My Le has a gorgeous high pitch and a touch of coarseness in her timbre, which has built up over the years. With the right tunes, she could soar. Unfortunately, she wastes too much time chasing that “Van Trang Dem Troi.” With her new release, Tinh, she takes on some standards that suit her voice.

My Le had an interesting interpretation of Trinh Cong Son’s music. Her version of “Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong” back in My Nhan Ngu stood out from the rest of sugary, forgettable pop tunes. On Tinh, two excellent numbers also came from Trinh’s repertoire. Her take on “Xin Cho Toi” is spellbinding thanks to the smokiness in her voice. She sounds rough on the surface, but sweet and emotional in the core. “Dau Chan Dia Dang” possesses the same sentimental rawness she brings to Trinh’s lyricism.

On Truong Sa’s “Mot Mai Em Di,” she sounds soulful but breathy. Weakest tracks are the cha-cha rendition of Nguyen Anh 9’s “Tinh Yeu Den Trong Gia Tu” and pop-ballad “Tinh.” The mechanical productions make her boring. Pham Duy’s “Tieng Dan Toi” would have been hypnotic if the arrangement is scaled down to just a simple acoustic guitar. The glossy beat reduces the emotion of the vocals.

Sade, the queen of understatement, and her minimalist musicians stir up some more quiet storms on Soldier of Love, their sixth studio release. The power of simplicity is strongest on the haunting beauty of “Morning Bird.” Accompanied by the spare piano chords and crisp tambourine rhythms, Sade sounds like a voluntarily trapped bird: “If you set me free, I will not run.” On the title track, Sade skillfully allows the sharp snare drums cuts through her smoky, soulful contralto like a soldier of love who has been torn up inside. “The Safest Place,” in which she sings with heartaches along the simple strumming guitar, quietly but unforgettably closes out the spellbinding album. As a mature artist with twenty-five year career under her belt, Sade knows how to do more with less and I am down with that.

Xuan Khoi sounds so much like Tuan Ngoc, only sleepier. In fact, Tuan Ngoc is all over his new album, Chieu Mot Minh Qua Pho. As soon as Xuan Khoi begins to sing the first bar on the opening track, Tu Cong Phung’s “Tren Thang Ngay Da Qua,” you can immediately recognize the phrasing. Even the music is arranged in Duy Cuong’s Latin flavor.

Like many of Tuan Ngoc’s followers, Xuan Khoi isn’t capable of reaching the upper register with ease, a skill that sets Tuan Ngoc apart from his imitators. Tuan Ngoc’s influence is even more transparent on Tu Cong Phung’s “Tinh Tu Mua Xuan.” Not only his phrasing, but his flow and his vibrato come straight from Tuan Ngoc’s classic rendition. The difference is that Xuan Khoi gets shaky on the long notes and he lacks the romance and authority Tuan Ngoc brought to the tune. Obviously Duy Cuong’s semi-classical orchestration is unmatchable.

The whole time I am listening to Xuan Khoi, yet all I could think about is Tuan Ngoc. From Pham Duy’s “Tinh Cam” to Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ao Lua Ha Dong” to Nguyen Trung Cang’s “Bang Khuan Chieu Noi Chu,” Xuan Khoi simply can’t escape Tuan Ngoc’s shadow. Both Xuan Khoi and I have one thing in common: we spend way too much time with the musician’s musician. My suggestion to Xuan Khoi is to stop listening to Tuan Ngoc, stay away from Tuan Ngoc’s repertoire, and don’t even think about covering Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Rieng Mot Goc Troi.”

On her new release, Nguoi Dan Ba Di Nhat Mat Troi, Thien Kim sounds bored out of her fucking mind. When taking on Truc Ho’s tunes in particular, what she really trying to tell him is, “Come on, boss! Do I really have to sing these songs again? Haven’t Lam Nhat Tien and Lam Thuy Van already covered the shit out of them?”

