Raymond’s Toys & Music, which locates inside Hoa Binh Plaza in Philadelphia, is one of my favorite shops for Vietnamese music. I used to kill time in the store while waiting for my mom doing her grocery in the nearby supermarket. Yesterday I went back for the first time in many years and the place hasn’t changed much. Outside the door, I was greeted with two tables of CDs ranging from trendy pop to Vietnamese opera for as low as $2.50 a pop and a small-screen TV playing Cambodian music video. Paris By Night 102 was blasting inside on a huge flat-screen TV.

What I love about the place is that I could find some original classics for a cheap price. I discovered Peter Zak’s Purple Refrain in the bargain pile for $3 or something. I didn’t know who Peter Zak was, but Purple Refrain was an instant love and has been my favorite Vietnamese jazz album of all time. I could have paid $20 for this album and it is still worth the price. I also found out about Thien Phuong through Tro Ve Mai Nha Xua in this store (though not at a bargain table).

Yesterday I dug through its jungle of CDs and came across Thanh Ha’s Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong. The back cover doesn’t give any credit to the musicians so I didn’t know what to expect, but Thanh Ha sings Trinh’s music for $5 is definitely a bargain. The three-hour drive from Philly to Fairfax was just awesome thanks to the incredible arrangements and Thanh Ha’s sensational delivery. As soon as I got home, I opened up the album sleeve and bam, Duc Tri was the man behind the project. Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong released in 2004 and yet I haven’t heard of it until now. I should have kicked my own ass for this, but it’s better late than never.

Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong puts her recent albums, Chia Khoa Tinh Yeu and The Evolution of Thanh Ha, to shame. The title track is marvelous thanks to Luan Vu’s lush violin and Duc Tri’s luscious keyboard accompanying Thanh Ha’s sexy voice. “Roi Nhu Da Ngay Ngo” kicks off with Nguyen Khang’s smoky intro and Thanh Ha rides the bossa-nova flavor as smooth as CSL-class Benz. Likewise, her bluesy version of “Rung Xua Da Khep” is intoxicating. Love the way she maneuvers her way around the walking bass.

The whole joint is a tight set track for track with no wasted space and no filler. The atmospheric vibe on the exceptional album-closer “Tien Thoai Luong Nan” makes you wish that Thanh Ha would bring back the classic good taste and fuck Evolution.

So he’s back. The clown that brought to you the hilarious cai luong-rap “Lay Tien Cho Gai.” With his new release Ghe Khung, Phong Le has yet to step out of his comical role as a Viet MC (his collaboration with Bao Liem on “Giang Ho” is the proof), but he has definitely stepped up his game in term of flow and beat choices.

The title track is one of his story-telling sillinesses that allows him to break into the Vietnamese audience. Like most rappers, Phong Le’s subject matters wrap around girl, sex and fame. In “Den Voi Anh” (featuring Huy Vu on Auto-Tune), Phong rhymes in a horny-little-boy voice: “Ba ma anh khong co o nha thi minh tha ho ma huong / Neu em khong muon thi minh nam coi phim chuong / Roi sao do anh se lam cho em suong.”

The smartest moment in the album is actually when he’s not rapping. How ironic? “Ho Phu Sinh Ho Tu” is a skit between Phong and his dad. While the old man tried to teach his son not to smoke, he lighted up a cigarette. His reason for smoking was the depression from the war. Phong responded, “The war had ended 30 years ago.”

The hardest track on the album is “Tro Lai.” The dual language works rather well with Chosen holding down the English part. In his raspy voice, Chosen raps, “I am on a higher level while you sing your falsetto.” It almost sounds like a diss to his own partner on the same track, but that’s just me. Then again, I find Ghe Khung to be quite entertaining for a spin or two.

Le Cat Trong Ly and Esperanza Spalding share some similar characteristics: they are young and talented; they play a string instrument; they write and sing their original songs; they have their own musical style; best of all, they both rock out a pretty awesome perm. While Ms. Spalding leads her own path to breakout jazz and soul, Ms. Le carves out her own niche away from the mediocre Vietnamese pop scene.

Ms. Le’s self-titled debut begins with “Giac Mong Lon” that immediately sets her apart from the over-saturated pop singers in and out of Viet Nam. The lyrics are simple but thoughtful. The music is kept to the minimal with just an acoustic guitar from Cao Hong Ha and elegant keyboard from Vu Dang Quoc Viet. The interaction between these two young instrumentalists is quite alluring. Love the way Vu Dang comps behind Ms. Le’s sweet, luscious vocals.

