Thuy Nga’s latest video, Dreams, boosted up more provocative visual than innovative music. From the sexy trio intro, which featured bosomy Nhu Loan, luscious Loan Chau, and juicy Ho Le Thu, to Tu Quyen’s lingerie and bed-rocking presentation to Thuy Van’s skin-to-skin bump-and-grind, the show was a big dream of orgies. Thuy Nga’s chicks were so disgustingly seductive that we would have a hard time concentrating on the music. I had no clue what Thuy Van and Tu Quyen were singing nor I could recall what their male partners (Nguyen Hung and Luong Tung Quang) looked like next to them. Who could pay attention to the lyrics when Minh Tuyet’s bubble butt and Nhu Loan’s fake but firm breasts occupied our mind? And just when we were about to get tired of looking at the same old girls, Thuy Nga slapped on some new ones to keep us coming back for more. Ngoc Lien was the latest protégé who brought more appearance than voice to the production. But hey, I am not complaining. I don’t mind watching them.

When the sex was not present, the video got boring and stale. We know the drill: get rich on dead writers. Thuy Nga loved to recycle old songs. The problem was their musical production hardly revived the ageless standards. The most disappointing arrangement was in Trinh Cong Son medley. The plain and colorless production weakened the performance. Khanh Ly and Tuan Ngoc were undoubtedly two of the most successful voices in covering Trinh’s work, but their selection for this medley was not so convincing. Khanh Ly sounded aged on “Hay Yeu Nhau Di” and Tuan Ngoc was banal on “Tinh Sau.” The only striking coverage was “Phoi Pha,” in which Tuan Ngoc gave a heartfelt delivery.

I am not sure why Huynh Nhat Tan wasted his time writing idiotic song like “Yeu La Chi?” Even though the chorography was cleaver (specially the creative use of glow sticks), the Chinese/hip-hop/trance mix along with Linda and Tommy’s Vietnamese rap were just incredibly unpleasant. But that performance was not as awful as “Street Dreams” by Van Quynh and Adam Ho. Thuy Nga had turned these two young and innocent kids into pathetic punk rockers. I am sorry to say, but watching them gave me nightmares instead of sweet dreams.

Paris By Night 79 is another typical product from Thuy Nga. I am getting tired of watching it, and I have no motivation of writing it. This is my last piece on DVDs music review, not only from Thuy Nga, but other productions, including Asia and Van Son, as well.

Cao Thai Son is yet another new kid on the block who tries to recover matured music with his recordings, Le Da. Unfortunately, his baby voice—small, sugary, shallow—does not make the standards, such as Trinh Cong Son’s “Roi Doi Di Nhe,” Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ao Lua Ha Dong” and Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Mong Duoi Hoa,” stand out. Even though he has pushed his delivery on the title track, his restricted vocal ability doesn’t allow him to reach deep into the sentimental ballad. The worse performance is when he switches up his flow on Tu Vu’s “Gai Xuan.” The syrupy phrasing combined with the emphatic singing is simply infuriating. Nice try, Son.

The good part about young pop stars recovering golden music is that they make us appreciate the older generation. After watching Asia’s 75 Nam Am Nhac Viet Nam and listening to Thanh Thao’s Bay Ngay Doi Mong, I was inspired to seek out recordings that were made prior to 1975, and Thanh Thuy’s affectionate and passionate vocals hypnotize me. She sang with tremendous attention to the lyrics, and her phrasings were amazing. I love the way Asia’s producers reinvigorate Dang The Phong’s “Giot Mua Thu” for the younger singers, but they could not replace Thanh Thuy’s irreplaceable vocals. Despite the low quality of the recordings, her voice was always captivating. Listening to Thanh Thuy’s interpretation of Vietnamese patriotic music is like Bessie Smith sings the blues. Although she has been able to maintain god-sent voice till this day, I find her early works to be astonishing. If anyone has a collection of her songs and willing to share, your generosity is greatly appreciate it.

