After four years on hiatus, Hà Anh Tuấn returns with a production-driven album. The process begins with producer Nguyễn Hoàng Gia coming up with the beats. Then composer Nguyễn Hoàng Anh and Nguyễn Bá Hùng Lân write the melodies and arrangements before returning them to Nguyễn Hoàng Gia for the lyrics. As a result, the beat is the major force behind the album.

After two minutes of pointless intro, the album starts with “Cuộc Chiến,” a strong, hip-hop backbeat complementing lyrics about self struggles: “Cơn đau hôm qua không còn dấu vết / Chỉ còn lại nổi sợ và hoan mang / Chẳng thấy bống dáng của ai kia / Tự mình lại làm mình đau.” “Vô Hình” begins with a lonesome piano stroll before the thumbing drum bass kicks in. The story of battling oneself is now shifted to invisible love. “Thủy Tinh” continues with a pop-rock progression. The theme stays on the heart-broken territory: “Vỡ tan dễ như chiếc ly thủy tinh tự mình đánh rơi trong một cơn mê say.”

“Nhịp Si Mê” switches to an infectious reggae groove before “Cứ Thế,” the only slow joint on the album, takes down the vibe. Xanh Mãi (Forever Young) picks it up again with a R&B-rap collaboration and a positive message: “Tuổi trẻ luôn đi tới không nên rút lui / Vẽ lên những giai điệu cho bạn cho tôi / Để sau này nhìn lại ta không tiếc nuối.”

The title track closes the album with futuristic rock production. Although the concepts and the styles are all over the map, the beats keep the album coherent. It’s always a treat to hear a Vietnamese album with quality productions.

On the album cover Uyên Linh and Dũng Đà Lạt fused into a single entity like El Lissitzky’s 1929 poster “USSR Russische Ausstellung.” In the album Uyên Linh’s voice and Dũng Đà Lạt’s guitar weaved together like a pair of lovebirds.

With an entire record penned by Dũng Đà Lạt (five out the seven tracks are specifically for Uyên Linh), the two make Ước Sao Ta Chưa Gặp Nhau for themselves and no one else. The title track kicks off with just Uyên Linh’s voice accompanied by Dũng Đà Lạt’s picking guitar to give the sense of intimacy: “Em, đưa tôi đến xa xôi bình yên / Nơi tôi đã sống bao tháng ngày yêu dấu.”

“Ước Muốn Tàn Phai” continues with the dead-slow tempo expressing their love-hate relationship. “Trông Tình” brings the vide up a notch with a funk arrangement. The bass guitar combined with the electric keyboard is hypnotizing. “Ngày Mưa” returns to the simple guitar accompaniment, but “Như Cánh Hoa Đêm” switches up the tempo with Dũng Đà Lạt’s savory obstinato dancing around Uyên Linh’s vocals. The last two tracks, “Tình Lại Đến Như Vừa Bắt Đầu” and “Nơi Cuối Chân Trời,” are arranged and accompanied by Hoài Sa.

Because Dũng Đà Lạt and Uyên Linh have crafted an album for themselves, they have no interest in bringing their stories to you. You have to come to them and the album might take some time to get into or might not at all. Furthermore, Uyên Linh’s style is more of a traditional pop singer. She has a big voice, but barely gets out of her comfort zone. Then again she doesn’t need to for this up close and personal record.

Listening to Quang Dũng’s newest record makes me want to smack the sense out of him. What is the purpose? Sure, he wants to give over-sentimental standards (Nhạc Trữ Tình) a try. I get it, but he brings nothing fresh to these bolero ballads. His stiffed delivery, particular in “Tiếng Còi Trong Sương Đêm” (Lê Trực), combined with his lack of emotion and versatility make him sound incredibly stodgy. The trite productions are not helping him either. Released just a week before the holidays, Bài Thơ Không Đoạn Kết has managed to make the list of one of most pointless albums of 2014.

To keep with the tradition, I want to post the best of Vietnamese albums each year. This year, however, I didn’t get a chance to listen to many albums like I had in the previous years. With my limited selection, I can only list my 10 favorites of 2014.

