I have to give it to Thuy Nga for turning an emotional topic into their sex standards. The first thirty minutes of Paris by Night 77: 30 Nam Vien Xu is soul-stirring, heart-rending, and spirit-shattering. I was touched by the documentary clips on the boat-escaping adventure, and inspired by those who went out of their ways to help our people. Unfortunately those heartfelt moments quickly dissolved into the air as the video progresses into the sex zone.

It used to be that real singers draw the crowd with their real voices. Nowadays, fake singers get viewers attention with their fake boobs. Ngoc Lan didn’t have to bare her skin to bring her audiences “Tan Tac,” “Nguoi Tinh Tram Nam,” and many songs that were born in the States. She brought them with her heart and soul. Don’t give me wrong, I love hot bodies, but there is the place and time for everything. Thuy Nga invited special guests (mostly foreigners) to pay tribute for what they have done for us, yet our girls bare their skins to show that we have come a long way – from immigrants to sex barbies. Is it me or is Luu Bich turning from sexy into sleazy? For a few minutes, I thought Stifler’s mom is on Paris by Night doing her things with the young dancers. Her recovering of “Uoc Hen” and “Tan Tac” offer nothing new but the low skirt. She is not the only one. Ho Le Thu, Minh Tuyet, and even Thuy Tien are as guilty as charged.

On the bright side, older singers such as Khanh Ly, Le Thu, Hoang Oanh, and Khanh Ha are the appropriate representation of our Vietnamese women. Their singings leave deeper impact than those young faces. Even though male singers are subdued by females’ provocative appearances, they have contributed some memorable contents to the show. Duong Trieu Vu is convincing in “Vien Khuc Viet Nam” and The Son is compelling in “Bai Ca Hoc Tro.” The Son is at his best when he could feel the lyrics. On “Bai Ca Hoc Tro,” he has successfully transferred the writer’s words to the listeners. Here is my loose translation: “Dear professor, this is my essay / an essay is written about the US / I misspelled twice the word ‘America’ / I misspelled twice the word ‘Communist’ / I misspelled twice the word ‘Liberty’.”

If Thuy Nga toned down the tramp appeal and selected more suitable songs, Paris by Night 77 would have been an invaluable DVD. Even though the documentaries are educational, we can’t show our kids the entire presentation without skipping some of the performances.

World music with an attitude is the sound of the Sri Lankan MC, Maya Arulpragasam, who goes by the name M.I.A. Her debut album, Arular, is a hard knock life and beat. Underneath the big and bouncy arrangements are the bold and provocative lyrics ranging from politics to prostitutions. The jungle beats suggest partying and dancing, but her words advocate bombing and rioting. So don’t mistake the petit figure and the pretty face for being fragile. She is nice, but “a nice nice fighter,” and she will “fight you just to get peace.”

What sets M.I.A. apart is her fusion of controversial contents into the playful productions. On “Pull Up the People,” she raps behind the trunk-crusher bass, “Every gun in a battle is a son and daughter too / So why you wanna talk about who done who?” She aslo proves that less is more with her minimalism rhyme scheme. Hiding in between the heavy beat and her wordless refrain on “10 Dollar,” she flows in the British accent, “Lolita, was a man-eater / Clocked him like a taxi meter. Fuck gold, she was platinum digger / Shakin-ass-making moves on a mover.”

When M.I.A. talks about sex, she makes bubbles rise in our bloodstream. On the dancehall reggae “Hombre,” the verses are simple yet disturbing, “You can stick me / Stab me, grind me or wind me / Fuck, we can even ask your wifey / Rich bored at home with a kiddy / She don’t know about you getting nookie.”

The power of her music is rooted in the rough rhymes that are merged inside smooth beats. She wants the body to move, but the ears to listen as well. That’s the M.I.A. thang.

Like a candy shop, My Tam’s Color of My Life is filled with sweet pops. Many young musicians transform their styles to rebirth themselves; My Tam does not have to. Her loyal fans love her just the way she is. Therefore, she spends time blowing her bubblegum instead of popping it. She not only pens some of her own songs, but also gets involve behind the boards, and feeds her idea to the album design.

