Lam’s Tu Su—introduces me to some of his experimental work.

After listening to his arrangements, I must say that this guy has an ear for electronic music, and he knows how to weave the western sound into Vietnamese traditional styles. His remixes of “Chuon Chuon Ot,” “Tan Co Dao Duyen Fucked Up,” and “Ai Oi” are so damn fresh and exotic. From the vocal distortion to the organic-sounding effects to the space-trance vibe, Tri Minh’s artistic vision is ahead of the Vietnamese music scene.

Stood out most for me, however, is the hypnotic electronic bass line in his “Free Jazz” fusion. I asked him, “Why don’t you play improvising jazz?” He replied, “I used to play jazz but I think to some extend, Jazz is quite limited so I shift to electronic music where I found it is quite interesting and give me endless possibilities, and also, making a band in Vietnam is quite difficult.” Too bad that he passed on jazz. With his talent, he could pick up where Miles Davis left off and give Vietnamese music something to look into. Still, I am having my eyes set for his album coming this March.

You could experience the tunes I listed in my Dope Jam station.

I was requested to give my feedback on Ky Tran’s music back before Christmas break, but didn’t get a chance to get to it until now. My bad.

As stated on his site, Ky Tran is an amateur songwriter, and it shows through his work. In “Sexy Ladies,” a mid-tempo r&b pop, he wastes no time getting straight to the point: “Anh dang lang thang trong dem tim ve em / Da biet truoc em mong anh den [noi] (can’t make out the word, gotta pronounce the word clearly, bro) / Va lam tinh that nong nang voi em.” All he needs to do is sampling in 2pac’s “… screaming like you’re dying every time I am fucking you” and we have a real booty-breaking tune. Instead, his emphasis on “cung nhau ta di vao tinh ai…” gives me goose bumps. Don’t mind his slight raspy vocals, but the over float of honey is too much to handle.

I am not big on saccharine, trendy pop, but “Tinh Anh Chi Co Em” sure is catchy. If the tune is in Ung Hoang Phuc’s hand, I am sure he could get all the teenage chicks to sing along. Still, I have to give props to any Vietnamese youngster who writes and produces his own song. But you, my comrade, need to dig deeper into the dark corner where other Vietnamese musicians have not been to before. Push the limit. Be provocative, be controversial, and be heard. Make yourself stand out by being yourself.

When Thai Hien sings about being dead, the ethereal beauty of her voice combined with the eeriness of Duy Cuong’s imaginative scores will send bone-crushing chills to your spine. Like an image of moth-eaten body in “Dung Bo Em Mot Minh” (“…cung mot lu con trung ria ruc than hinh”) or an angelic spirit searching for her lover in “Yeu Tinh Tinh Nu,” Mau Thoi Gian is an album that featured some of Pham Duy’s mad wicked necrophilic ballads.

Elton John’s “Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word” is a fine tune, but I find it a bit soft and saccharine, especially when the gay man himself sings it. The song has been widely covered, even within the Vietnamese community, but no one brings it up a notch the way Nguyen Khang does. His English is imperfect, but his flow is so unique that he has given me a different view about the song. When he kicks off the first verse, the roughness in his voice changes the song’s entire perspective. It is no longer a man crooning to a woman or, in John’s situation, a man to man, but a thug pouring his heart out to his love: “What have I got to do to make you love me / What have I got to do to make you care / What do I do when lightning strikes me / And I wake to find that you’re not there.” So when a thug apologizes, sorry has to be the hardest word. He was able to convey that vibe, but the other two guys who featured on the track fucking sabotaged it. Nguyen Khuong’s bitch-ass vocals works against the toughness Khang built, and Tien Dung’s weak-ass voice plus the computer manipulation ruined the song.

Damn Khang, you have to re-record this tune by yourself. You owe me this track, man!

It’s like club opera up in Cardin Nguyen’s new Se Mai Mai. He sure knows how to keep your ass bouncing while telling you his prosaic love stories from one episode to the next like Korean TV series.

Despite his elementary lyrics and rangeless vocals, Cardin makes me feel like I am a heartless bastard. He seems to weep on every track—the cover of Steve B.’s “Waiting for Your Love” in particular—begging for his lover to come back. As if we couldn’t tell through his male-less singing, he recruits his boys—Chosen One and Phong Le—to drop nursery rap verses on “Ngay Thang Troi Qua” to get his point across. The joint comes off like three hopeless fools who just got dogged by the same trick. Through his breathy delivery, Chosen confesses, “Then you [were] getting jealous because they said ‘I get around’ / but honestly baby I was working on my sounds.” The real reason she left his ass because his sound is wack, and let’s not getting into Phong Le’s laughable verse in Vietnamese.

