In retrospect, Don Ho (Vietnamese not Hawaiian) made some interesting changes in his singing career. The good part was that he moves closer to the root. When he first stepped on the scene in early 90s, he chose mostly French and English standards. As he created a name for himself, he glided into translated melodies, and then slowly began to cover Vietnamese ballads as he gained more confidence. Don Ho captured many hearts, including mine, with romantic tunes such as Truc Ho’s “Trai Tim Mua Dong,” Duc Huy’s “Nhu Da Dau Yeu” and Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Tinh Khuc Buon.” At the high point of his career, he came out with Vuc Sau Hanh Phuc, an album that showed a new and exciting path for Don Ho and his fans.

In addition to ten original tunes from nine Vietnamese musicians around the world, Don Ho also works with a number of talented musicians to get the sound he wants. On the album starter, Nguyen Dinh Loi’s “Nguoi Mai Chua Ve,” the flourishing and soothing arrangement from Peter Tran and the composer himself provides a musical space for Don Ho to pour his smoky baritone into the notes with intensity and intricacy. On Van Duc Nguyen’s “Nhip Buoc Hoang Vu,” producer Dong Son cleverly weaves Chi Tam’s traditional sound from the single-stringed instrument (dan bau) into his organic vibes. The result is an ambient arrangement that is perfect for Don Ho’s soulful delivery. With Sy Dan’s lust, mysterious orchestration backing him up, Don Ho nails Vo Thien Hoang’s “Ngoai Cua Thien Duong” right on the sentimental spot. In contrast, Sy Dan’s dark, gothic theme doesn’t work too well on Trang Thanh Truc’s “Goi Nguoi Xa Voi.” Fortunately, the bonus track, which is a slow version, is illustrious. Although Tung Chau’s production is not as rich and cinematic, it works better with this particular piece, and Albert Von Seggern’s sweet sax on the break heightens the listening experience. Tung Chau has also done a marvelous orchestration on the title track allowing Don Ho to express the lyrics to their fullest. On the Latin-infused fusion, Mai Nguyen’s “Tren Ngan Le Sau” and Bao Tram’s “Tieng Duong Cam Cua Nha,” Don Ho’s raspy quality adds an intoxicating flavor to the ballads.

Vuc Sau Hanh Phuc is a Stella effort that proves Don Ho’s full potential as well as his versatile artistry. The album also raised the bar so high that he has been struggling to top it for years. Even though his latest work, Con Nghe Tieng Goi, shows tremendous technical improvement in his vocals, the materials he covered could not surpassed the cutting-edge concept he has done on this album.

James P. Johnson’s Harlem Stride Piano. Johnson was the father of stride piano, a style that requires the player to do it all (beat, melody and bass), and it is very hard to accomplish. Even Jazzy admits that is it impossible to play with her small hands. My jazz history professor said that shaking Johnson’s hand was like holding a bunch of bananas. One of Johnson’s stride masterpieces is “Carolina Shout.” It’s like a test for anyone who wants to play stride piano. Even Duke Ellington had to work hard to mater it. In addition to his contribution as jazz pianist, Johnson could also play classical music. His Victory Stride is a breathtaking example.

Fats Waller’s The Joint is Jumpin’. Waller was Johnson’s student and also a brilliant stride pianist. His “Numb Fumblin'” is filled with a variety of rich and imaginative tones. His rendition of “Carolina Shout” is no less virtuosic than his teacher. Waller even succeeded with popular tunes like “Honeysuckle Rose” and “Ain’t Misbehaving.”

Count Basie’s The Complete Decca Recordings. Basie started out as stride pianist then developed into his own blues-inflected style. He was the master of understatement, and was famous for playing the spare keys because he had a solid rhythm section behind him. His version of “Honeysuckle Rose” is different from Waller because of the few tasty notes Basie tagged his name on it.

Theolonious Monk’s Criss Cross. My man Monk also came out of the Harlem stride tradition, but his style was full of angularity and outside standard sound of bebop. His stylistic tick was playing downward, cascading scale, and he loved the flatted fifths. He usually played clotted alter chords and was heavy into the beat. His rendition of “Tea for Two” and “Crepuscule with Nellie” were interestingly and intentionally fractured. Like his personality, Monk’s use of space in music was way out there. And what I love about Monk’s playing is the dissonant, disruptive and unpredictable variations.

