The Prince of Darkness cast his dark, mysterious spell on the compelling soundtrack of Louis Malle’s Ascenseur Pour L’Echafaud (Lift to the Scaffold). Backing up by drummer Kenny Clarke and solid French jazzmen, Miles improvised as the film being showed on screen. “Dîner Au Motel” displayed Mile’s exceptional, hard-swing bebop licks on muted trumpet, but the real deals are the slow, sensual scores, like “Générique,” that were perfect for film noir’s mood. Check out this scene.

Backing up by the Big Band Song Hong, saxophonist Quyen Van Minh and his friends gave Vietnamese ballads a jazz flavor. Mr. Quyen is obviously from the school of moldy figs. His approach to jazz is drawn from the swing era.

The Jazz With Vietnamese Lyric concert kicked off with Tran Tien’s “Thanh Pho Tre,” a catchy swing tune that is played straight on the melody. In fact, most tunes, including Anh Viet’s “Lo Chien Do,” Anh Viet’s “Ve Que” and Trong Dai’s “Ha Noi Dem Tro Gio,” are played in a very tight structure with only a chorus or a few bars of improvisation. Trumpet Hoang Xuan Vuong gave an achingly gorgeous reading of Trinh Cong Son’s “Mot Coi Di Ve,” but I wish he wasn’t married to Trinh’s melody and just pimped out sort of like what Coleman Hawkins did with “Body and Soul.” Hawkins assumed that everyone was familiar with the melody so he just improvised the entire tune without directly playing on the melody. I am sure everyone knows “Mot Coi Di Ve” by heart.

My biggest issue with the Big Band was way too many saxophones in the orchestra. A bunching of horns backing up a saxophone was very jarring. On Trinh Cong Son’s “Cat Bui,” Mr. Quyen stripped out the rhythm section and with only the saxes accompanying him, he turned the ballad into a funeral ode that was a fitting tribute to the great late Trinh Cong Son. The only time that the sax section worked was on Nguyen Cuong’s “H’zen Len Ray,” in which the saxes created a beautiful call-and-response effect with the trumpet.

One of my personal favorites was the piano-saxophone duet of Trinh Cong Son’s “Phoi Pha.” Accompanied by Dang Khang Nhi’s jazz-classical piano, Mr. Quyen played a soulful ballad with his own emotional solo. As beautiful as the song was, I couldn’t get over the erroneous introduction he made before he started to play. Mr. Quyen pointed out that jazz was born from black people, but jazz has to be combined with white’s wisdom to create jazz today. Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Charles Mingus and especially Miles Davis would roll over their grave if they heard his statement.

In my review of Trinh Hoang Hai’s previous release, Bien Hat, I mused on his vibrato: “[H]e sings like a man in constipation trying to push and pull his way through.” Mr. Trinh took my criticism and put it to work on his new Trinh Cong Son songbook, Bien Oi. The result is much more pleasurable even though he hasn’t abandoned the technique entirely.

The album starts off with “Ru Doi Di Nhe” in which Mr. Trinh accompanying himself with an acoustic guitar. Right off the opening notes, he tries to control his vibrato, but like he has admitted, “I found to be hard to stray away from my poor habit.” On “Mot Coi Di Ve,” one can hear that he worries too much about techniques. He begins with “Bao nhieu nam roi con mai ra di” and without a pause he picks up “Di dau loanh quanh cho doi moi met.” Beside Tuan Ngoc, not too many Vietnamese singers could pull that off. He doesn’t need to though. He just needs to take his time and rest as long as he pleases because the empty space is as important as the singing notes. After all, Trinh Cong Son’s music encourages singers and listeners to reach deep inside his lyricism. On the Zen-like “Toi Dang Lang Nghe” for example, Mr. Trinh should slow down his phrasing, focus on the words, listen to his surroundings in order to feel the stillness of life.

I am in no way of indicating that Mr. Trinh doesn’t soak up Trinh Cong Son’s lyrics. In fact, it is quite the opposite and he should have use his experience toward his advantage. “Xin Tra No Nguoi” and “Cat Bui” are the two tracks that he means the words he sings. Unlike Tuan Ngoc’s above-octave version of “Xin Tra No Nguoi,” Mr. Trinh stays in his comfortable range and just lets his throaty voice reveal the emotional depth. The texture in his voice and the effortlessness in his delivery bring out the fate in “Cat Bui.”

Except for the opening track, Dang Khoa is responsible for the arrangements. On the title track he combines Vietnamese instruments with semi-classical orchestration, but not too effective. Other than some nice bluesy notes on “Mot Coi Di Ve,” but nothing stands out. The new age vibe doesn’t blend too well with “Loi Buon Thanh.” Trinh Cong Son’s compositions are best kept simple and intimate.

Come on, Mr. Dam! I beg you to please give the old tunes a break. You’re sacrilegiously killing them. Your latest release Nhung Bai Ca Khong Quen is a double-disc full of fuck-up covers backing up by cheap productions.

