Last Saturday I came back to Lancaster to attend an old buddy’s wedding and to my surprise Phong Le was in the house. He sang, rapped and hosted the reception. He still needed tremendous improvement as a host, but he was quite entertaining as a singer/rapper.

After introducing the bride and the groom family, Phong Le along with the Jam (a local band in Philly) kicked off a dedication to the bride with his own spin on “Nail Nail Nail.” Apparently there were quite a bit of nail owners in the audience. Nail salon is still one of Vietnamese thriving businesses around Lancaster. The guys I used to hang out with are now in the nail industry. Although the song is meant to be positive, it has become some sort of a joke. One can tell the crowd was not too pleased.

Then Phong Le rapped one of his signature tunes “Ghe Map” (Fat Chicks). A quick glance around the room, there were a handful of fat girls in the audience and they weren’t impressed either. I was surprised that no Heineken bottle was flying his way. Lancaster girls were on their best behavior.

Although Phong Le’s rap has yet to impress me, what I really liked about him was that he gave his all. His presence had made my buddy’s wedding very special. I appreciate and thank him for that. I also respect him for the fact that he was not one of those singers who think they are too good to sing at wedding. Fuck them!

So I got through 94 episodes of 70 Years of Vietnamese Ballad (1930 – 2000) produced by Hoai Nam. While the program is informative, Hoai Nam makes so many careless mistakes like introducing Lam Phuong’s “Bai Tango Cho Em” but played Hoang Nguyen’s “Bai Tango Cho Rieng Em” and explaining bolero but played the chacha arrangement in “Tau Dem Nam Cu” performed by Thanh Thuy.

After making his apology he went on to defend how the rhythm is the structure of a song. He stated that a songwriter picked out a rhythm that would best fit for his lyrics; therefore, an arranger or producer should stick to the written rhythm. Making the change in the tempo would consider disrespectful to the songwriter. With that kind of thinking no wonder Vietnamese singers who covered ballad make no attempt in reviving old songs. I rather hear an old song with a creative, innovative makeover than just singing straight from what was written.

While I understand that Hoai Nam has limited resource and budget to produce such a broad program, he should put more efforts into the third segment, which is from 1975 to 2000. From late 1930s up to 1975, he has done a decent job of introducing many Vietnamese songwriters at that time. In the third segment, he reintroduced Tram Tu Thien, Ngo Thuy Mien, Lam Phuong, Anh Bang and Tu Cong Phung and yet never even mentioned Duong Thu who is in my opinion one of the renowned ballad songwriters.

Nevertheless I have to give Hoai Nam the credit for attempting to do quite a daunting task of covering 70 years of Vietnamese music. Listen if you have a chance or if you’re interested in learning about a bit of history about Vietnamese music.

What makes Stacey Kent so damn addictive is that I can enjoy the art of reinterpreation and the craft of enunciation simultaneously. Out of her nine albums, which being shuffled frequently on my iPhone, In Love Again stands out as an exceptional reimagination of Richard Rodgers’ music.

With her fresh approach, relaxed technique and warm intimacy, Kent has managed to escape the shadow of great jazz singers before her like Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday who had put their own signiture on Rodgers’ composition. Kent comes out swinging in such an easy-going manner on “Shall We Dance?” then retreats to late-night sophistication on “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.”

Her mood swings up again on “My Heart Stood Still” and then quickly settles down on the sensational “It Never Entered My Mind.” The rare gem and my personal favorite on the songbook has to be the playful “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair.” She skillfully makes the transition from light swing to dark blues and the quintet, which made up of her husband and tenor saxophonist Jim Tomlinson, guitarist Colin Oxley, pianist Dave Newton, bassist Simon Thorpe and drummer Jasper Kviberg, knows exactly what to do behind her.

While the melodies and the lyrics are familiar, Kent makes them sound new again simply by singing from her heart and soul. In Love Again can be summed up in one line and she has done so flawlessly: “It’s easy to remember, but so hard to forget.”

It’s quite rare to hear an entire Vietnamese album with only original tunes. Quái Vật Tí Hon (Lil’ Monsters) is an experiential rock group that does just that with its debut Đường Về. Yet what makes the album so attractive (even to none-rock listener like myself) is the combination of skillful storytelling and clever incorporation of Vietnamese traditional folks melody into modern rock.

“Vì Đời” is easily one of the highlights from the album, or at least to me, because I can related to the lyrics: “Vợ mình đẹp nhất hành tinh / Người tình đẹp nhất lúc bình minh / Vì đời có tài nên thường linh tinh.” Công Hải, lead vocalist who penned all the lyrics, knows the important of clear communication; therefore, he keeps his singing simple and stays within his raspy range. “Ô Trống” takes me back to my childhood years. I can’t recall the words, but I can hum to the melody.

Minified down to just acoustic strumming guitar, Công Hải pours out his drunken soul on “Vợ Ơi, Anh Sai Rồi.” Elsewhere, “Kẻ Lạ Mặt” recounts an incident in which he walked into his lover making out with a stranger. Đường Về is worth listening even if you aren’t into rock. Then again as much as I find the personal narrative to be engaging, the rock guitar riffs are too much noise for me to return for more.

Nathan Lee has a hush, handsome timbre, but he’s not making the most out of his voice. On M, a Valentine’s special release, his delivery is way too breathy. He needs to learn to control his breathing particularly on ballads. His rendition of “Cơn Mưa Hạ” is weak and lacking of confidence. All I feel is air blowing, not summer rain dropping.

If I were to produce his album, I would make him sing an octave lower, especially on “Dòng Sông Kỷ Niệm.” He should have concentrated more on his lower notes and not exceeded the mid range. His version of “Khi Người Yêu Tôi Khóc” would have been much more hipnotizing if he sang it in the bass tone.