1. Đức Tuấn – Requiem: From concept to production, this album was crafted with high standard. Đức Tuấn gave his best performance in years.
2. Danh Việt – Chẳng Có Tình Ca: With Danh Việt’s debut, composer-producer Quốc Bảo gives the Vietnamese pop scene the middle finger. It strands away from the current pop trends. All tunes are new and original.
3. Nguyên Hà – Địa Đàng 2: Although Nguyên Hà has a limited vocal range and a few minor issues of enunciation, she is a compelling storyteller. Quốc Bảo recognizes her strength; therefore, he crafts minimal arrangements with generous space for her to tell his tales.
4. Bạch Yến –Hát Tình Ca Lam Phương: The man who has contributed priceless treasures to Vietnamese music deserves an album like this.
5. Phương Vy – Khi Ta 20: This is the album I listened to the most in 2014. It gives a grown-ass man like me nostalgia. Phương Vy and her tasteful, talented musicians reinvigorated the old pop collection by returning to the basics.
6. Thanh Lam & Tùng Dương – Yêu: The best part of Thanh Lam and Tùng Dương’s collaboration is the spellbinding orchestral work. Lê Phi Phi’s elegant, captivating arrangements, which lift the vocalists to a higher level, stand out by themselves.
7. Võ Thiện Thanh – Trung Nguyên Lounge Music: A double set to chill out with. Whether in shopping malls or coffee shops, these two albums will calm your nerves and melt your soul.
8. Nguyên Khang – Tình Hờ: A beautiful ballad album that showcases Nguyên Khang’s mature vocal delivery.
9. Asia Icons – Mai Lệ Huyền: Mad kudos to Brian Morales for his brilliant work of reinterpreting her popular hits in the 60s to 70s and giving them a fresh, new makeover.
10. Bằng Kiều, Thiên Tôn & Đình Bảo – Đời Đá Vàng: Bằng Kiều with a soaring falsetto, Thiên Tôn with a charming tenor, and Đình Bảo with a delightful baritone. Using their various tones and individual strengths, they have found a way to harmonize themselves as a group.

If Việt pop is politic, Minh Tuyết would be the queen of the Republican Party. She only needs to reach her base and no one else. No crime in that. Like many of her previous releases, the title alone lets you know what the album is all about. No crime in that either; however, my main concern is the one group of audience that she is targeting: teenage girls.

Although I don’t have a daughter, the name of the album, Anh Muốn Em Sống Sao, which translated to “How Do You Want Me to Live,” is still alarming to me. Penned by Chi Dân, the tune, which had been performed on Paris By Night 111 by Minh Tuyết and chosen for this album title, shouldn’t be a model for young girls. Telling them “how do you want me to live” is the same as giving up control of their own lives. I have listened to this tune at least a dozen times and Minh Tuyết has made it really damn convincing that she lived every word she sang—whether she truly meant it or through her gift of lyricizing this type of romantic hopelessness.

For me, it’s a guilty pleasure at first, but then I realize it may send a wrong message to innocent teenage girls. Let’s me try to break down the lyrics. The song starts out: “Từ sâu trong đôi mắt này, anh hờ hững không như bao ngày / Phải chăng nơi chốn đây, để anh vội đến và rồi vội đi?” The second line gives the guy the free pass. He could come to her whenever he wanted to and he could go whenever he felt like it. It goes on: “Phải chi anh thấu hiểu, rằng em đã yêu anh rất nhiều? / Nói đi anh người ơi giờ anh muốn em phải sống sao.” Translation: “Please understand that I love you very much / Please tell me how do you want me to live now?” Her own life and future are now depending on this son of a bitch. The next two bars go: “Hạnh phúc đâu dễ kiếm tìm, em vẫn đứng đây chờ anh đi tìm / Lúc anh không còn ai hết, hãy ở yên em sẽ đi kiếm.” Happiness is hard to find and she’s waiting for him to find his. When he can’t find anyone else, she is still there for him. So now we’re telling our girls it’s perfectly fine to be the last choice. The last two bars before the chorus: “Bởi em yêu người vô cớ, vì đã lỡ nhận hết đau buồn / Nói đi anh người ơi giờ anh muốn em phải sống sao?” Interpretation: “Because I love you unconditionally and have received all the distressing / Please tell me how do you want me to live?” The hook gets more depressing:

Anh chỉ đến bên em lúc buồn, vậy những ngày vui anh về nơi đâu?
Anh chỉ đến bên em lúc say, vì hết say anh đâu ở đây.
Anh là ai đi qua chốn này? Còn em là ai trong cuộc đời anh đây?
Nói đi anh người ơi vì sao anh nỡ yêu em như vậy.

He only comes to her when he’s sad and she wonders where he could be when he’s happy. He only comes to her when his ass is drunk. When he’s sober he’s not around. Who is he coming and go and who is she in his life? Now tell me if this song is not disturbing, especially for young girls who are not yet mature enough mentally to see something is really wrong with this relationship.

Why am I being so harsh on Minh Tuyết and not the songwriter? The song is rubbish, but she has the power to bring it to their ears and she chose to do so. This is just the opening song of the album. I have no fortitude to go through the 10 remaining tracks. Whether or not she picked these tunes unconsciously, she will continue to make this type of record as long as her fans continue to buy them.