You simply destroy “Hue, Tinh Yeu Cua Toi” with your fake-ass Hue’s accent. Bao Yen should kick your balls with her high heels for murdering her gorgeous “Chieu Ha Vang.” With all the money you have been making, you should spare some for the arrangement instead of wasting them on all that brand name clothes that make you look even more ridiculous. Most of the slow ballads are driven by programmed drums and irritating smooth saxophone lines. The mid-tempo production on “Loi To Tinh Mua Xua” is even worse. It’s the laziest groove I have heard.

Come to think of it, you simply don’t have an ear for beats. Your productions have been the same in all of your albums. The timeless tunes are indeed unforgettable, but your versions are immediately forgettable.

I told my wife that Lam Thuy Van was once my dream girl and her response was, “Wasn’t she every men dream girl?” True that, true that. Every man who listened to Vietnamese music probably drooled over Lam Thuy Van at one point during the 90s. Lam Thuy Van was young, sexy and at the top of her game.

With her new release, Trai Cam Tinh Yeu, Lam Thuy Van tries to return to that peak period. As a result, the album sounds dated with covers like “Xa Em Ky Niem,” “Em Se Den” and “Thoi The Minh Chia Tay.” While Lam Thuy Van’s vocals haven’t deteriorated much, her selected materials have been abused by countless of singers and she is not doing anything to give them a new life. In fact, her singing is very relaxing as if she has picked up Ngoc Lan’s approach.

Lam Thuy Van has been associated with Ngoc Lan and more than half of the tunes on Trai Cam Tinh Yeu remind me of the great late Ngoc Lan. The strongest influence are on “Chang,” “Troi Con Lam Mua Mai,” “Tan Tro” and “Dung Pha Vo An Tinh.” The arrangement of “Dung Pha Vo An Tinh” in particular sounds awfully familiar as if it has been produced for Ngoc Lan. Techniques wise, Ngoc Lan had a much better breath control than Lam Thuy Van.

The intention behind the release of Trai Cam Tinh Yeu is unclear. The album sounded as if it has been recorded fifteen years ago. In fact, it would have been a phenomenal pop album at that time. As for the current time, it seems like Asia and Lam Thuy Van are trying to scoop up Ngoc Lan’s fans.

By the time we arrived at the 20th Annual Rosslyn Jazz Festival on Saturday, The Bad Plus was wrapping up its performance. I could only heard the last two tracks, but I loved the energetic classical, jazz and rock fusion the trio was playing. So we just hung around to catch the final lineup: Tierney Sutton Band.

With such a fantastic rhythm section—Christian Jacob (piano), Kevin Axt (bass) and Ray Brinker (drums)—backing her up, Tierney Sutton brought down the joint. They “abused” (Sutton’s own muse) Frank Sinatra’s “In Other Words” and “The Lady is a Tramp” by completely reimagined the arrangements. They gave the audience a taste of the band’s forthcoming release with George Gershwin’s “Summertime” and “My Man’s Gone Now.” The group crafted its own vision of “Summertime” and Sutton incorporated her opera vocals into “My Man’s Gone Now.”

From hypnotic bass groove on “Fever” to the mellow tempo on “Something Cool” to the drums-vocals duet on “What a Little Moonlight Will Do,” it was a joy listening to the creative ways the band does covers. The show closed out with yet another fantastic swing on “Devil May Care.” During the concert, Sutton cleverly promoted her live album, which could be purchased for autograph, by pointing out the tunes she performed. I copped I’m With the Band, which consists of 16 tracks recorded live at Birdland on March 29 and 30, 2005, and I have been enjoying it since the ride home.

There are new releases that you can’t wait to jump right in, like a Tung Duong album. Speaking of Tung Duong, when do we expect a new joint? Then there are some new releases that you’re just not sure if you even want to give it a try, like a Duy Manh album. Doan Phi’s Thien Than Toi Loi is the latter.

Doan Phi is an entertainer and Asia brought him in just for that purpose. He is fun to watch. Who wouldn’t get a kick out of a little dude prancing around the stage like he has no spine in his body? As far as his vocal development, I have heard nada. Thien Than Toi Loi is not like a box of chocolate. Even without listening to album, you’ll already know exactly what you’ll get.

He hides his voice behind uptempo beats like “Quen Di,” “Membo Italian” and “Mua He Tinh Yeu.” He hardly gets out of his comfort register. The slow tracks including “Em Yeu Oi,” “Mot Trai Tim Mot Tinh Yeu” and “Giac Mo Tuyet Voi” show the whiny, feminine side of him. Trish joins him on “Tinh La Soi To.” With two of Asia’s weakest vocalists and a mechanical club production make this version the worse yet.

The release of Thien Than Toi Loi is like Asia throwing Doan Phi a bone for being with the production.

With a sultry voice and a voluptuous figure, Thanh Ha is a bitch of a singer. On her latest release, Chia Khoa Tinh Yeu, she tries to mind-fuck both your body and soul. On the front cover, she teases you with a plain, simple white dress that could easily pull right off. On the back, she’s already on the sheet in her arousing lingerie waiting for you to take her home and make luscious love to her.