Thanh Thao flips her image as fast as her mood. From a Thai’s Barbie to a rock gal to a street chick, and now she is back as a traditional Vietnamese lady with her latest effort Bay Ngay Doi Mong. I am not ashamed to say that fun tracks like Y Van’s “Hai Muoi Bon Muoi” and Van Khoi and Van Phung’s “Trang Son Cuoc” groove me. Unfortunately, romantic ballads such as Tran Thien Thanh’s “Bay Ngay Doi Mong” and Le Huu Ha’s “Nho Nhau Lam Gi” suffer from her limited vocal range. Yet, the most heartfelt performance on the record is Nguyen Vu’s “Loi Cuoi Cho Em” with the aid of Quang Dung. He sings as if he tries to communicate his last words to his lover (especially on the chorus, “Neu ngay mai lo chung minh xa nhau, anh xin muon kiep yeu em ma thoi.”) before she walks down the isle with that rich old fart. Damn, we’re feeling you, QD.

On November 29, 1957, two jazz giants—Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane—joined forces at the Carnegie Hall for a concert recording that made history. Stylistically, Monk’s angularity and Trane’s virtuosity did not seem to fit, but the two were hand in glove when they gigged together. Monk’s disruptive chops made Trane’s flows more fluid. In reverse, Trane’s smooth tones added sensual details to Monk’s fractured sounds. Together the two geniuses had created an opposite attraction with their irresistible harmonies.

At the Carnegie Hall featured both shows from the Thanksgiving Jazz event in 1957, and eight out of nine performances were Monk’s signature compositions including “Monk’s Mood,” “Evidence” and “Epistrophy.” Monk was a man of his own world in both music and life. His music was too different and too hard to understand. Yet, Trane, an eccentric man himself, was able to tap into Monk’s mind. As a result, they were speaking the same language. “Blue Monk” is a perfect illustration that shows the two communicated to each other in an astonishing level. The tenor and the piano were brilliantly completing each other’s sentences on the first chorus before Trane immerged himself into his tireless, rapid-fire improvisation. After Trane, Monk gave a mind-blowing solo with his downward-scale technique, staccato style, and exquisite alter chord.

If I have to pick a title track for this album, it would be “Sweet and Lovely,” which appropriately describes the prosperous collaboration between Monk and Trane, and their performance was exactly what the title had suggested. Monk kicked off the standard ballad with his idiosyncratic solo in a mild rhythm section provided by Shadow Wilson’s soft brushstrokes and Ahmed Abdul-Malik’s thumping pizzicatos. Trane took over the bridge and his restless phrasing entered as the tempo picked up. Trane blew like he could go on forever without needing to take a breath while Monk dropped exotic keys in the background to complement his man. Not only this particular piece, but also every performance was filled with vivid colors, splendid textures and endless imaginations.

Although the recording was made almost fifty years ago, the sound is clear and the music is still fresh. Big up to Larry Appelbaum, the recording lab supervisor at Library of Congress, for discovering this rare gem. It is definitely a timeless work of art, especially for the jazz cognoscenti.

Asia Entertainment tried to do the impossible, and that is to cover almost a century worth of music in a couple of hours. As a result, they only scratch the surface of the history of Vietnamese music. What I want to see is more details of how our music has changed and grown over the years, and how earlier important figures like Van Cao and Pham Duy have influenced the latter songwriters. Maybe that requires Asia to make more than one release, but they want to sell more DVDs, don’t they? Nevertheless, 75 Nam Am Nhac Viet Nam (75 Years of Vietnamese Music) is a fantastic show.

The best part about Asia is that they never recycle their arrangements, and with a handful of skillful producers like Truc Ho, Truc Sinh, Sy Dan, and Vu Tuan Duc, they always churn out great sounds. For instance, the earlier version of Dang The Phong’s “Giot Mua Thu,” which was produced years ago for Asia’s girls including Nini, Ha Vy, and Vina Uyen My, was gorgeous, but they refresh it again this time for Anh Minh and Thuy Duong.

