Damn Donny, what the heck is wrong with you? Falling for My Linh’s De Tinh Yeu Hat romance shit, pull yourself together man. You must be out of your mind. That Huy Tuan’s “Nhung Giac Mo Dai” gives me goose bumps, and you treat her like she’s your best lover. Looking at the way you mesmerize My Linh’s breathy, sugary vocals makes me want to puke. Do you really believe her when she sings, “Co khi nao tinh yeu den nhu trong giac mo / Duoc yeu duoc song, chang con van vuong / Nong nang nhung giac mo dai co nhau?” Man, wake your ass up. It’s just a dream. Love is never that beautiful. It’s all fluff. Remember what you told me? That’s right, relationship is worse than a bitch, and she bites harder too. She doesn’t just go for your leg, but straight for your heart.

That opening track “De Mai Duoc Gan Anh” by Anh Quan and Duong Thu is so icky. I can’t stand the way My Linh glides into the crescendo at the last chorus. How could you find the way she almost scats to be breathtaking? Your taste has gone, brother. I suggest you stick to jazz and stay away from Vietnamese ballads. Do I need to slap the taste out of you (like what you wanted to do to Duy Manh) in order to get you back on track? The up-tempo groove on Huy Tuan’s “Valentin” is pathetic. She can’t even pronounce the English word correctly, and you let her passed. What’s happening to your meticulous criticism?

Even on the title track, the muted trumpet hurts my ears and you think the sound is dope. I think you’re really on that dope again. But I have to agree with you on Duong Thu’s “Thuc Giac.” My Linh’s performance is splendid even though her flow in the beginning is a reminiscent of the young Ngoc Khue. Other than that track, the whole album feels like what lovers would share with each other on Valentine’s Day. Yuck!

Many singers, especially Vietnamese, better off to be enjoyed on CD than on stage, Ho Ngoc Ha is not one of them. She’s an exceptional live performer. I overlooked her talent because I was expecting another incompetent model-turned-singer. Until recently I came across some of her live performances video, I realize what I have been missing. Although her voice has yet to convince me, her stage charisma leaves my jaw hanging. On the pop/hip-hop of Phuong Quynh’s “Anh Da Ra Di,” she impresses with her choice of attires (elegant and sexy without being slutty), slick moves, and that smile is a killer. Although her rap delivery is bearable, who really gives a damn to what she has to say when she looks that hot? With Duc Tri’s “Tung Ngay Dai,” her voluptuous grooves take my breath away. Love the way she works her gorgeous black hair, like Angelina Jolin is in the house. The album version of Huy Tuan’s “24 Gioi 7 Ngay” is nothing comparing to live one. It must be that stylish green dress and the delicious stage work, which benefited for her catwalk experience. Even though Tran Van Khanh’s “Noi Long” is sported by an intoxicating mid-tempo funk flavor, HNH focuses mostly on perfecting her flow, and the result is a soulful seduction. Her jazz’s maneuverability combined with her small, exotic voice floored me. I don’t understand what’s the deal with a huge red bow she wears on her chest, but the girl still has style. Now I can see why so many men want to bone her. She has both body and soul. As for me, a smile is all I would request from her.

Here he goes again. Duy Manh, the man who loves to bring pitiful pain, is back with Vol. 2, Loi Sam Hoi. After successfully captured the gamblers with his “Kiep Do Den,” Duy Manh is reaching out to the crack heads, dope fiends and vain poppers with “Loi Sam Hoi Cua Ke Hap Hoi,” a song that gives me an incredible chill in my spines every time I listen to it. The concoction of lust, eerie arrangement, Duy Manh’s drug-marinated vocals and his graphical lyrics brings back the body-hanging image of the young Vietnamese-Australian Van Nguyen. His puffy and breathy delivery combined with his emphatic phrasing creeps the hell out of me, especially after reading Nguyen’s last words. Is this a coincident or Duy Manh dedicated the title track to Mr. Nguyen?

When getting through his entire album, I want to smack the taste out of his mouth, but why hating on him? He just puts out what the people want to hear. As long as his albums sell like fresh shrimps, why not? He’s getting paid in full for being a dramatic clown, and he’s not alone in the game. We have Luu Chi Vy, Ung Hoang Phuc, Truong Dan Huy and a whole bunch of other cried babies robbing teenagers’ lunch money. I am sure young girls would be crying their eyes out when listening to Duy Manh begging for another chance on “Xin Em Cho Toi Mot Co Hoi.” He sounds so damn sweet and sexy when crooning, “Hanh phuc oi nhung ngay ta dam doi,” which truly translates as “It felt good when we fucked.” But hey, at least he’s honest enough to confess that he loves two girls at the same time on “Phai Chang Toi Yeu Hai Nguoi.” A man is as faithful as his options; even he is as lovely as Duy Manh.