My Tam is undoubtedly a young and smart entertainer. She knows who pay her bills (if there are such things in Viet Nam), and she knows just what they want from her. Taking clues from the unexpected success of her 2003’s Yesterday & Now, she recycles the scheme by throwing in a song from Trinh Cong Son, two translated popular ballads, a few club joints, and plenty of puppy loves. Although I am living in the States, I can hear teenage boys and girls in Viet Nam flirt with each other using her elementary rhymes, “Oh! First kiss. You make me so happy. You make me so crazy.” The entire lyrics of “Nu Hon Bat Ngo” (A Surprised Kiss) were written in Vietnamese except for that line. She did it on purpose to get the listeners hooked. Despite how exasperating I get every time I listen to that hook, I must admit that the beat is bouncy and the lyrics are catchy, and the song comes straight from her pen. My Tam also proves that she can write both fast and slow jams. She has composed a light lay back melody on “Nho…” (Remember…), and she sings with the calmness of her breath and sweetness of her voice.

My Tam’s own compositions only filled up a quarter of the album. The rest comes from today’s popular songwriters such as Le Quang, Vo Thien Thanh, and Tuong Van. My Tam has given her best shot, without breaking a sweat, to make these songs her standards. On Tuong Van’s “Roi Mai Thuc Giac” (And Tomorrow Wake Up), she knows how to tag her name to it by giving a polished performance. If she closes out the album at track ten, “Nhip Dap Dai Kho” (Foolish Heartbeat), the album would still have been completed. But she goes the extra miles to recover a few popular songs. Unfortunately, her version of the Japanese pop’s “Nguoi Yeu Dau Oi” (Oh, My Darling) is not as rejuvenating as it could have been. With Trinh’s “Em Hay Ngu Di” (Sleep Well Dear), nothing is reviving until the last part where she breaks free from Trinh’s style and injects her own. It’s not the best rendition I’ve ever heard, but it has bit of distinctiveness.

Popular albums work like batteries. They start off strong but get weakening over time. Although My Tam has crafted a tight record in both performance and arrangement, I don’t see myself coming back to Color of My Life over and over again like I do with Thanh Lam’s Nang Len (Sunrise). Then again, young listeners would not give Nang Len a chance.

While many instrumental albums take several spins to reveal their visual aesthetics, Suzanne Z. Shu‘s Love for Homeland only needs one. It must be the power of God. Through her Er-hu (a traditional Chinese two-string bowed instrument) and her love for Jesus Christ, she connects listeners with her music. Using her instrument as a melodic brush, she captures exquisite images with her sound, and God is in the details.

Love for Homeland is like a trip down memory lane for Miss. Shu, and she takes listeners on the journey with her. The album opens with a gorgeous landscape of “Spring in Southern China.” Composed by Chang Yao Zhu and accompanied by Yang Qin’ zither, Miss. Shu’s Er-hu leads us through “the incomparable beauty of Southern China’s river villages” (album notes). The voyage continues with sounds of nature on Lien Hua Liu’s “Birds Singing on the Mountain.” Her intricate fiddling style on this track is simply amazing. Her saws are fast and clear. I am stunned by the variety of sounds that come out of just two strings. The part where she scratches her Er-hu is like a DJ on a turntable, only the sound is much more distinctive and impossible to accomplish with a record.

Miss. Shu and her ensemble have not only created a joyful image on Hai Huai Huang’s “Horse Racing,” but they have also added a dazzling motion to the composition. All we have to do is imagining Ziyi Zhang riding a horse through the green grass plains, and let Miss. Shu’s Er-hu fill in the motion graphics with her wondrous harmonies of nature. In contrast to “Horse Racing” ‘s energetic vibe, “Childhood,” which composed by Shu when she was seventeen years old, is a calm and delightful reflection of her upbringing in China. In this particular piece, her Er-hu is a reminiscent of a human voice, a female vocalist with a sophisticated level phrasing and perfect breath control. The music is quiet, but the image is accessible.