Although our beloved Ngoc Lan drew her last breath on this day five years ago, her name has yet to be forgotten. In my heart, she is still a scintillating star that will never diminished; therefore, I dedicated a theme called Star for iLoveNgocLan.com to remember one of the most magnificent voices in Vietnamese music. And I am not alone.

Besides her fans world wide, the late songwriter Vo Thuong also expressed his love toward the Star. Three years ago, he had written a tune called “Tieng Hat Ngoc Lan” and handed it to Jazzy Da Lam—a young jazz musician who I have a great respect for on both professional and personal level—with a wish that she could arrange and perform the piece for him. Before Jazzy could fulfill his request, Vo Thuong passed away due to severe illness.

After Vo Thuong united with Ngoc Lan, Jazzy went on and recorded the song based on the feelings he had shared with her about Ngoc Lan. With the emotion she has for the songwriter combined with Vo Thuong’s sentiment for Ngoc Lan, Jazzy delivers a breathtaking performance with her soul-soothing voice. And the virtuosity of her keyboarding added an exquisite texture to the work. Although Vo Thuong didn’t get to hear the final product, he is up above telling Ngoc Lan how proud he is with Jazzy’s accomplishment.

Thanks Jazzy for sharing something very special with all of Ngoc Lan’s fans. Thanks Vo Thuong for the beautiful “Tieng Hat Ngoc Lan.” R.I.P. Ngoc Lan and Vo Thuong.

Added: A brief compliment on Ngoc Lan from Nguyen Cao Ky Duyen and Nguyen Ngoc Ngan on Paris By Night 60.

Duong Trieu Vu has a milky face that goes so well with his baby voice. No matter how hard he tries to roughened up his flow, his fresh skin—similar to someone’s face I often describe as a piece of sliced sushi—doesn’t allow the voice to be tough. Even when he gives a sentimental performance of Han Le Nhan’s “Vien Khuc Viet Nam” on Paris By Night 77: 30 Nam Vien Xu, he’s as soft as grapes.

Although he makes regular appearances on Thuy Nga’s stage for a while, his debut, Ngay Do Co Em, only released last month. I am not so sure why his album takes a year and a half to complete. When Jazzy said her project, Moon & You, took almost two years to finish, I could see the reasons behind it. But DTV didn’t even pen a single composition, and most the tunes he covered are as old as he is. I am sure other singers could bang out an album like his in a week. Even the music is like a machine mass production from Thuy Nga, in which they have killed the sax sound trying to boast up syrupy tunes like Khuc Lan’s “Bai Ca Tinh Nho” (translated song), Nhat Dang Huy’s “Doi Em Trong Mo” and Tu Nhi’s “Doan Buon Cho Toi.”

The album is packed with saccharine, banal pieces like Viet Thi’s “Hanh Phuc Cuoi” (another translated track), Luong Bang Vinh’s “Duong Hoang Vang” and Quoc An’s “Tinh Nhu Giac Mo,” but I am not ashamed to admit that I dig the medley “Hoi Nguoi Tinh,” a romantic duet with Dam Vinh Hung. I didn’t fall for the music or the performance, but the boys have finally stepped out of the closet, crooning Christophe’s “Oh Mon Amour” together like they do mean every word they sing. Their love story is even more convincing then the two cowboys in Brokeback Mountain. I almost broke into tears when DTV informs his lover boy, “Oh my sweet love, please hear me now / Life waits for you to live somehow / Don’t be afraid, somehow you must know / I am here to stay, I’ll never go / I’ll give to you all of my heart, all of my love, all my life.” Don’t worry baby, DVH won’t go anywhere. He could be in and out of the US any time he wants to. He got so much love here from the fans. A word of advice to DVH: messing with a young boy in America is considered a pedophile. So be careful!

I am still picking up my man Tuan Ngoc’s old albums whenever I get a chance. The most recent one is Nho Em Giu Lay Tinh Ta (released in 2000 by Diem Xua productions), in which he once again demonstrates his mastery of approaching ballads. And no, Tuan Ngoc doesn’t need any further introduction so let’s cut straight to the recordings.

