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.

Followed Rakim footsteps, Nasir mastered his techniques: flow, rhyme and delivery. Picked up where Ra left off, Nas took the mic off the stage and out on the streets. His debut Illmatic is filled with streetwise literary. On “N.Y. State of Mind,” Nas gives a chill vibe when he spits, “I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death.” His descriptive lyric is startling on “One Love,” especially with these lines, “Then I rose, wiping the blunts ash from my clothes / then froze, only to blow the herb smoke through my nose.” And the track that leaves me breathless is “Life’s a Bitch.” AZ, Nas’s tightest collaborator, kicks off the first verse like he has been waiting forever to be heard and it is his time to blow off. The hungriness in his flow made it seems like he could rhyme on forever. Then Nas brings it back with his cool and smooth delivery on the second verse. Yet, what leaves me speechless is the ending when Olu Dara, Nas’s pops, blows that intoxicating sound from his muted trumpet over the hip-hop beat. With nine solid tracks back to back, Illmatic is a hip-hop classic.

When I get sick of hip-hop’s gang banging, blunt puffing, gender dissing (mostly women and gays), jews blinging and all the ghetto fabulousnesses, I kick back to Rakim’s Book of Life—the retrospective side of The 18th Letter/The Book of Life‘s double album—for some nerve-calming, brain-messaging, and just pure rejuvenating hip-hop experiences. From “I Know You Got Soul,” “Follow the Leader,” “Microphone Fiend,” “My Melody,” “Move the Crowd” to “Let the Rhythm Hit Em,” the soul-controller Ra and cut-master Eric B. bring out the good old time without a word of profanity. With a raucous voice, perfectionist flow and waxed-poetic rhymes, Ra rips through “Lyrics of Fury” like John Coltrane erupted his sheets-of-sound lyricisms. Every time I bang, “Know the Ledge,” the chill image of Bishop played by 2pac in Juice, a film that revealed Pac’s acting talent, strikes my memory chord. I used to watch the movie almost everyday after school for about a month. I was able to recite very line Pac said in the film, and one particular narration stuck in my brain till this day, “I am crazy, and you know what else? I don’t give a fuck.” I could still visualize the cold, heartless look on his face. Besides the Juice‘s theme song, Ra’s “Casualty of War” and “The Punisher” were no less hardcore and crucial. Ra had laid down the foundation for hip-hop and I hope to see him takes her back to her positive vibe.