Even though I have never met Miss. Shu, she has inspired me as someone who uses her God-sent talent to serve God. Instead of taking her masterful skill to fame and fortune, which she could easily achieve (Kanye West would be thrilled to sample her sounds), she uses it to praise the Lord. Her rendition of John Newton’s “Amazing Grace” is both uplifting and astonishing. The Chinese instruments give this Western classic a unique harmony. Like the words of God, every sound that comes out of Miss. Shu Er-hu is soulful, graceful, and powerful.

Tran Thu Ha is perhaps the most under-appreciated singer in the Vietnamese-American community, even though she is a pop phenomenon with a style of her own. Ha has always been a boundary breaker, and her work on Nhat Thuc (Eclipse) proves it. Unfortunately, most listeners have a hard time assimilating Ngoc Dai’s eccentric vision. When I rocked that CD at my family’s dinner party, everyone looked at me and asked, “What the heck are you listening to?” Not too many people cherished that rare form of art.

About a month ago, I went to a Vietnamese concert at the Foxwoods Resort Casino in Mashantucket, Connecticut, and Ha’s performance was the least applauded one. When the host, Nguyen Cao Ky Duyen, announced the coming of Tran Thu Ha’s first album in the United States, I was excited. This would be the chance for her to re-establish her fame with the Vietnamese-American audience. Regrettably, Sac Mau, which is a remaking of her popular hits from 1998 to 2003, is not a groundbreaking work.

The problem is that Ha tries to please her listeners instead of following her heart. She gives them what they want to hear, and she takes no risks. As a result, even a colorful arrangement could not give Tran Tien’s “Sac Mau” a new image. With Le Minh Son’s “Chay Tron,” she barely pushes her voice over the fusion of jazz and bossa nova tune, and she hardly transports her passion into the lyrics. Could it be that Ha is deeply in love, and music is no longer her priority? Unlike Thu Phuong, Ha has no drama in her life, and her naked (without instrument) version of Trinh Cong Son’s “Tien Thoai Luong Nan” shows it. She doesn’t bring the thirst into the work the way that Phuong does.

Even though the album doesn’t offer much elevation to Ha’s position, Sac Mau is still a solid work. The lead-off track “Mua Xuan Goi” and “Dong Song Mua Thu,” both composed by Tran Tien, have reviving and refreshing productions. Assisted by Thanh Thuy’s sixteen-stringed zither, Ha gives Viet Hung’s “Mua Thang Gieng” a contemporary folk flavor. Although the rest of the recordings provide casual satisfaction, Ha has wasted an opportunity to epitomize her distinctive talent by playing safe.

In order to present Trinh Cong Son’s music to its full potential, a singer must live and breathe his lyrics. While dealing with personal dramas in her life, Thu Phuong found consolation in his words. When she performs his songs, they comfort her heart and bring peace to her mind. As a result, she was able to tap into his emotional consciousness on her newest album Nhu Mot Loi Chia Tay, which translates as Like the Word Goodbye.

In the introduction, Phuong shares with listeners why she chose Trinh’s music and the reason she selected “Nhu Mot Loi Chia Tay” for her album title. She would like to show her appreciation to those who have supported her throughout her career, especially her family members and fans she left behind in Viet Nam. So when she pours her heart into the title track, she means every word she sings: “Muon mot lan ta on voi doi / chut man nong cho toi / co nhung lan nam nghe tieng cuoi / nhu chi la mo thoi” (Want a time to thank life / for giving me passion / several times I lie down, hear laughter / but it’s just a dream). She devoted so much soul into the work that by the time Luan Vu’s violin break saws through our hearts, we are completely shattered. In addition, Peter Pfiefer’s light brushwork is a wonderful enrichment for her singing.

Phuong’s enthusiasm continues to excel on “Mot Coi Di Ve.” Her big, deep, and raspy voice is the heart and soul of the melancholy ballad. The lyrics emulate her life and she holds nothing back. She keeps on streaming her emotional vocals into the notes until they overflow. Again on “Tien Thoai Luong Nan,” the words mirror her hopeless state of mind, and her sincerity is evident. She has not only found her way inside the music, but also allowed her spirit to transcend the lyrics. As a consequence, her singing is calm but filled with fervor.

