In its jazz-syncopated reinterpretation of Igor Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring,” The Bad Plus created some of the wildest, oddest and most imaginative musical interactions between virtuosic piano (Ethan Iverson), propulsive bass (Reid Anderson) and chaotic drums (Dave King). The new sound might not sits well with pure classical heads, but it’s fascinating and adventurous for an open ear.
The collaboration between Miles Davis and Marcus Miller started with the controversial but remarkable Tutu. The album has that lazy-lightweight-80s-pop-fusion sound on the surface, but underneath Miles played dark, piercing, muted trumpet that made the heavy impact.
Their joint effort continued for the soundtrack of Siesta. Even though the orchestration is much less intricacy than what Gil Evans had arranged for Sketches of Spain, the album featured some mesmerizing Latin groove and fine duets between Mile’s trumpet and Miller’s bass clarinet.
Amandla marked the final collaboration between the two. Whereas Tutu laid down the foundation, Amandla took it further. The compositions were richer and Miles’s playing were fuller. He even blew without a muted device on “Mr. Pastorius.” It sounds such a damn pleasure to hear Miles played jazz again after all these years.
I have been revisiting Miles Davis’s early work and loving his fine-ass ballad playing. Here are a few albums I am enjoying.
This album kicks off with the heart-rending rendition of “It Never Entered My Mind.” Miles played the mute trumpet as if he’s about to cry. “In Your Own Sweet Way” is another sensational standard with the Miles touch.
Miles played a few bebop numbers including “Salt Peanuts” and “Well, You Needn’t,” in which he sounded less confidence than the ballads “When I Fall In Love” and “Something I Dreamed Last Night.”
Relaxing to some mid-tempos like “If I Were A Bell” and “If I Could Write A Book,” but the beautiful ballad is “You’re My Everything,” in which Miles told Garland to play some block chords.
Miles’s take on “‘Round About Midnight” didn’t sit well with Monk, but it was his admission to Columbia record. His muted tone cuts straight to the emotional core.
This is a Cannonball Adderley’s album, but Miles stole the spotlight on “Autumn Leaves.” This is one of the finest ballad-playings period.
Miles plays with title track without the muting device and his lyricism was still impressive. “All of You,” “Stella by Starlight,” and “I Thought About You” were beautifully played from the all-star band.
Hồ Hoàng Yến is like a bird trapped in Asia’s cage. She can’t escape the production’s unimaginative direction even though she has so much potentials. Her third release, Dù Tình Yêu Đã Mất, is just another cover of ballads with recycled arrangements. From the opening title track to the closing “Yêu,” she interprets these standards like a copy machine. She sings right off the page and never deviates from the melodies. They are not bad by any means. They are just boring. It’s sad to witness such a sensuous of a voice being wasted. Fortunately, it is still not too later for her to break away from Asia and to take on a more challenging moves with her music career. If she keeps heading down this same path, however, she’ll be soon forgotten.
In his previous Cánh Diều Lạc Phố, Nguyễn Đình Thanh Tâm was under the influence of Tùng Dương. In his new release, Gặp Tôi Mùa Rất Đông, Thanh Tâm has completely stepped out of his idol’s shadow by putting a restrain on his vocals and making pointless dance music that Tùng Dương would never record.
After almost two and a half minutes of an unnecessary intro, the title track, which written by Mew Amazing, begins with an atmospheric backdrop and then progressed into some inaudible rapping. “Nghe Ta Hồi Sinh” (music by Đỗ Hiếu and lyrics by Thanh Tâm) picks up the club beat with annoying ad-lib in the background. Then the catchy “Liêu Trai” (Nguyễn Hải Phong) makes you want to register for a Zumba class. Đỗ Hiếu’s production is infectious.
Still, highlights of the album are the none-dance tracks like the electric excellent “Bóng Tối.” The dark, hunting vibe brings to mind the Chemical Brothers. The second version of the title track is also way better than the first. The orchestration, which includes guitar, zither and strings, is astonishing. With only seven track on the album, Thanh Tâm should have concentrated on electric music instead of dance shit. It’s a missed opportunity.