Why being so unsympathetic on the hommies who try to make the ladies happy? Looking upon the positive side, at least Cardin pens his own shit, and he writes in Vietnamese too. I give him props for making a step further than Trish who still writes kiddie English pop tunes for Vietnamese boys and girls, but he’s 26 now (according to HisSpace), not 16. So step up your game, and be the ladies man, not the ladies bitch.

To practice her Vietnamese, a reader translated my review of Ngoc Ha’s Nuoc Mat Mua Thu. It’s such a great idea that I asked her permission to share it. What intrigues me is that she doesn’t translate word for word, and sometimes expanded further details with her own understand of what I wanted to say. I am impressed.

Trong dĩa nhạc riêng thứ tư, Nước Mắt Mùa Thu, do trung tâm Asia phát hành, Ngọc Hạ đã làm mới lại những ca khúc đã từ lâu được khán thính giả yêu thích với giọng hát điêu luyện và phong cách trẻ trung. Lắng nghe từng ca khúc Ngọc Hạ thể hiện, tôi tự hỏi từ cái vóc dáng nhỏ bé kia sao lại có thể là nơi phát ra cái giọng hát mạnh mẽ ấy!

Với nhạc chủ đề “Nước Mắt Mùa Thu” của Phạm Duy, một lần nữa Ngọc Hạ khẳng định chổ đứng của một trong những giọng ca nữ hàng đầu hiện nay. Sự nồng nàn pha lẫn chút buồn trong giọng ca cùng với cách ngân, Ngọc Hạ như gửi gấm tâm hồn mình vào trong ca khúc. Nếu được nghe bên cạnh giọng ca của nữ danh ca Lệ Thu thì thính giả khó tánh nhất cũng khó có thể so sánh. Hãy lắng nghe Ngọc Hạ thở dài “Trời ơi” để cảm nhận được nổi buồn cho thân phận của một kẻ cô đơn, lẻ loi trong cái lạnh lẽo quạnh hiu của một đêm mưa cuối thu.

Bên cạnh giọng ca, phần lựa chọn ca khúc cũng đóng góp vào sự thành công của dĩa nhạc lần này. Ngọc Hạ đã chinh phục thính giả qua nhiều thể loại nhạc khác nhau: lúc ngân vang tựa tiếng chim hót trong âm điệu quê hương qua nhạc phẩm “Hồ Trên Núi” của Phó Đúc Phương, lúc sôi động trong vũ điệu paso của Khánh Băng “Ngày Về Quê Cũ” cũng như lúc hoàng tráng trong âm hưởng bán cổ điển của Phạm Duy “Kiếp Nào Có Yêu Nhau.”

Ngoài cái chưa trọn vẹn của Văn Phụng “Giã Từ Đêm Mưa” mà phần lớn do phần hòa âm với vũ điệu cha-cha kém phần lôi cuốn, sự phối hợp giữa Ngọc Hạ và trung tâm Asia lần này có thể cho là chặt chẻ và thành công. Còn điều gì mong đợi từ Ngọc Hạ? Nghe lại một lần nữa Ngọc Hạ Nước Mắt Mùa Thu và Đức Tuấn Ngậm Ngùi… Chiếc Lá Thu Phai và hãy thử hình dung một dĩa nhạc kết hợp của hai giọng ca qua dòng nhạc Phạm Duy.

In my brief commentary on Le Quyen’s Giac Mo Co That, I wrote, “The young Le Quyen has a captivating timbre —powerful and perspicuous—with no breathe or pitch issues. While her technical skill is promising, her music selection is disappointing.” I doubt that she read my criticism, but still give myself the credit for helping her stepping up her game. On Mat Biec, her new release with Tung Duong and Tuan Hiep, the dark, gruff sensuousness in her voice is a wonderful complement to the nocturnal mood in Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Xom Dem,” Nguyen Van Thuong’s “Dem Dong,” and Tuan Khanh’s “Chiec La Cuoi Cung.” Even though she still needs to work on her delivery, the soul is there.

Speaking of soul, Tung Duong is the soulster, and he’s always switching up his style. Although it doesn’t always work, he has not been shied away from experiencing with his voice. To give Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Mua Thu Cho Em” a soft and gentle vibe, he holds back his vocals, which ends up sounding like he tries too hard to be effortless. As a result, his voice works against his flow, and the heavy breathing makes him sound huskier than calm. Fortunately, he brings back the ferocity and intensity on Doan Chuan and Tu Linh’s “Gui Gio Cho May Ngan Bay” and “La Do Muon Chieu.”

As for Tuan Hiep, he just got a free ride. With such a mundane voice, he has no business being on the album. Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi” should have been a duet between Le Quyen and Tung Duong, not Tuan Hiep. Another disappointment of Mat Biec is the musical arrangement. Except for the little jazziness in “Xom Dem,” the rest are pretty colorless and liveliless.