With a refined, relaxed technique, he gives Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Mat Biec” and “Tu Giong Hat Em” a soul-calming rendition, especially on “Mat Biec” where his voice melts the lyrics around Jack Freeman’s soothing sax. His signature style of hovering-over-the-next-bar is also displayed on the former piece. On “Ta On Doi,” his flow becomes intricate to match Pham Duy’s complex lyricism. I love the way he phrases, “Dam eo seo nhan the / Chua phai long say me.” The words “eo seo” sound so sensuous, yet I have no clue what they mean. And of course, Duy Cuong’s orchestration is as luscious as always on the production.

On Tung Giang’s “Toi Voi Troi Bo Vo,” Tuan Ngoc’s quiet beauty marks the pinnacle of his vocal artistry. He emphasizes the words “lanh lung” (noticeably the cracked timbre on “lanh”) so natural that we could feel the chilliness as well as the coziness in his expression. Beneath the superb technique is a human spirit that moves us when he delivers, “Ai cho toi mot ngay yen vui / Cho toi quen cuoc doi bao noi.” The eerie, lust arrangement produced by Vu Tuan Duc added a mysterious image to the gloomy, lonesome night.

The only performance that is somewhat disappointing is Anh Bang’s “Khuc Thuy Du” (poem by Du Tu Le). His breathing was labored. Yes, I do have high expectations for Tuan Ngoc—nothing less than perfect—but he meets them most of the time. That’s why I got love for him. Even though he cheated on me once, he’s still my main man when it comes to Vietnamese music. I sound mad gay, don’t I?

Prince Charming Quang Dung invited ten top pop princesses—including Thanh Lam, Hong Nhung, Ho Ngoc Ha, My Tam and, of course, his Barbie Thanh Thao—to join him on his latest release Em. Although he takes on each one at a time, the album feels like a groupie love with Barbie on “Loi Cuoi Cho Em,” Phuong Thanh on “Hoa Hoc Tro,” Hong Ngoc on “Xin Dung Noi Yeu Toi” and Le Quyen on “Them Mot Lan Yeu Thuong.” Even Hong Nhung is the victim of his romantic syndrome on “Binh Yen.”

Thanh Lam is the only one who is not caught up into that affectionate matrix. On “Nuoi Tiec,” she is more like a queen than a princess to him because she is in control with her authoritative performance. Their relationship on the song is best described as Mrs. Robinson and Benjamin Braddock in The Graduate. Thanh Lam sounds mature enough to be his mother. And to continue with The Graduate‘s analogy, Ho Ngoc Ha is like Elaine, Robinson’s daughter, to Quang Dung. Their collaboration is a luscious one. Her small, slightly scratchy vocals complemented his clear, handsome timbre in a marvelous way.

Weakest duet is “Con Yeu Em Mai” with Phuong Thuy. The up-tempo arrangement doesn’t work too well with their voices. Even though the album is only listenable, I have to give Quang Dung the credits for having all these gorgeous females worked with him. I am not too surprise, however, that he could pull it off because Quang Dung is a good-looking guy with a fine voice; and he dresses decent most of the time. Freaking pimp!

Tuan Ngoc and Cam Van’s Loi Ve is a straight jack-off. I am very disappointed with Tuan Ngoc since the album released under his production (Bich Thu Van). The back cover listed twelve tracks altogether: Five from Cam Van, four from Tuan Ngoc, which could also be found on other albums of his, and three labeled as song ca (duet). I assumed that the duet is from Tuan Ngoc and Cam Van, yet it turns out to be Cam Van and her hubby Khac Trieu, and his name didn’t even get listed. Not only I don’t dislike Khac Trieu, but I also feel bad for the man who hides behind his woman’s shadow like a ghost. Cam Van is the better half when it comes to music, but sneaking in on an album without even being acknowledged is just pathetic. He only makes more obvious that he isn’t anything without her. I am in no way trying to ruin their relationship, but he needs to stand on his own feet, and handles his business like a man. If I can’t design better than my wife, I’ll go filing nails or do something else.