Bằng Kiều and Minh Tuyết aren’t just pop singers. They are pop savvies. Their latest collaborative effort, Lâu Đài Tình Ái, is the proof once again that they know exactly what their fans want and they deliver just the way their fans desired. They don’t challenge their listeners and they ruffle no feathers.
Like most new releases coming from Thúy Nga production, Lâu Đài Tình Ái is an album filled with old popular ballads. Both Bằng Kiều and Minh Tuyết are on-the-page vocalists; therefore, they bring nothing new to these new tunes. In fact, they stay as faithful to the written melodies as they could. The result is safe but sincere. For instance, Minh Tuyết’s solo rendition of “Đừng Xa Em Đêm Nay” (Đức Huy) is the only cover that comes closest to Thảo My’s original. While her vocal delivery is straightforward, Đồng Sơn’s elegant Latin arrangement makes the tune sounds fresh.
As for Bằng Kiều’s solo performance, his take on “Nha Trang Ngày Về” (Phạm Duy) is reflective and nostalgic. In addition to Tùng Châu’s simple, sensational arrangement, what made this version works is that Bằng Kiều has restraint himself from belting out his falsetto. I was expecting to hear him wailing out on the last bar, but thankfully he ended the song in the low register.
Out of their four duets, “Tình Bơ Vơ” (Lam Phương) stands out. Their vocal deliveries are what fans from both camp would anticipate. What new is that Tùng Châu gives the song a Latin rhythm with sprinkle of bluesy keyboard licks. Without a doubt, the productions make Lâu Đài Tình Ái enjoyable for at least one or two listens.
My boys are fascinated with trains. Dao loves trains when he was about one. He also has a huge influence on his younger brother and cousin. From The Polar Express to The Little Engine That Could to Thomas & Friends to Chuggington, the three of them could watch train movies all day day long. One of the songs that played the most in our minivan during Christmas travel was “The North Pole Express” by Nick Lowe. Seeing them loved that song so much, I came up with the idea of pulling together a jazz train collection for them to get them to listen to jazz. Last night, I came up with about forty songs in my collection and the one song that has been covered the most was Duke Ellington’s “Take the ‘A’ Train.” I narrowed down to just ten and the requirement had to be fun for the kids to enjoy. So here’s my final list:
Hoàng Quyên has a big pipe and a slight raspy timbre. In fact, her voice has a reminiscent of the youthful Thanh Lam’s without vibrato issues. Her rendition of “Em và Đêm” and “Có Đôi” off her debut Cửa Thơm Mùi Nắng, a collaboration with her mentor Lê Minh Sơn, makes you miss the efflorescent Thanh Lam back in the old days. Her phrasing, particularly on the high register, is so much lighter comparing to Thanh Lam’s. Even though vibrato is applied in big notes, she uses them with care and control.
Highlight of the album is the opening “Ngày Em Ra Đời.” The tune, which produced by Lê Minh Sơn himself, has a sensational swing with hypnotic walking bass and Miles-inspired muted trumpet. Another standout number is “À Í A.” Accompanied by Trần Mạnh Hùng’s elegant classical piano, Hoàng Quyên brings out the emotional essence without being operatic like Trọng Tấn.
“Gió Mùa Về,” on the other hand, falls short on range and dynamic. Her version, which has a new rock-up production, is flat comparing to Ngọc Khuê’s contemporary folk-jazz take. In addition, Ngọc Khuê added so much playfulness—pushing her vocals to an uncomfortably high level and pulling back to child-like talking—into her delivery that it would be hard to match.
Nevertheless, Cửa Thơm Mùi Nắng is a strong, solid debut. She can’t go wrong under Lê Minh Sơn’s guidance and Trần Mạnh Hùng’s arrangements. The album, however, doesn’t define the true Hoàng Quyên other than the younger version of Tham Lam. Nothing’s wrong with that. Madeleine Peyroux started out sounding like Billie Holiday, but found her true self as she became mature. Let’s hope that Hoàng Quyên will discover her own voice as well.