With Roland Casiquin and Duc Tri holding down the board, Thanh Ha makes a huge success in making Chia Khoa Tinh Yeu sexy and fresh even though the repertoire is scattered all over the place, which prevents the album from being a booty-call soundtrack. You could probably get your groove on with the jazz-arranged “Dem Do Thi,” but how do you make love to the cha-cha “Sai Gon Dep Lam?” Sai Gon is hot as hell, especially in the summer, but you will piss off a lot of people if you try to make love to her even though she already lost her virginity to the other regime. I have no idea where I am going with this, but I like Thanh Ha’s effortless flow on both track.

If I were given the opportunity to shape the direction of the album, I would start off Chia Khoa Tinh Yeu with the seducing remake of “Tinh La Soi To.” The funk-rock production is perfect for a strip tease. Like what the lyrics suggested: “Hay biet hom nay minh van con nhau day / Neu lo mai sau tinh troi vao dang cay.” That’s right, no one knows where love will be at tomorrow. So just make as much love as you can today. Once the clothes are all off, I would slow down the vibe with “Soi Buoc Em,” a powerful, gorgeous ballad that showcases Thanh Ha’s soulful side along with the sensational “Hoai Cam” and “Mong Manh.”

If Thanh Ha could throw more slow, blues-jazz ballads such as “Tinh Lo,” “Noi Long” and “Mua Thu Canh Nhau” into the mix, this would have become a great baby-making album. You wouldn’t need to pay thousands of dollars for IVF. Just buy this album and play it again and again with your partner and you’ll guarantee to make a beautiful baby in no time. In a more serious note, Chia Khoa Tinh Yeu is a proof that Thanh Ha is, without a doubt, the one who holds the key when it come to love even though she also has the ignition.

When I first learned that Thu Hoai was making her debut album with an acoustic jazz trio, I was very excited for her. I got nervous, however, when she told me the tunes she was going to cover including “La Chanson D’Orphee,” “Autumn Leaves” and “Cry Me a River.” These are great choices of standards, but would she able to pull them off? After listening to La Chanson D’Orphee, I am not alone. Thu Hoai was nervous as hell as well.

“Autumn Leaves” leads off the album with a bossa-nova groove. I heard Thu Hoai performed live a couple of times before, but never in such a constrained approach. She fluffs from French, English (even mixed the two) to Vietnamese and the band damn near drowns her out. Likewise, she struggles to connect to the musicians on “Besame Mucho,” another Latin flavor. The piano’s ostinato comping into instead of around her vocals. When she drops out, the drums and bass play stronger and tighter accompanying the piano solo.

Through her stilted flow and lacking of confidence on the title track, it is apparent that she is not from the school of jazz. She doesn’t possess the chops to improvise her ways through timing, phrasing and interacting with the band. On “Moon River” she latches on to the slow tempo and she recites rather than sings the words.

“Nang Thu” is the turning point of the album. Thu Hoai sings with much more confidence even the rhythm section kicks up a notch. She sounds at ease with the trio and her phrasing comes across much more natural as if she could feel the beat. Although she has also loosen up on the fun, up-tempo “‘S Wonderful,” it is her version of “Nang Thu” that makes me wish she had recorded the entire album reinterpreting Vietnamese compositions.

The intention of wanting to attract an international audience is very ambitious. No crime in that, but start from the core first before branching out. Even Shakira didn’t become an international sensation over night or with just one album.

A quick glance at the tracklist on Le Quyen’s Khuc Tinh Xua worried me. It would be a damn shame to witness one of my favorite female vocalists goes down Dam Vinh Hung’s path: fucking up classic sentimental ballads. As soon as I heard the first bar on the opening track, however, my worry was gone. Le Quyen not only didn’t let me down, but she also gave “nhac sen” an elegant makeover.

Le Quyen has learned the art of covering timeless golden tunes. She also understands the challenge of respecting the work and at the same time making each tune her own. In the leadoff track, Truc Phuong’s “Mua Nua Dem,” she bares her soul without being overemotional and expresses the lyrics without belting out her big, smoky pipe. In the second track, Thanh Binh’s “Tinh Lo,” she refined the tune to its core by stripping out the pathos and getting straight to the pain. She sings each word like she lives it. Her version of Hong Van’s “Doi Thong Hai Mo” is not just a threnody. She sings as if she also wanted to buried her soul next to the two graves.

From Y Van’s “Buon” to Tuan Khanh’s “Chiec La Cuoi Cung” to Anh Bang’s “Em Ve Keo Troi Mua” to Minh Ky’s “Tinh Doi” to Tran Thien Thanh’s “Han Mac Tu,” she makes these tunes fresh and “un-sen” with her gentle-but-grainy voice and soulful-but-never-schmaltz delivery. With the exception of the album closer, Anh Bang’s “Ngon Truc Dao,” which ruined by the dull beat, Khuc Tinh Xua is Le Quyen’s most consistent set yet. Some of the productions could benefit from simplicity, but Le Quyen’s voice is right on the money. She had demonstrated how classic ballads should be covered: thoughtful and tasteful.