Welcome to Duy Manh’s world: drug, gamble, money, love, confession and all real-life dramas. They say artists and musicians live on clouds, and Duy Manh is no exception. The clouds he lives on isn’t high up in the sky, but behind closed doors, and that’s where his music comes from. So what’s the topic on Vol.3? AIDS and HIV?

On Nhung Nu Mam Moi…, Le Thu, an accomplished singer with an ageless voice, takes on Trinh Cong Son’s standards. Unlike the limit-pusher Thanh Lam who flips Trinh’s world upside-down, Le Thu sticks to the original script like white on rice.

As much as I love Le Thu’s strident vocals, gorgeous vibrato and slightly raucous timbre on “Ru Em,” “Cuoi Cung Cho Mot Tinh Yeu,” “Bon Mua Thay La” and “Dem Thay Ta La Thac Do,” I am simply fed up with another Trinh’s songbook. Although Nhung Nu Mam Moi… is far beyond Dam Vinh Hung’s Phoi Pha and Phuong Thanh’s Thuong Mot Nguoi, I still feel a need for some sort of innovative breakthrough. Maybe Thanh Lam and Le Minh Son had set a new expectation when approaching Trinh’s work; therefore, the bar must be raised for the albums that come after theirs. But that’s just me, a demanding listener who always appreciate those musicians who are willing to take on the challenges. On the flip side, those “moldy figs” (jazz’s slang for old style) who dismissed Thanh Lam’s pathbreaking performances on Nay Em Co Nho and Ru Mai Ngan Nam will find Le Thu’s album to be highly enjoyable.

Nothing wrong with presenting the songs the way the composer intended them, especially with a voice like Le Thu. Her performances are flawless. In fact, they are too perfect. The life in Trinh’s lyrics is beautiful but not perfect. If his life were perfect, we wouldn’t have that many timeless songs. I am sure Le Thu’s life is beautiful as well—at least that’s how she sounded on the mic—but her perfectionism needs some accident to articulate Trinh’s lyrical beauties.

The rule is simple. If a new singer wants to cover popular tunes, he must take them to a new level. Or else, what is the point? Why should listeners waste their time, if not only their money, listen to him singing the same old songs? Viet Hoai doesn’t follow that rule, however. He doesn’t want to reinvent them even though the result is rewarding when he does. He just wants to sing from his heart. Fair enough.

Viet Hoai’s debut, Tam Su Nguoi Ca Si, kicks off with a reviving rendition of Doan Chuan and Tu Linh’s “Tinh Nghe Si.” His warm, well-built voice and his straightforward delivery work gracefully with the beautiful, blues-flavored production. The title track, Phu Quang’s “Tam Su Nguoi Ca Si,” is also refreshing thanks to the bossa-nova rhythm section and the exquisite muted trumpet. Yet, Quoc Truong’s “Hoang Hon” is where he’s at his best. The arrangement eases back to allow his clear, quiet voice dominates, but when he needs the strident accompaniment to make a statement, they are right behind him, especially the subtle violin sound. Escorted by a simple strumming acoustic guitar, he pours his soul into “Duong Doi” like he uses the lyrics to tell his own story.

His version of Huy Xuan’s “Thuyen va Bien” is an idiosyncratic one. Despite the gorgeous orchestration, which includes a sinuous sax solo, he sounds way off keys compare to Quang Ly and Thu Minh. The beauty of the song, however, is the weirdness quality in his interpretation, once we get it. Even though his vocals get breathy and his falsetto falls short on those long notes, he manages to pull off Tran Long An’s “Dem Thanh Pho Day Sao.” The album leans toward bland and dull side when he tries to work his ways into the up-tempo Luong Khai’s “Tinh Khuc Chieu Mua” and Tran Tien’s “Mua Xuan Goi.” He simply can’t ride the bouncy beats.

On her debut Moon and Wind, Huong Thanh, daughter of an accomplished Vietnamese opera (cai luong) singer Huu Phuoc, gives Vietnamese folk music a contemporary flavor. Thanks to her producer Nguyen Le who is brilliant at weaving traditional melodies with western instruments, the album is a multicultural splendor.