Is Thuở Ấy Có Jazz jazz? The album kicks off with a swing cover of Văn Phụng’s “Tôi Đi Giữa Hoàng Hôn.” Tuyết Loan sings the melody straight on. The rhythm section, made up of Vũ Trọng Hiếu (piano), Thanh Tân (guitar bass), Kiên Hoài (drum) and Hoàng Loan (guitar), comes out swinging and then switching to bossa nova for a novelty ending. Lê Tấn Quốc plays a brief saxophone solo on the break.
Throughout the record, Tuyết Loan who has a coarse contralto delivers well-loved ballads including “Cho Em Quên Tuổi Ngọc” (Lam Phương), “Chuyển Bến” (Đoàn Chuẩn and Từ Linh) and “Ai Về Sông Tương” (Thông Đạt), as they were written. Her flows are rigid and she lands perfectly on every beat. She never pushes her phrasings. She doesn’t play around with time and syncopation. With such a recognizable repertoire, she could have abandon the familiar melodies and reinvent something new. Heck, she could have thrown in some scat phrases or sung behind the beat. The only rule in jazz is to sing or play something not there. With “Huyền Thoại Người Con Gái” (Lê Hựu Hà), she could have challenged the band in double time and the outcome could have been more spontaneous.
The only track that comes close to jazz is “Thuở Ấy Có Em” (Huỳnh Anh). Except for Tuyết Loan, each band member gets a brief solo. I wish more songs were approached this way or even stretch out longer. Since improvisation is so sparse, Thuở Ấy Có Jazz could only be a pop-jazz record, an enjoyable one.
The best part of Thanh Lam and Tùng Dương’s new release, Yêu, is the spellbinding orchestral work. Lê Phi Phi’s elegant, captivating arrangements, which lift the vocalists to a higher level, stand out by themselves. In fact, I hope they would release an instrumental version of this album for pure classical pleasure. In particular the magnificent orchestration of Phạm Duy’s “Kiếp Nào Có Yêu Nhau.”
Vocal wise, Tùng Dương has done an exceptional job of delivering Nguyễn Văn Túy’s “Dư Âm” and Phạm Duy’s “Ngậm Ngùi.” His phrasing is at the borderline between technical and emotional, noticeably the use of vibrato in “Dư Âm.” Although the technique is an obvious influence from Thanh Lam, he knows not to abuse it. As a result, he is still listenable.
On the other hand, Thanh Lam’s overuse of vibrato is irritating. In Cung Tiến’s “Hoài Cảm,” she applies the technique in every bar. I must admit that I have this issue with her for the past few years already and can’t seem to get past it. I am starting to wonder it might just be me being an asshole about it; therefore, I revisited some of her earlier works to see if I am just hearing things. Re-listening to both Tự Sự and Ru Mãi Ngàn Năm confirmed that she treated vibrato with subtlety and her phrasings were clean. She ended each bar without extra emphatic. The precision in her delivery not only made her a strong vocalist, but also a woman with authority. She didn’t fuck around.
Now the excessive sentimentalisms in her delivery make her sound whinny, uncertain and fabricated. Nguyễn Ánh 9 was spot on when he criticized her performance of “Cô Đơn” as a theatrical act more than conveying the lyrics. Even though she pulls herself back on this version, she didn’t go not far enough, especially on the high notes. I wish she could strip all that out and refocus on the emotional core once again.
Aside from the technical annoyances, Yêu is a solid record. Their duets on Phạm Duy’s “Kiếp Nào Có Yêu Nhau,” Cung Tiến’s “Hương Xưa” and Văn Phụng’s “Yêu” are compelling. Tùng Dương turns out to be a much better musical partner for Thanh Lam than Trọng Tấn and Đàm Vĩnh Hưng.