With Danh Việt’s debut, Chẳng Có Tình Ca, composer-producer Quốc Bảo gives the Vietnamese pop scene the middle finger. The title of the album is a hint that he’s fed the fuck up with the current trend: covering old standards to death or making reprehensible pop hits. I don’t blame him.

Make no mistakes. Quốc Bảo is a pop artist at heart. The different is that he makes pop records, not pop hits. The latter goes viral then swiftly disappears. He is not interested in making hits; therefore, he has carved out his own path and it’s working out well for him.

Chẳng Có Tình Ca features seven tracks. They are dead simple, melodic, but not too catchy or heady. Unlike most hits in the pop territory, which grab your attention immediately, they slowly but surely find their ways into your heart and soul the more you listen. Quốc Bảo has mastered the art of simplicity and he understands less is more. Although Danh Việt has a charming baritone and he could easily pour his heart out to ballads, Quốc Bảo demanded that he holds back his delivery for this record. Even on the darkest song, “B’s Blue,” he sings with effortlessness and leaves room for the intoxicating blues guitar solo. In “Đối Thoại Nửa Đêm,” a duet with Dạ Ngân, he kicks off the poignant lines: “Thu nối sang đông để gió / Xin mũi kim may vào lòng.” The conversation between the two sound like the relationship has turned sour rather than painful (like the needle poking through his soul).

Even on the more brighter numbers like “An” and “Em Mở Ra Tình Mới,” Danh Việt never sounded joyful. The former comes off lazy and the latter comes across appreciative. Opposite to “B’s Blue,” which is the longest and most painful track, “Em Mở Ra Tình Mới,” which is the shortest (only 1:41 minutes) and the most cheerful number, indicates that happiness could just be a brief moment. Despite its brevity, the tune reveals Quốc Bảo’s lyricism. His description of a woman is quite unorthodox and yet so beautiful: “Mùa hoa em nở giữa đông / rét thu vai buồn lắm thân / mà vẫn đẹp sao nàng hương u trầm.”

Going against the grain might be a lonesome direction, but Quốc Bảo has proved that he could make it work. His simple musical approach combined with his slightly eccentric lyricism make him one of the very few standout modern musicians in the overcrowded pop market. He deserves the recognitions as well as the paychecks.

With a double-set clocking in at 95 minutes of electronic music, Võ Thiện Thanh really wants you to chill the fuck out. The first album, Hòa Âm Của Đại Ngàn, is not only perfect for Trung Nguyên’s coffee shops, but also fantastic for high-end shopping malls. The exotic instrumental music, which includes drum loops, saxophone, trumpet, Fender Rhodes, electric bass, and several traditional instrumentations, will make the shoppers relax and forget about the price tag. Just shop until they drop. Through sound effects (“Chuông Gió” and “Mưa rừng”), fusion experimentations (“Bình Minh Trên Cao Nguyên”), vocal samplings (“Đêm Hội Cồng Chiêng”), Võ Thiện Thanh proved that he has mastered the art of lounging music. Whether in shopping malls or coffee shops, this album will calm your nerves and melt your soul.

The second album, Rừng Xưa Đã Khép, is much more intriguing. Võ Thiện Thanh takes Trịnh Công Sơn songs out of the intimate settings (thính phòng) and put them into the bars. It’s the impeccable vibe for happy hours, preferably with glasses of Martini. Highlights are the collaboration with Nguyên Thảo. Her sensational alto, accompanied by Võ Thiện Thanh’s serene arrangements, breathes soothing air to familiar songs like “Em Hãy Ngủ Đi,” “Phôi Pha,” “Hạ Trắng,” “Rồi Như Đá Ngây Ngô,” “Hành Hương Trên Đồi Cao,” “Cỏ Xót Xa Đưa,” “Rừng Xưa Đã Khép” and “Tình Xót Xa Vừa.” Although Trịnh’s compositions have been covered to death, Võ Thiện Thanh and Nguyên Thảo have managed to resuscitate them. This album might not be the most inventive reinterpretation of Trinh’s music, but it is definitely the most tranquilizing experimentation of his work yet.

Ngoài giọng hát nồng nàn chín muồi, Lệ Quyên không đem đến cho người yêu nhạc Vũ Thành An nét mới mẻ hay riêng biệt của mình qua những ca khúc “Không Tên.” Có lẽ bởi vì áp lực từ người nhạc sĩ đã yêu cầu cô phải hát chính xác từng giai điệu và lời ca nên cô trình bài những nhạc phẩm như một cái máy photocopy. Luôn cả lối hòa âm của Vĩnh Tâm, Minh Quân, và Minh Hoàng cũng bị hạn chế đi rất nhiều.