With clear enunciation, pitch-perfect vocals and pliable delivery, Huong Thanh applies her exoticness to any folk tune regardless of its region (south, north or central). Yet, what makes her performances stand out is that she doesn’t belt out like Phi Nhung or screech high like Nhu Quynh. Her soft, gentle approach works just fine. Her rendition of “Co La” (The Soaring of the Heron) is both playful and adorable. The hand-clapped effect provided by Tino Di Geraldo’s palmas added a spontaneous Latin rhythmic to the tune. On “Coi Nguoi” (The Source), she gives a recital of folk lullaby from the south, and then heads up north on “Ru Con Mien Bac” (All is Peace). The differences in accentuation demonstrate her versatility in conveying the aesthetic beauties of each coast.

“Sam Hue Tinh” (One River Two Streams) has to be my favorite track on the album. The sound of Karim Ziad’s charming gumbri (bass) cascaded with Paolo Fresu’s exquisite muted trumpet flowed behind Huong Thanh’s sensuous Hue accent is ear-opening. The harmony comes together like a lustrous potpourri. If Miles Davis was still alive and he knew the possibility of mixing jazz into Vietnamese folk music, he would have moved beyond fusion. With the speed Miles pushed his music and his keenness for new sounds, we might have had a Sketches of Viet Nam arranged and conducted by Nguyen Le. Who knows?

On “Ly Qua Cau” (Crossing the Bridge) “Ly Con Sao” (Blackbird Song), songbird Huong Thanh flies to the south with her enchanting voice supported by the calm but colorful arrangements. Then she travels back to Hue with “Ho Hue” (The Awaiting) and “Ai Ra Xu Hue” (Going Back to Hue). Again, her Hue intonation is irresistible on these two tracks. I know, I love Hue female voices, what can I say?

Milestones is another savory classic from Miles Davis’s sextet. The jump-off, Jackie McLean’s “Dr. Jekyll,” showcases not only Davis’s flying speed on trumpet (Diz’s style), but also the delicious dual saxophones from John Coltrane and Cannonball Adderley. The tilte track, which comes from Davis’s pen, is a masterpiece. In contrast to the swift solos from his saxophonists, Davis’s plays fewer notes, but his blowing is so damn cool in the modal style. The album closes out with an invigorating rendition of Monk’s “Straight, No Chaser,” in which William “Red” Garland on piano, Paul Chambers on bass and “Philly” Joe Jones on drums have done a fantastic job of keeping the rhythm section swinging for Trane to lay down his sheets-of-sound signature. Tony Williams, one of Davis’s favorite drummers who loved to play the title track, once told his chief that Milestones was “the definitive jazz album of all time” because “the spirit in it of everyone who plays jazz.” Miles was astonished and replied, “No shit!?”

A.Z., the Visualiza, once rhymes, “Life’s a bitch and then you die; that’s why we get high / Cause you never know when you’re gonna go.” That’s a street hustler’s tale, but everyone, including a regular guy like me, has a story to tell. In fact, I have many stories, but who would care what I have to say about my ordinary, if not boring, life? Phu Quang, on the other hand, has thirteen simple—but unforgettable—stories in his songbook, Chuyen Binh Thuong, I am sure many people would love to hear. Each piece expresses his feelings, reflects his reminiscences or shares his life experiences in a gorgeous lyrical and musical style.

Who could tell a simple story better then a minimalist herself? Hong Nhung is incomparable on “Khuc Mua.” The way she maneuvers her vocals in and out of the blues-inflected chord and around the bossa-nova rhythm section simply takes my breath away. “Tinh Khuc 24” is also a remarkable performance in which her phrasing is irresistible—especially her effortlessness in carrying those long notes. In addition to Hong Nhung, My Hanh and Ngoc Anh are also featured female vocalists who help Phu Quang convey his story to the audience. Although both singers have a raspy voice (Ngoc Anh’s timbre is thicker), each has a distinctive sound and unique style. My Hanh’s powerful delivery is perfect for the rock-inflected “Dau Phai Boi Mua Thu.” She gives both “Thuong Lam Toc Dai Oi” and “Sinh Nhat Den” a heartfelt, expressive delivery. Though the performances could have been even superior if her breath wasn’t audible. Likewise, Ngoc Anh’s rendition of “Mua Thu Giau Em” could have been finer if she could keep her respiration to a minimum level. Speaking of breath-control technique, Quang Ly is the master. Even when he phrases the high notes on “Da Khuc,” his falsetto is flawless. Furthermore, his sensational vocals, gentle tones, and passionate deliveries go together with Phu Quang’s compositions like bread and butter.