“Mua Yeu” is a straightforward but playful piece written when she was 19, at the age she claims that she didn’t know anything about composing music, but loved Mozart and Pham Duy. “Huong Lac” (based on Tram Huong’s poem) is another tune composed in the same time that showcases Ms. Le’s love for northern folk melodies and her guitar-picking skills.

Composed at 22, “Chuyen Xe” shows the maturity in her writing. Right after the closing bars, “Biết em thôi những giấc mơ ngày xưa, ngày nay, ngày mai, ngày sau / Có khi là em chết hơn trăm lần,” Ms. Le glides into her intoxicating blues chords and picks away some soulful guitar lines on the upper register. This girl got some serious chops and let’s hope that she continues to move forward rather than getting sucked into the whirlwind of mainstream pop like Thuy Tien.

In 2009, Hien Thuc released Portrait 17, a Trinh Cong Son’s songbook. With fancy electric beats and slick r & b flavors, the album showed that Hien Thuc lacked the experience to take Trinh’s music to its fullest. Her new Trinh’s release, Thien Su, however, marks a sea change.

What a tremendous improvement in just two years. Hien Thuc has learned the essence of simplicity and the art of phrasing Trinh’s lyrics. On “Vuon Xua,” she sings with just an acoustic strumming guitar courtesy of Tran Thanh Phuong. The spared, intimate accompaniment allows her to articulate Trinh’s words. “Ru Doi Da Mat” is another excellent track with minimal orchestration. The superb arrangement provides her the space to pour out her heart without hitting the high register.

“Goi Ten Bon Mua” is one of Trinh’s most covered tunes, but the new-age mix makes Hien Thuc’s version stands out. The blending of sixteen-stringed zither (dan tranh) melodic lines and subtle electric rhythm is so damn irresistible. The producer also weaved some traditional folk chords into the break. Arranger Huyen Trung has quite an ear for exotic sounds and lush strings. “De Gio Cuon Di” has an elegant, tasteful classical orchestration and the track would have been even better if she had performed the song solo rather than with Duc Tuan.

With effortless flow, classy arrangements and the ability to dig deeper into the lyrics, Hien Thuc has found her own voice in Trinh’s music rather than a duplication of Khanh Ly, Trinh Vinh Trinh or Hong Nhung. She definitely is bringing a fresh new air to the Trinh’s timeless tunes. If there is one thing Hien Thuc can to improve, it has to be her breath control.

Quynh Hoa’s latest release, Romance, is thankfully not an English album sung by a heavily accented Vietnamese singer. The title suggests the romantic vibe of Ha Noi since most tracks, including Tran Tien’s “Ha Noi Ngay Ay,” Nguyen Vinh Tien’s “Thu Ha Noi” and “Cafe Ha Noi,” were written about the city.

Romance kicks off with Nguyen Cuong’s “Vuon Em Dem Qua No Mot Canh Mai.” The track begins with a few hypnotic electric bass lines then follows by sweet, melodic Vietnamese flute. As soon as Quynh Hoa’s sultry, smoky contralto joins in, you know you’re in for a fantastic ride. Tran Tien’s “Ha Noi Ngay Ay” gets a gorgeous electric makeover complemented with savory keyboard touches and sensuous saxophone licks. What makes the track stands out is Quynh Hoa’s effortless delivery no matter how fancy the arrangement gets. Her low notes in particular are so damn seductive, noticeably on the piano-only accompaniment of Nguyen Vinh Tien’s “Thu Ha Noi.”

The spellbind breaks when she tries to tough up her pipe on Nguyen Cuong’s “Bien Dau Buon Den The.” Her flow is stilted and her vocals are rough as if she wanted to sound like a badass. The good thing is that she pulls back on Nguyen Vinh Tien’s “Ha Noi Cafe” and curls her phrasing like smoke around the strumming acoustic guitar. The album closes out with a striking orchestration of contemporary folks on Nguyen Cuong’s “Ho Bien.”

Romance is a much needed change in the endless repetition and unimaginative direction of the current Vietnamese pop scene. Mad props to Minh Dao for some fresh arrangements as well.

Melancholy Baby shows that Jaimee Paul has got the blues. “I want a little sugar in my bowl / I want a little sweetness down in my soul,” Ms Paul whips out her bluesy pipes, intoxicating phrasing and turns Nina Simon’s classic into her own. Her version of Cy Coleman and Dorothy Fields’s “Big Spender” puts the Pussycat Dolls to shame with her sultry, shouting blues. She also puts her own spin on Bill Wither’s “Ain’t No Sunshine” and reinvigorated U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” with a hypnotizing, bossa-nova flavor. With Beegie Adair’s tender, delicate touch on the piano, Ms gives me melancholy too on the title track.