Về những ca từ tự tay nhạc sĩ Vũ Thành An chỉnh sửa lại thì là sự vinh hạnh cho Lệ Quyên. Riêng “Bài Không Tên Cuối Cùng” tôi thấy có một mâu thuẩn nhỏ nhưng rất quang trọng. Trong phần điệp khúc của bài có câu: “Này em hỡi / Con đường em đi đó / Con đường em theo đó / Sẽ đưa em sang đâu? Mưa bên chồng, có làm em khóc, có làm em nhớ / Những khi tình còn nồng.” Lời mà nhiều ca sĩ đã hát và người nhạc sĩ cho là sai là: “Những khi mình mặn nồng.” Tôi không biết rỏ ai đã sửa lại lời hát hay Vũ Thành An đã tự đổi lại để tránh né cái ám chỉ trong câu đó.

Theo vốn liếng nông cạn tiếng Việt của tôi, “những khi tình còn nồng” thì chỉ là lúc hai người còn yêu nhau tình cảm dành cho nhau còn nồng. Còn “những khi mình mặn nồng” không đơn giản là chỉ tâm hồn mà luôn cả thể xác. Có lẻ anh muốn gửi gấm lại cho người tình củ của mình những gì đã xẫy ra giữa hai người và chỉ có hai người biết. Mưa bên chồng có làm em nhớ đến những cơn mưa mình mặn nồng đấm đuối bên nhau?

Đây chỉ là sự suy đoán riêng của tôi nhưng khi nhạc sĩ Vũ Thành An phải sửa lại hết toàn bộ lời cho “Bài Không Tên Cuối Cùng” thì tôi thấy sự suy nghỉ đó không phải không đúng. Theo như nhạc sĩ cho biết ông không muốn người tình củ và chồng của cô phải đau buồn về lời lẻ của ông đã viết lúc còn trẻ, thất tình và nóng nảy. Nếu như chỉ đơn giản “những khi tình còn nồng” thì đâu có gì quá lớn lao phải khiến ông sửa lời hết cả bài. Ai mà không có những lúc tâm hồn yêu nồng nàn? Nhưng “những khi mình mặn nồng” thì khác nhiều. Và ông phải sủa lại rằng: “Này em hỡi / Con đường em đi đó / Con đường em theo đó / Đúng đấy em ơi / Nếu chúng mình có thành đôI lứa / Chắc gì ta đã thoát ra đời khổ đau.”

Hồng Hạnh and Thái Hòa return once again with a duet album consist of Trịnh Công Sơn’s songs. Too bad they only sing together on the opening title track, “Tự Tình Khúc” and the closing “Tình Khúc Ơ-Bai.” Thái Hòa’s charming baritone and Hồng Hạnh’s sensuous alto are a perfect complement.

Thái Hòa’s passion and devotion to Trịnh Công Sơn are undeniable. Most of his albums are his own simple, stripped-down rendition of Trinh’s songs. Most of his singings are accompanied by a acoustic picking guitar. His contribution on this album is no different. As a result, his straightforward, faithful delivery gets monotonous and predictable.

On the other hand, Hồng Hạnh brings something fresh to the record. Her rendition of “Cuối Cùng Cho Một Tình Yêu,” which arranged in the bossa nova rhythm, is quite intoxicating. Her orchestrated version of “Tình Yêu Tìm Thấy” is also hypnotizing. Too bad, she only has two solo tracks on the album.

As a whole, Tự Tình Khúc is an enjoyable record from two Trinh’s appreciators and a bonus from Đinh Tiến Dũng whose version of “Tình Sầu” is passible.

Minh Hằng’s sophomore release has seven tracks. The first three are forgettable, slow sugary pops. The forth, “Ngày Anh Đi” (Đổ Hiếu), is a contagious club joint. The beat and the rap (elementary lyrics but dope flow) saved Minh Hằng’s delivery. The fifth, “Yêu Để Em Biết” (Đức Trí), is the best track on the album. The minimal arrangement of guitar and piano gives her sexy but not-so-distinctive vocals a chance to shine. The sixth, “Ký Ức” (Đào Trọng Thịnh), returns to the slow jam with an r&b big beat. “Phải Chăng Em Đã Yêu” (Dương Khác Linh & Hoàng Huy Long) closes out the album with another dance beat that sampled the break from Psy’s “Gentleman.” While the album has some shining moments, it will not last. It took her six years to make it, but a few months for listeners to forget it.