Beside the breathtaking arrangements, Asia is doing something quite odd on this video by pairing up singers from the two different generations. Kieu Nga and Trish on “May Lang Thang” is a strange combination, but the production pulls them together in a creative way. Kieu Nga starts off “May Lang Thang” with a mid tempo so that her strong and clear vocals can dominate. When Trish enters the stage, the beat accelerates and she rides right inside it. Her voice is small, but not overshadowed by the pulsating club groove. This is one of Trish’s best performances I have heard in years. The same goes for Thanh Tung’s “Mua Ngau” with Thanh Lan and Da Nhat Yen on the same stage. The arrangement switches to fast tempo when Da Nhat Yen kicks in. She is actually the only younger generation that topped her older partner. I am not saying Thanh Lan is not good, but the song doesn’t seem to fit her well. Another indelible blend is Don Ho and Dieu Huong. Backed up by Don Ho’s whispery vocals (his special talent), Dieu Huong gives a remarkable performance of her own “Vi Do La Em.” Don Ho also delivers a heartfelt performance on her romantic ballad “Chi Co Mot Thoi.”

Asia 4 doesn’t impress me much with their dance version of Duc Huy’s “Va Toi Cung Yeu Em,” but homeboy Chosen got the flow. His delivery is fast, clear, and way more natural than Hearts to Exist. His rhymes are not that interesting except for the line, “Bun Bo Hue with a little bit of rice.” Now that is Vietnamese ghetto style.

On the weaker side, Lam Nhat Tien could not express Van Cao’s “Thien Thai” to the fullest. His performance is not dramatic enough. Nguyen Khang and Vu Tuan Duc don’t go well together on Doan Chuan and Tu Linh’s “Duong Ve Viet Bac.” Thien Kim does not bring anything to Trinh Cong Son’s “Tinh Nho.” Still, Asia has once again delivered a fine presentation from musical arrangement to stage design to song selection. We’re also feeling their new protégé, Dang The Luan who has tremendous potential in becoming Duy Khanh’s successor.

In Duong Xua Van Dam, Quoc Trung gives Vietnamese traditional music (cheo, quan ho and hat xam) an unorthodox makeover. His masterful arrangements not only revived the aesthetic experience, but also retained the original flavor. By cascading eastern instruments into world-music rhythm, he has crafted some of the most exotic and imaginative sounds. For instance, the keyboard and the sixteen-stringed zither play side by side on “Dong Song Mot Bo” creating a sensational east-joins-west harmony. Duong Xa Van Dam is rich, colorful and exquisite. Even though you can download high-quality MP3, I encourage you to get the original album when it is available. Quoc Trung deserves the support for his inventive work.

Thu Phuong has quite an ambition. She wants to gain young and new fans without losing her dedicated followers. Instead of releasing an album with various tunes, which is what most young pop stars including Dam Vinh Hung, Nguyen Khang, and Ho Quynh Huong have done, to cover a wide range of demographics, Thu Phuong drops three records simultaneously with each pushing for a specific audience. It’s a much smarter tactic then trying to cramp everything into one. She knows damn well that Doan Chuan and Tu Linh’s “Thu Quyen Ru” and Duy Manh’s “Kiep Do Den” won’t sound right on the same album. As long as she separates the short-lived from timeless tunes, I don’t care how much she wants to entertain the young crowds.

Em Ra Di Mua Thu, which targets the experienced listeners, is the finest out of the three albums. The record is played off on a thematic approach—similar to the classic Doan Khuc Mua Thu Ha Noi in which Hong Nhung gives us a tour of the romantic and picturesque details of the Viet Nam’s capitol. From the opening of Pham Trong Cau’s “Em Ra Di Mua Thu” to the closing of Pham Duy’s “Mua Thu Chet,” Thu Phuong performs with all of her heart to paint eleven gorgeous musical landscapes based around the theme of fall. Each track is carefully chosen and attentively arranged to give listeners the aesthetic beauty of changing leafs season.