Lupe Fiasco is a conscious rapper who is unfortunately running out of consciousness in his latest release Lasers. Instead of focusing on his lyrical skills, his strongest assets, Lupe lets r & b hooks, Auto-Tune and dance beats take over his rhymes. Lupe is at his best when he speaks his mind like on the brilliant “Words I Never Said,” in which he criticizes: “Limbaugh is a racist, Glenn Beck is a racist / Gaza strip was getting bombed, Obama didn’t say shit.” Too bad, Lupe spends too much time trying to speak to the radio and the clubs.

As if Mai Thanh Son, Doan Phi, Tuong Nguyen, Tuong Khue and Cardin aren’t wimpy enough, Asia Entertainment added Le Anh Quan, another baby-boy voice, to its male roster. His debut Mot Giay Phut Thoi is a typical Asia’s cookie cutter. Le Anh Quan covers Asia’s songs that have been sung to death like Truc Ho’s “Con Mua Ha” and “Neu Khong Co Em,” Vu Tuan Duc’s “Tinh Da Vut Bay” and “Trang Ua Sao Mo,” and Sy Dan’s “Ngay Vui Nam Ay.” Vocally and instrumentally, none of these tracks stands out. Le Anh Quan’s weak voice and static delivery bring nothing new to the unimaginative productions. Come on Truc Ho, slow down, put some effort into your work and stop releasing these dreadful music.

With Evolution, sexy singer Thanh Ha attempts to get her groove back. No crime in that. Even a MILF needs rejuvenation. Like what Y Van had suggested in “60 Nam Cuoi Doi,” life only lasts 60 years so you might as well make the most out of it. Thanh Ha gives Y Van’s classic a fresh makeover thanks to Roland Casiquin for the up-tempo, rock-up beat.

While some of the productions are superb, the song selection is all over the place. Most tunes are translated and Casiquin can’t seem to help himself from injecting annoying ad-libs and nursery rhymes into the tracks. The jump-off “Diep Khuc Mua Xuan” (written by Quoc Dung) wouldn’t be so irritating if he keeps the machine voices out of the tune. Likewise the little Auto-Tune singing-rapping on Van Phuong’s “Tinh Yeu” is exasperating: “Girl you’re the one / You’re my love / You’re my medicine / When it comes to [love?] makes you the veteran.” These Vietlish tracks, particularly “Nobody But You,” make Thanh Ha sounds like she desperately trying to be hip just like the suit she can’t pull off on the album cover.

“Tinh Voi” (a translated tune) starts off with such a sleepy bossa-nova that Casiquin has to rock it up in order to keep listeners from dozing off. From r & b to dance pop to rock to smooth jazz to soul to rap, the album should have been titled The Evolution of Thanh Ha’s Sandwich.

As someone who follows Ngoc Anh’s career for many years, I didn’t think she could make a bad record if she wanted to. Even under Thuy Nga’s poppy direction, she managed to cut some exceptional tracks with Giet Nguoi Trong Mong and gained a wider audience who only knew her after she appeared on Paris By Night.

Her follow-up release, Ta Tinh, however, proves me wrong. As Thuy Nga pushes Ngoc Anh deeper into the pop hole, she can’t save herself from sinking into the god-aweful productions. Her rendition of Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Nua Hon Thuong Dau” is one of the most tasteless covers I have heard. The bouncy arrangement takes the soul and the lyricism right out of the song. Intead of “Nham mat cho toi tim mot thoang huong xua,” the beat gets on your nerve if you close your eyes.

Ngoc Anh and Bang Kieu’s duet on Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Rieng Mot Goc Troi” is much worse than on Do Le’s “Sang Ngang.” The track sounds like two chicks and a horrendous soprano sax battling out for their own turf. Other than the excellent, heart-rending version of Pham Duy’s “Mua Thu Chet,” Ta Tinh is mediocre at best.

From skin-baring album cover to artifical, soupy hits including Le Xuan Truong’s translated “Cuoi Cung La Hu Vo,” Ngoc Trong’s “Sau Vuong Khoi May” and Hai Nguyen “Em Hay Ve Di,” it’s sad to see such a phenomenal artist getting sucked into Thuy Nga’s money-making machine. With Ta Tinh, Ngoc Anh is selling out her soul more than trying to reach the young listeners.