I know I shouldn’t be so tough on the kid. For crying out loud, he’s making a Valentine’s special album. I am not sure if I would even recommend this album for Valentine’s Day, unless your love life is filled with “Tàn Tro,” “Tan Tác,” “Xa Em Kỷ Niệm,” and “Ngàn Năm Vẫn Đợi.” Sounds more like a heartbreak to me.

Listening to Ngoc Khue’s Ben Bo Ao Nha Minh on my way to work gives me nostalgia and makes me realize that I haven’t heard a Vietnamese groundbreaking album like this in ages. Out of all the singing contests in Vietnam, Sao Mai Diem Hen 2004 introduced two rare talents up to date: Tung Duong and Ngoc Khue.

Nowadays singing competitions only produced pop singers with grand voice but no vision. Vietnam Idol 2010 Uyen Linh shook up the Vietnamese pop scene. She became an instant phenomenon and yet her new release Giac Mo Toi under producer Quoc Trung’s direction is a disappointment. Rather than taking her far out, Quoc Trung constraints her with pop-rock template. In a year making, he only produced seven tracks for the album and six of them were rerecorded from the contest. The arrangement of “Chi La Giac Mo” takes away the rawness she performed on stage accompanied by simple strumming guitar. Her version of “Sao Chang Ve Voi Em” immediately brings Hong Nhung’s to mind. Her English on Al Green’s “Take Me To The River” is decent, but she hasn’t quite mastered the language’s nuances.

Luong Viet Quang won the people’s vote in Sao Mai Diem Hen 2010 and released his debut titled Can Ban (Basic) under the direction of My Tam. Recognizing his likable voice, My Tam picked out pop ballads like “Dem Nam Mo Pho,” “Boi The Ta Yeu Nhau” and “Doc Thoai.” The minimal, elegant arrangements allow Luong Viet Quang to sing right on the melodies. It makes perfect sense why the album is called Can Ban. Let’s hope that Luong Viet Quang will break out of the basic training in his next release, but I highly doubt it.

First few listens of Gretchen Parlato’s The Lost and Found didn’t quite sink in. Parlato has a tiny, breathy, whispery, slurry voice and the music is all over the place ranging from r&b to pop to post-bop. Paying closed attention, however, the album is a rare gem. Parlato isn’t just a singer. She uses her voice as an instrument to engage with her vigorous rhythm section, which made up of pianist Taylor Eigsti, bassist Derrick Hodge and drummer Kendrick Scott. On the hypnotic reinterpretation of Wayne Shorter’s “Juju,” her voice floats like ghost passing through glass alongside tenor saxaphonist Dayna Stephens. On Lauryn Hill’s “All That I Can Say,” she rides the groovy r&b beat with grace and effortlessness. With poetic lyrics, beautiful melody and sleek beat, her original “Still,” co-written and duet with guitarist Alan Hampton, is no less impressive. The Lost and Found showcases not only Parlato’s stylistic versatility, but also her ethearal sensibility.

“Confessions to My Daughter,” an opening track on When the Heart Emerges Glistening, kicks off with Ambrose Akinmusire’s mesmerizing, naked trumpet intro then teamed up with tenor saxophonist Walter Smith III for a hypnotic dual backing up by pianist Gerald Clayton, bassist Harish Raghavan and drummer Justin Brown. On “The Walls of Lechuguilla,” Akinmusire once again plays a very intriquing unaccompanied intro switching between high and low notes and speeding into a post-bop thrills. As the apt title suggested, Akinmusire’s heart emerges glistening on all but one of his original compositions. With a promising debut, Akinmusire is the up and coming new trumpeter to keep an ear on.

By now, fourth album into their career, the Puppini Sisters are no longer an act of novelty, but that’s not a problem at all. They still have a few tricks under their sleeves. They swing the hell out of “I Got Rhythm” and get real hoedown on “Get Happy.” Hollywood opens with the sisters’ up-tempo original title track, then take listeners back to good old show-stopping hits (and a few misses) and then closes out with “Parle Plus Bas,” a playful French version of the theme from The Godfather.

1. Trang Nhung – Son. Trang Nhung crafted a superb contemporary folks record with great song choices, vocals and arrangements.
2. Lê Cát Trọng Lý. Ms. Le’s self-titled debut showcases her songwriting skills, guitar chops and singing talent.
3. Công Lâm – Chàng Trai Việt. Backup by strong orchestration, Công Lâm shows what it takes to be a Vietnamese man through his charming, authoritative tenor.
4. Ngọc Quy – Hồn Có Mơ Xa. With Ngọc Quy’s fine baritone, classiness and warm intimacy, this album is perfect for late-night relaxation.
5. Hiền Thục – Thiên Sứ. With effortless flow, classy arrangements and the ability to dig deeper into the lyrics, Hiền Thục has found her own voice in Trịnh Công Sơn music.
6. Ánh Tuyết Hát Trịnh Công Sơn. Ánh Tuyết interprets Trịnh Công Sơn music with her lower alto rather than her soprano. The result is mesmerizing.
7. Quang Tuấn – Chiều Vàng. Even though the album is on the safe side, Quang Tuấn delivers the songs as perfect as the way they were written.
8. Quốc Khanh & Đan Nguyên – Nhớ Mẹ. Two sons of the veteran who shared the same asperation brings some freshness to Vietnam war tunes.
9. Nguyễn Hồng Nhung – Dường Như. Nguyễn Hồng Nhung delivers classic ballads with soulfulness and tastefulness, but lacked the uniqueness. The strength of the album, however, is from new tunes like “Duong Nhu” and “Nghiet Nga.”
10. Đàm Vĩnh Hưng – Anh Còn Nợ Em. Đàm Vĩnh Hưng returns to his syrupy signature that once made him popular.