Black and White, Asian and Latino, boys and girls, everybody loved Tupac Shakur. Even FOB hommies (including me) loved Pac, even though we had no clue what the hell he was rapping about. We just digged his thug persona and the gangster beats. Every Vietnamese guy that I knew owned a copy of All Eyes on Me, and they all played the same tunes: “2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted,” “How Do You Want It,” and of course “California Love (Remix).” For me, the thuggish, ruggish shit on the whole double album was “No More Pain.” The beat was crazy, and Pac’s flow was the illest. I can still rap along to every word whenever I played that track. He is sure a living legend now, but he already knew that in his rhymes, “When I die, I wanna be a livin’ legend, say my name affiliated with this motherfuckin’ game, with no more pain.” Of course, there are plenty of hot tracks on the CDs such as “Heartz of Men,” “Life Goes On,” “Only God Can Judge Me,” Picture Me Rollin’,” and the title track, but Pac made a classic diss after the album released when he “Hit Em Up.” (YouTube rocks!)

Xuan Hieu’s Tinh Nghe Si makes a fabulous hot tube album. Something smooth for your ass. His instrumental (saxophone) interpretation of Vietnamese ballads, including “Mong Duoi Hoa,” “Gio Gio Cho May Ngan Bay,” “Xom Dem,” and “Thu Quyen Ru,” is in the same camp of Kenny G’s jazz playing: wimped-out, soul-deadening, mechanical, and vulgar. The passiveness in Xuan Hieu’s sax sound, particularly in “Ta Ao Xanh” and “Chuyen Ben,” puts people straight to the bed, but not with each other. What makes the album so lame is the lack of improvisation and personal expression. You could sing along with the sax lines like karaoke if you know the lyrics. Yet, why would you want to follow an arrangement with a lethargic rhythm section?

Thuc dem moi biet dem dai
That tinh moi biet tinh dai hon dem
Mot doi sao mai chang quen
Vi tinh guc nga cho duyen lo lang

Thanks Joseph for sending me this suicidal shit! If your heart is broken, do not pick up Tam Doan’s Guc Nga Vi Yeu. You may have to kill your soul, if not yourself. Lucky for me, it is not a Truong Vu’s album. If he sings the title track, I would have started digging my own grave while listening to it. Tam Doan doesn’t sound too dramatic. In other words, she lacks the emotion and the pain to croon heart-shattering songs. I don’t blame her. In fact, I am happy for her because that means her marriage with Tien Dung is doing great. Not only her voice is soulless, but the productions from Thuy Nga’s main man, Tung Chau, are also pretty bland. The duet with Manh Quynh in “Go Cua” is the least tragic vong co (opera) I have ever heard. No chemistry and no sentimental exchange whatsoever between the two. She sings vong co like reading a poem complemented by the mournful accompaniment. After all, her album may sound boring, but her life off the mic is good. It’s rare to find a singer who is willing to give up her career for her love. It’s time for Tam Doan to switch to dance pop. It would fit her mood better for now or maybe until the relationship turns sour. Gotta go with the feelings, baby!

Like its name suggested, VariAsian is a-cappella group consisted of various Asian (Vietnamese, Filipino, and Korean) Americans. From a quick glance at their brief bios, most of the members had sung in choir in their school years; therefore, they have their chops down from gospel to R. & B. to soul. What sets them apart, however, is the Asian synergy they bring to the music, and their debut shows some potentials. Their version of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” is groovy without the disco arrangement backing them up. The beatbox and vocal harmony do the job well. On the slower piece, Lisa Lisa’s “All Cried Out,” their strong voices, which drawn mostly from gospel, give the popular tune a fresh vibe. The most disappointed tune is the cover of Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly.” That elementary rap has to go. It ruins the ladies’ singings. They need to bring Wyclef Jean on board if they wanted a hip-hop verse. Too bad, “Nguoi Oi & Yeu Nhau” the only Vietnamese tune featured on the entire album. While the harmony is great, the lead singer sounds almost flat on the first piece. I am still rooting for my 5 Dong babes when it comes to Vietnamese a cappella. While their debut is not so bad (except for too many popular tunes being covered), I am not sure what they have in store for the next release. One thing we can reassure, they do not sing with broken English.

Thanks Joseph!

I apologize for making some of you weeping yesterday with the heart-wrecking ballads. To make up for it, I have uploaded a really cool piece from Clarence “Frogman” Henry called “Ain’t Got No Home.” I just dig the way he plays with his vocals to imitate the girl and the frog. I came across the track on the incredible Big Ol’ Box of New Orleans. If you could get your hand on the box sets, get it. You’ll be experiencing the Mardi Gras’ flavors—including jazz, blues, rock-n-roll, funk, R&B, gospel, and zydeco—right at your own crib.

There’s also a few songs you can check out at NPR.

In 1993, Don Ho and Lam Thuy Van made a record together when they were both on top of their game. Du Nang Co Mong Manh was the album I played the most between 93-94. Although most of the recordings are outdated now because of the translated tunes, two still remain timeless. The title track, which is written by Le Minh Bang, is one. Don Ho’s languorous flow deep inside the rumba arrangement makes Thai Chau’s and Nguyen Khang’s later rendition sound stiff and stilted. The light touch and effortlessness in his delivery—especially when he sings low, almost in a whispering voice—is still unmatchable. Duc Huy’s “Nhu Da Dau Yeu” is one of the most recorded ballads among the young singers, yet Don Ho’s version still stands out the most for me. What makes his singing so seductive and persuasive is the soulfulness he brings to it. He comes off like a real man when phrases, “Anh den voi em voi tat ca tam hon,” and holds on the last word of “Em den voi anh voi tat ca trai tim…” with love and passion. His technical skills were flawless from the breath control to crescendo to the way he leaves the notes floating in the air. On top of all that, he always sings his heart out like a man with soul and sensibility.