Phuong and her musical producer give “Dau Chan Dia Dang” a rebirth. They have demonstrated how jazz can reinvigorate Trinh’s work. Despite the age of the song, the feverish jazz spins along with Phuong’s elegant phrases, making the tune sounds as contemporary as ever. Her slightly raucous voice, which coarsens or strains when the word required, is essential for coloring the jazz aesthetics.

Phuong can be as quiet as the underworld, or as huge as the earth itself. While her calm, almost meditative, version of “Nhu Canh Vat Bay,” “Nhin Nhung Mua Thu Di,” “Uot Mi,” and “Cat Bui Tinh Xa” are urging to soothe, her soul-stirring interpretation of “Song Ve Dau” is waiting to explode. The major revelation of all is her voice, big but never brassy, even when the notes are high and long. “Chiec La Thu Phai” is another unforgettable track where she flows passionately in and out of the rumba ballad.

Nhu Mot Loi Chia Tay is what a Trinh album should be: expressive in vocal performance and exquisite in musical production. Not too many of Trinh’s music recordings meet my expectation, but this one fulfilled it. With this album, Phuong has raised the bar for those who would seek to record his work. They cannot just study the lyrics and the phrasings, but they must experience them in order to bring out the true feelings. What could be more devastating for a woman than her inability to return to her homeland and to be with her children? Even as tough as Phuong is, she needs an outlet, and Trinh’s music provided that emotional grip. Phuong, keep your head up. I feel your pain, but if you can make it through the night, there will be a brighter day. The sun won’t rain forever.

A Visualgui.com reader – who is also an aspiring singer – introduced me to Eva Cassidy and I’ve been hooked. Cassidy’s style variation was boundless. Whether she sang jazz, blues, folk, pop, rock, gospel or country, her clear and powerful vocals felt right at home. From Marlena Shaw’s “Wade in the Water” to Paul McCartney “Yesterday,” she sang with tremendous attention the lyrics. Her skillful phrasing and intricate interpretation made her performances sound fresh and distinctive.

Some of my favorite songs she covered include “Wayfaring Stranger,” “It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing),” “What a Wonderful World,” “Songbird,” and “Penny to My Name.” Although she is no longer living on this earth, her music is still alive. I am still absorbing five of her albums back to back, and loving her jazzy tracks. If you have a chance, give Songbird a spin.

Thanks Thu Hoai for getting me sucked into Cassidy’s soul.

By now fans should know what to expect from Van Son production: same MC, same singers, same comedians, and pretty much same strategies. The only difference is where they would perform, and this time the place is Japan. I am not complaining since they do a great job of incorporating the cultures into the show. On Van Son 29, they introduce Japanese’s Shinto dance, folk music, and brief documentation on Japanese in general and Vietnamese people in Japan.

Van Son’s niche has always been the short comedies. Although most of them are not too bad, I only enjoy “Nguoi Ban Toi” because Van Son, Hong Dao, and Quang Minh go off the context a bit. I like it when comedians get out of the routine and be themselves. That way they act more natural.

On music, the best performances are from Nguyen Khang (“Van Yeu”) and Diem Lien (“Roi Mai Em Di”). Both songs come from Huynh Nhat Tan’s pen. I also dig the new girl Vy. Her lyrics mirror her attitude on “This is Vy.” Furthermore, her choreography, style, hair, and outfit reminded me of the great R&B singer Aaliyah.

On the much-needed improvement, they need to drop those translated songs, which are way too many on this video. Even Tuan Ngoc and Thai Thao perform a translated version of “Beauty and the Beast.” Huynh Nhat Tan is also wasting his skills on the translate tracks: “Em Can Cho Anh,” perform by Cat Tien, and “Yeu Em Suot Doi,” perform by Cat Tien and Nguyen Thang. Speaking of Nguyen Thang, his own attempt of translation on “Van Yeu” is bad. Dude looks and moves like a cheap version of Justin Timberlake, and the dancers look so trashy in their skanky skirts. Yet, the worse performance of all goes to Minh Tri’s “Khuc Hat Xot Xa.” His feminine vocals combined with his cheesy lyrics are intolerable. I try my hardest, but my hand forces me to hit skip.