On the remixed version of Truc Ho’s “Vang Trang Tinh Yeu,” she delivers the track like she’s trying to catch some sleep than the club beat. Same goes toward the wimpy cha-cha on “Se Hon Bao Gio Het,” she wants to be cuddle under the sheet more than anything else. The lame-out, upbeat remix of “Mai Yeu Nguoi Thoi” shows that Mr. Truc Ho’s creativity has drought out. Like a manufacture, he makes beats to meet productions rather than expectations.

The most heartfelt moment on here—there has to be something—is unsurprisingly not from Truc Ho. Accompanied by Truc Sinh’s picking guitar and spare-arranged strings, Thien Kim pours out her heart and soul to express Van Dong (Duc Tien)’s lyrical emotion on the title track. Words of advice to “Nguoi Dan Ba Di Nhat Mat Troi”: It’s time to pick up the sun outside of Asia’s sky.

With Dam Vinh Hung as his mentor, no wonder Duong Trieu Vu is a fucktard. His latest release, Mai Mai Ben Em, goes beyond mediocre thanks to Mr. Dam who translated two tunes exclusively for this album. “Nguoi La Ai, O Dau?” is one of those Chinese-melody songs that has translated into many Vietnamese versions. Same music, different words, good job, Mr. Dam!

If we were to take Vietnamese words off the album, Mai Mai Ben Em sounds more like a Chinese record. From “Xa Em Ky Niem” to “Dung Lua Doi Nhau” to “Sad Without You,” there is nada Vietnamese aesthetics in those songs. Even a Vietnamese tune written by a Vietnamese writer, like Yen Lam’s “Rat Muon,” the nursery rap and the Chinese-inflected hook don’t give the listeners a hint of Vietnamese culture. Without reading the credit, one wouldn’t have known that the song is Vietnamese.

With Jimmy Nguyen’s “Mai Mai Ben Em,” Le Quyen’s recent version puréed Duong Trieu Vu’s into baby food from her authoritative vocals to the elegant arrangement. On Do Dinh Phuc’s “Trai Tim Cho Em,” another heavily Chinese-influenced, you can hear Mr. Dam all over it. From song selection to the album art, Mr. Dam is pretty much shaped the direction. Just look at the ridiculous album cover: Duong Trieu Vu looks like he’s posing for an energy-drink commercial.

Viet Thao issued yet another warning to the audience in Atlanta. Nhung Cung Dieu Que Minh could be the last show from Van Son entertainment if the bootlegging problem won’t resolved. I urge you to go buy original DVDs from Van Son. Even if you can’t save the artless Titanic from sinking, you can at least help Van Son buy his dancers some decent outfits. From the performance of Cat Tien to Le Nguyen to the group’s closing, the dancers’ clothes (T-shirts and jeans) looked as if they were purchased from New York Chinatown for a dollar a pop.

Worst was Ngoc Ha’s outfit in “Con Co.” That dress looks like it was purchased on the clearance rack the day after Halloween. The outfit has nothing to do with a songbird, but more like a cheap ho. Ngoc Ha has gone from classy to trashy and her cans looked like they were upgraded. What the fuck is wrong with her? A gorgeous voice is now accompanied by a sex-up image.

Speaking of sex, Van Son’s production is laced with sexual references. The standup comedy between Van Son and Bao Quoc is outright disgusting. Hearing two old men talk dirty is really nasty, not funny. Bao Quoc came across like an old dirty, horny bastard, but that is nothing comparing to Viet Thao’s rapping. It’s really embarrassing to see a grown-ass man rapping none-sense and had the ball to say it’s “rap not rape.” You were raping hip-hop, Mr. Thao.

Why a guy would need surgery is beyond me, but Vietnamese operatic singer Linh Tam creeps me out as soon as the camera zoomed into his face. His eyes, nose and lips are so fucked up that you can’t tell if he’s turning into a she or vice versa. Van Son has recruited some really weird-ass people on the show like a guy who plays the flute with his nose and a bogus magician even though magician’s act is the most enjoyable part of the the show. The only visual attraction is Hoang Thuc Linh whose look is 8 out of 10, but whose voice is 4 out of 10.