While many singers pour out their hearts, souls and guts to articulate Trinh Cong Song’s lyricism, my Lady Lan didn’t have too. She approached his music as quiet as meditating. On “Dem That Ta La Thac Do,” her lithe delivery reinvigorated the standard. I could simply block out the arrangement and enjoy the purified acapella performance by itself. Even the sunlight was touched with the way she phrased “goi nang” on “Ha Trang.” Furthermore, Tham Lam’s feathery sound on the sax floated like clouds around Ngoc Lan’s ethereal vocals. With “Chieu Mot Minh Qua Pho,” her sense of simplicity created a gorgeous graphic of a lovely lady strolling down the lonely town. When Thanh Lam’s languorous sax took over the break, the sound added filmic details to the scene. (Can’t help it, I have been making too many motion pieces lately). Even on the mid-tempo like “Ben Doi Hiu Quanh” and “Biet Dau Nguon Coi,” her flows were still effortless and she never missed the beats. On “Xin Mat Troi Hay Ngu Yen” and “Roi Nhu Da Ngay Ngo,” she moved toward the upper register without breaking a sweat. Again her coolness and gracefulness refreshed “Nhu Canh Vat Bay” and “Diem Xua.” Then she gave “Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong” a soul-soothing rendition. Donny, stop worshiping the ground she spitted on. I know but I can’t help it, honey! At least I am doing it out of pure love, unlike some record company who threw together an album, Ngoc Lan va Dong Nhac Trinh Cong Son: Nghe Tieng Muon Trung, to make some money.

Jay-Z is undoubtedly one of the slickest hustlers in the game. On his debut Reasonable Doubt, Jay spits rhymes like spending G’s. On the opener, “Can’t Knock the Hustle,” Jay flows like hustling is the only thing for a black man: “All us blacks got is sport and entertainment, until we even / Thievin’, as long as I’m breathin’ / Can’t knock the way a nigga eatin’—fuck you even.” In addition to his hustling tales—“Politics as Usual,” “Dead President 2,” “Can I Live”—Jay also reveals his battling potentials on “22 Two’s.” Throughout his career, Jay dropped anyone, including Mop Deep, 50 Cent and Nas, who had beef with him. Even Cam’ron wanted a piece of the action not too long ago, but Jay didn’t even bother to response. Besides the fact that Cam’s diss was weak, Jay knows damn well that he’s too good, and Cam simply can’t touch the hustler. Reasonable Doubt proves that Jay is the hip-hop’s kingpin who could “produce G’s like sperm.”

Notorious B.I.G. to hip-hop is like Ella Fitzgerald to jazz. What do I mean by that? They both were versatile artists. While Ella could improvise with scatting, Biggie could freestyle on the spot with spelling (“Cause G-E-D, wasn’t B-I-G / I got P-A-I-D, that’s why my mom hates me”). In addition, they both had an incredible rhythmic sense, which allowed them to ride up-tempo beats as effortless as breathing. Besides his extraordinary technical skill, Biggie was also a gifted lyricist, and his debut Ready to Die showcases both. On the savory “Juicy,” Biggie pushes simple but astonishing rhymes over the flavorful beat produced by Jean “Poke” Oliver; and the single landed Biggie on the forth front of mainstream hip-hop. In jazz, the call-and-response effects usually existed when two voices (vocals or instruments) interact with one another. On “Give Me the Loot,” Biggie created an exhilarating dialect of a sticking-up scene by alternating his flows and vocals. When it comes to the ladies, Biggie wasn’t bashful either. On “Me and My Bitch,” he confesses in the first two lines, “When I met you I admit my first thoughts was to trick / You look so good, huh, I suck on your daddy’s dick.” The song, however, takes a shocking turn at the end. Ready to Die opens with a baby being born and closes out with “Suicidal Thoughts.” Biggie starts off with, “When I die, fuck it I wanna go to hell / Cause I’m a piece of shit, it ain’t hard to fuckin’ tell,” then he pulls the trigger on himself at the end of the verse. The album just leaves listeners hanging in the cold while the image lingers on even after the CD stops reading.