Van Son is one of the top three Vietnamese music productions in the US. While they are cashing in on their sitcoms, their music is still way behind Asia and Thuy Nga productions.

“Me and Mariah / Go back like babies with pacifiers / Ol’ Dirty Dog no liar / Kickin’ fantasy hot like fire,” Ol’ Dirty Bastard rapped over the remix version of “Fantasy,” one of Mariah Carey’s successful tracks that jump-started her crossover with hip-hop. Her latest album The Emancipation of Mimi continues the trend by collaborating with some of the hottest hip-hop heads, such as Snoop Doggy Dogg, Twista, and Nelly.

The album starter, “It’s Like That,” kicks off the party with a club groove from one of hip-hop’s finest dance floor producers, Jermaine Dupri. The best part of the track is when Carey’s high-pitched vocals join Fatman Scoop’s big and brassy voice for the playful crowd-rocking lines, “Let’s go now, here we go now.” Again on “Shake It Off,” she uses R Kelly’s fast flowing technique over Dupre’s booty-dropping beat for more R&B bumping and grinding. With the support of Nelly on “Get Your Number,” she applies her whispery voice, seducing, “I gotta PIP penthouse with a sick hot tub / we can watch the flat screen while the bubbles fill it up.” She sounds so damn sexy. Other than Dupri, the Neptunes are also responsible for the bouncy productions including “Say Somethin'” with Snoop Dogg and “To The Floor” with Nelly.

After getting her listeners all soaked up, she cools them down with a few slow jams including the thug loving “One & One” with the fastest spitter Twista. On Carey’s signature piece, “Mine Again,” her powerful vocal along with her emotional delivery infused everlasting life into the cut. “Circles” is another passionate track that is filled with Carey’s high tone aesthetic. The album closes out with “Fly Like a Bird” indicating the emancipation of Mimi. She is free like a bird, and flies high to the sky.

Ho Quynh Huong is popping up everywhere. She is currently the industry’s favorite babe. Ever since her second volume Ngay Diu Dang (A Sweet Day) drops, all eyes are on her. Qualified as a fresh rising star, Huong has the style, the attitude, and the voice. Above all, she sounds best when she has blazing beats to ride with, and her album proves it.

Ngay Diu Dang is like an experimental project for Huong. She covers everything from pop, jazz, rock to hip-hop. Surprisingly, the most successful track is Duc Tri’s “Toi Tim Thay Toi” (I Find Myself). She knows how to swing her gorgeous voice – smooth, deep with a slight cracked mantra – around the intoxicating jazz chord. After listening to that song, I just want to grab her and say, “Look ma, this is it. Give me more of it.” But even with honey pop performances, she is never unlistenable. For instance, she flows in and out of a pleasing up-tempo pop tune on Vo Thien Thanh’s “Ngay Hom Qua” (Yesterday) The mesmerizing sax breakdown gives the song a fragrance of jazz.

To give listeners different flavors, she switches up her style to blend in with various genres. Her delivery becomes rock-up when she covers Le Quang’s “Tinh Yeu Khong Quay Ve” (Love Doesn’t Return) to give listeners a taste of rock. Then she chops up her flow on Ha Dung’s “Tinh Yeu” (Love) for the hip-hop vibe. On the quieter tracks, including her own pen’s “Muon Yeu Anh” (Want to Love You), she transforms them into romantic ballads.

Whether Ho Quynh Huong doesn’t have a clear path of where she wants to go or she is being greedy, her all-you-can-eat buffet is still chewable. Although I am not a fan of flashy pop songs, I have to give her props for bringing them to my ears. Nonetheless, I still hope she would have a more focused direction on her next album.