The album starts off with the title track produced by Le Sy Du (who is responsible for nine tracks on the album). His arrangement is simple but pushes Thu Phuong’s performance. On the break, the smooth saxophone solo adds rich and sensuous harmonies to her unequivocal delivery. After the break, the sax joins along side with Thu Phuong to create exotic details. On Pham Manh Cuong’s “Thu Ca,” she pours out her soul on the marvelous Latin rhythm section arranged by Trung Nghia. Another fabulous contribution from Trung Nghia is his production on Pham Duy’s “Mua Thu Chet.” His intoxicating jazz groove allows Thu Phuong to reinvigorates the old tune. Teaming up with Ho Kim Hieu (who is an unknown vocalist to me, but she does has a mesmerizing voice), Thu Phuong gives Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Mua Thu Cho Em” a sensational rendition. She also provides Phu Quang’s “Dau Phai Mua Thu” an exhilarating presentation with her genuine interpretation.

Em Ra Di Mua Thu is a great follow up from her previous triumphant Nhu Mot Loi Chia Tay (a Trinh Cong Son’s songbook); however, her only weakness is the breath issue. I let it slid on the last album because she was using Trinh’s music to express her emotion. Breath management does make a huge difference, at least for me. Take the duet with Le Thu on Pham Duy’s “Nuoc Mat Mua Thu” for example. It’s definitely a savory collaboration between the two generations, but we can decipher why Le Thu is still superior. Her technical skill is flawless despite of her age. Nevertheless, I have to give it to Thu Phuong. She has crafted another priceless record. Of course, the sugary albums she released to win the young hearts don’t count. Let’s hope she will improve her breath control and won’t record any more syrupy albums.

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. The materials on her debut Giac Mo Co That do not bring out the aesthetics of her marvelous vocals. She is wasting her talent with the translated ballads (“Ve Ben Em” and “Phut Giay Hanh Phuc”) and saccharine pop tunes (Le Quang’s “Quen Mot Cuoc Tinh” and Vo Thien Thanh’s “Trang Chieu”). As much as I enjoy Tuan Nghia’s “Hay Tra Loi Em,” the performance doesn’t leave a lasting impact. With that strong and slightly raspy voice, she can do better to elevate her stature. I am looking forward to a wiser decision-making (musical choices) in her next work.

I am not kidding. If Dinh Tien Dat’s D. is considered a hip-hop album, we’re in trouble. I hate to be so hard on someone who tries his hardest to bring hip-hop into the Vietnamese pop culture, but he does it all wrong. His hip-hop debut is straight artless. Even before listening to the album, I could predict the outcome, yet I still give it a shot to see if I could pick out something interesting. Apparently, I walk away with nothing but frustration.

One of hip-hop’s essential elements is the art of storytelling. Hip-hop is a canvas that allows artists to paint their personal stories, and Mr. Dee has none. He is not a lyricist, and the only tale he could tell is the bittersweet love of Romeo and Juliet, not even his own. Do we really need Mr. Dee to remind us Shakespeare’s classic romance? Come on Dee, give us something original, something that moves us, something that means deeper than the banal relationship you’ve penned on “Roi Xa,” which sounds like you’re trying to flip a romantic ballad. Nonetheless, I sympathize Dee’s limited subject choices. The true form of hip-hop is self-expression; however, that true form will never make its way to Viet Nam. I am not saying that we don’t have talented artists to do so, but it will never happen until there is such thing as Freedom of Speech in Viet Nam. If Dee or any other rapper expresses his political view, something like what Eminem did with “Mosh” before the election, he would be spitting behind bars instead of on stage.

Even if we can look past the lyrical content, the technique, which Dee has yet to master, is not forgivable. No matter how many times he tries to switch it up, his stilted flow still shows. His delivery is emotionless and he can’t ride the beat. Even on the club joints, which are plenty on this album, he tries to catch up with the beat instead of floats with it. Although his singing is horrendous, it is not the most disappointed thing on the album. What gets to me is that D. featured not one but four Korean-robbed tunes (“Roi Xa,” “Con Tim Tinh Yeu,” “Nguoi Da Khong Con” and “Biet Em Da Ve”). With saccharine Korean grooves overcoating lame Vietnamese lyrics, I don’t know what kind of music it is, but certainly not hip-hop.

I have read somewhere that Dee is working on his next release. Please man, learn to love and respect the music. Be original, be innovative, or stop making artificial hip-hop records. It’s really a damn shame.