In my review of Ngay Do Co Em, I pointed out the relationship between Duong Trieu Vu and Dam Vinh Hung, and now Mr. Dam uses Brokeback Mountain to express his homo love in Giai Thoat, his latest release. Whether the spoof is his marketing campaign or personal statement, I have no interest in Dr. Dam’s sex identity. I am sure he doesn’t want to define himself either. Musically, he is getting more and more pathetic, and can’t come up with anything new. Even on the bluesy “Anh Don Em Ve,” he applies the same style with his earlier rendition of “Noi Long.” For Chris’ sake, switch up the flow or something, but I guess he and his fans are comfortable with the melodrama crap he puts out. So let’s not give the Brokeback bitch any more grief.

His fingers are too short to stride, but Jamie Cullum has a bit of the keyboard chops, and if he would shut the fuck up and just bang out piano chords, I might consider him a serious musician. Until then, he still is a juvenile clown trying to get his swag on. Sure, he could play some quick, slick, and ear-candy solos, but could he extend beyond those? None of his song on Twentysomething leaves room for instrumental improvisation, and his singings take up most of the time. As for his vocals, dude sings (on “These Are the Days” and “All At Sea” for examples) like a spineless little bitch who does nothing but whine, moan, and groan in a hoarse British voice. When listening to his cover of Cole Porter’s “I Get a Kick Out of You,” I sure want to stomp my foot up his ass, and smack the shit out of him for derogating Jimi Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary.” But he is so spontaneous and energetic that ditsy chicks are willing to drop their panties for him. That’s all that really matters.

Thanks to Inky and his jazz-rock vision, I am being drawn back to Electric Ladyland, a Jimi Hendrix Experience. I was exposed to Hendrix as far back as my junior high school years from Mr. Hilt who was my favorite art teacher. Twice a week, I was looking forward to his class so I could just paint and enjoy Hendrix. I didn’t know what the heck I was listening to, but at least the music that came out of his stereo system was not as excessively loud (even though he played at a high volume for a classroom) as other rock shit I couldn’t stand. With Hendrix, I could hear what he was strumming without going deaf, and his virtuoso improvisations were rich and colorful, not just a bunch of white noises screeching up my eardrums.

After hearing his melodic invention on “Voodoo Chile,” I could figure out where Miles Davis got his inspiration for his fusion. In the album liner notes, Derek Taylor quoted what Davis had to say about Hendrix: “He had a natural ear for hearing music… it was great. He influenced me and I influenced him and that’s the way great music is always made. Everybody’s showing somebody something and then moving on from there… Jimi Hendrix came from the blues, like me. We understood each other right away… he was a great blues guitarist.” In the jazz-inflected “Rainy Day, Dream Away,” Hendrix’s riff works along with Freddie Smith’s horn and Mike Finnigan’s organ to create a thought-provoking interaction.

While the psychedelic intro, “…And The Gods Made Love,” gives us a hint of what we are about to enter, the powerful-closer “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” lets us know that the experience will live on after the music stops, or the heartbeat stops—”If I don’t meet you no more in this world, then I’ll meet you in the next one, and don’t be late, don’t be late.” Hendrix crooned. Almost forty years later, the album still rocks!

Anh Tuyet’s Di Tim is the latest attempt to jazz up old-school Vietnamese ballads. To be more accurate, it is an effort from the moldy figs (Anh Tuyet, Nguyen Anh 9, and Bao Chan) trying to get their swing on. Anh Tuyet sure has a fine and mellow voice despite of her age, but she doesn’t have the right chops for jazz. A jazz singer can’t just sing tunes straight the way they were written. The more notes being sung, the less the jazz.

What makes jazz so lively and sexy is that she doesn’t play by rules, but that is not the case here with Anh Tuyet and the musicians (including Ly Duoc on bass, Trong Hieu on piano, and Xuan Hieu on saxophone) who have no rhythmic sensibility for jazz. They don’t have the heart to strip down the standards to their basic structures and then build them back up with their own invention. They are just simply there to back up the vocalist. In the pseudo swing, Quoc Truong’s “Nhung Phut Giay Qua,” not only the rhythm section is unswingable, the rock guitar added an excruciating noise to Anh Tuyet’s pallid flow. The title track feels the same way, but less distracting because no rock riff is involved.

The biggest disappointment of the entire album is that Anh Tuyet hardly pushes her delivery, manipulates her vocals range, or improvises her singing. The only time she breaks free from the written notes is near the end of Tran Dung’s “Loi Chim” where she mimics the bird’s voice. Now if she applies more scat singing and improvising on the blues, like Nguyen Anh 9’s “Buon Oi! Chao Mi,” “Mua Thu Canh Nau,” Trinh Cong Son’s “Vet Lan Tram” and “Hay Khoc Di Em,” she would have created a revelation. In jazz, it is not how well a standard being sung, but how to transform it into an individual statement with new melodic lines while still capable of articulating the lyrics.