Besides the singers, the producers deserve the credits for their behind-the-scene contribution as well. Viet Anh and Duc Tri have done an ingenious job of arranging simple but vibrant sounds for the vocalists to lay down the lyrical contents. And mad props go to Tang Thanh Nam for his rich, crisp sound on the violin—particularly on “Bang Quo,” in which Phuc Quang tells his story himself. 13 Chuyen Binh Thuong proves that life doesn’t have to be a bitch, if we appreciate its simplicity and live it to the fullest, which doesn’t have to involve getting high either.

I never liked Anh Khoa when he appeared on Paris By Night‘s videos back in early 90s. He wasn’t bad looking, but the man always seemed as if he was about to cry during his performances. At the time, I had enough problems in my real life, especially in school where I was the only Vietnamese kid who spoke a word or two of English; therefore, I couldn’t stand watching him weeping on stage. I needed up-tempo and dance-pop tunes to get my mind off the damn school drama. That was the reason I liked young cats like Don Ho, Kenny Thai, and Thai Tai. In fact, I used to envy Thai Tai when he performed that Elvis Presley’s “It’s Now or Never” with Dalena, a Caucasian girl who could sing Vietnamese flawlessly. Thai Tai was a flyboy, and he was jamming and holding hands with this fine white girl. The dude wasn’t my idol, but I wouldn’t mind being in his position at that moment.

Back to Anh Khoa. Although his stage presence never grabbed my attention, I have always liked the mellow, gentle, and affectionate qualities in his voice. After many years on hiatus in Hungary with his family, he recently recorded Khuc Thuy Du, an album with nothing but romantic ballads including Trinh Cong Son’s “Tuoi Da Buon,” Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi,” and Nguyen Tam’s “Rong Rieu.” What makes the album listenable is Anh Khoa’s relaxed approach to the standards. He hardly pushes his delivery, yet somehow his soul finds its way into the songs. Almost anyone—from Khanh Ly, Tuan Ngoc, Thanh Lam, Nguyen Khang, Thu Phuong, Quang Dung to Dam Vinh Hung—who had sung Trinh Cong Son’s “Mot Coi Di Ve” had poured every piece of aching heart and soul into it, except for Anh Khoa. He takes it the opposite direction—like Miles Davis responded to bebop—by sounding calm and cool, and he pulled it off beautifully. Unfortunately, the banal production from Bao Chan brings his performance down a notch. The album would have been much tighter if Duy Cuong was behind the board. Anh Khoa needs to get a hold of Duy Cuong in his next release. While his unruffled-the-feather style worked brilliantly on “Mot Coi Di Ve,” it didn’t quite fit “Ban Tinh Cuoi” because he didn’t switch to high register and hold his voice at the bridge, which is the highlight of the entire song.

The worse part is when Anh Khoa performs in English. His rendition of Viktor Lazlo’s “Stories” kicks off with a woman who has a weird accent reciting the poem. No, not reciting but just simply reading off the paper because she puts no emotion into it. Then followed by Anh Khoa’s thick-accented, pathetic singing. Why did he even bother recording that track? Beat me. What is he trying to prove? Beat the hell out of me.

Tu Cong Phung, Tuan Ngoc, and Duy Cuong in one album, what more could we ask for? Giot Le Cho Ngan Sau, a Tu Cong Phung’s songbook, is a timeless material that leaves no filler’s spot. Recorded in 1994, the music is as fresh and crisp as it was upon first release—thanks to Duy Cuong’s master of orchestrations. I have heard countless version of “Mat Le Cho Nguoi,” but Duy Cuong’s classical-inspired arrangement combined with Tuan Ngoc’s meticulous delivery sets it apart from the rest. The way he caresses, holds, and discharges the long lines on the title track, Tuan Ngoc’s flawless falsetto proves that he has both technique and soul, and he expresses Tu Cong Phung’s work to its fullest. This album is, without a doubt, a quintessential Vietnamese music.

Tam Su Goi Ve Dau is another classic material from Tuan Ngoc recorded in late 1990. The album featured Tuan Ngoc’s signature performances including Tu Cong Phung’s “Tren Ngon Tinh Sau,” Truong Sa’s “Roi Mai Toi Dua Em,” and Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ao Lua Ha Dong,” which have been recovered by numerous today’s singers, but none has come closed to the musician’s musician. Again, Duy Cuong plays an important role in the production, noticeably his exhilarating piano’s ostinato on Trinh Cong Son’s “Chieu Mot Minh Qua Pho.” It is one of the most elegance arrangements I have heard for this popular piece, and Tuan Ngoc’s voice is as calm and cool as it gets. The record also gives listeners a glimpse of Duy Cuong’s scoring skills. Check out the intro and outro!