If this is the kind of crap Van Son put out, he might as well close up shop. It seems like he has nowhere else to go, but down.

It’s a nice change to hear young singers like Phuong Vy and Le Hieu get intimate with old ballads and it’s also a treat to hear Duc Tri refreshes these standards with a touch of jazz. Mua Thu Cho Em is not a new concept. Duc Tri cut a similar record four years ago with Duc Tuan and Ho Ngoc Ha on Ao Anh. Nothing wrong with repeating a success.

The album kicks off with a duet take on Y Van’s “Nhung Buoc Chan Am Tham.” This tune has been arranged before with an uptempo, but Duc Tri slows it down with a Latin flavor. Between the two, Le Hieu is obviously more experienced than Phuong Vy on covering old standards; therefore, he saves most of the duet tracks, particularly Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Ca Cho Em.” As for his solo, his bluesy take on Tran Thien Thanh’s “Lau Dai Tinh Ai,” is nowhere near Thuy Vu’s funky rendition. His nasal voice is far less sexy than Thuy Vu’s deep tenor.

Phuong Vy on the other hand lacks the interpretational skills on how to approach a standard. She also lacks the breath control. Her version of Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi” is the weakest I have heard. She chooses to restraint yourself instead of taking up an octave on the bridge even though she is capable of soaring. Her rendition of Y Van’s “60 Nam Cuoc Doi” is a proof. Duc Tri turns this tune into a shouting blue, but he also cleverly added an r&b rhythm to it. The result is stunning as Phuong Vy shows her confidence in kicking her vocals up a notch. Unfortunately, she ruined the song with her English fluffing.

Even though the vocals aren’t up to par, Duc Tri managed to created a decent pop album with his minimal, elegant arrangements. That alone proves that he’s talented producer.

Thanh Thao is not a bitch of a singer, but she is a bitch of the dance floor. On Dance Remix 2010, she packs together a bunch of mediocre hits and take them both to night and fitness clubs.

What makes Thanh Thao still has her foot in the pop scene all these years is her investment in productions. Mad props to the producers for the bass-pumping, energetic beats on the medleys that are helping me burning my calories. Even my little boy bounces when I play this record.

Thanks to the 808 drum machine, you can still get up and move your body to the most heart-breaking, close-to-reality lyrics: “Em khong tin xa nhau anh song mot minh anh… Neu khong tai anh thi em da co mot tinh yeu.” Although buried inside those pulsating bass and Chinese strings, her emotion and honesty delivered, as if underneath all the noisiness is a lonesome soul desiring to be heard.

Grabbing your heart while moving your feet is not easy to accomplish, but Thanh Thao has pulled it off. Ain’t that a bitch? Even though this is just the beginning of 2010, Remix is easily a dance record of the year.

What makes The Bright Mississippi a brilliant record is Allen Toussaint’s refined, rich reinterpretation of New Orleans standards. With a cast of all-star players including clarinetist Don Byron, trumpeter Nicholas Payton and guitarist Marc Ribot, Mr. Toussaint—who may be one of the best jazz pianists alive you have never heard of—revives classics like Louis Armstrong’s “West End Blues,” Duke Ellington’s “Day Dream” and Thelonious Monk’s “Bright Mississippi” by returning to the root. As a result, The Bright Mississippi sounds sweet, joyful and familiar on the surface, yet soulful, gentle and whimsical underneath. His pianistic approach is full of angularity and subtlety. Every time I listen to the opening riff on Sidney Bechet’s “Egyptian Fantasy,” particularly in this rendition, I wonder where Mr. Nguyen Van Thuong got his melody for “Dem Dong.”

Two of Thuy Nga’s biggest drama queens are back, obviously by popular demands. What makes Bang Kieu and Minh Tuyet a great match is their preference for infusing syrups into sugary puppy-love ballads. Diabetics are advised to stay away from their second-collaborated Mot Lan Nua Xin Co Nhau.

Right off the title track, the duet wastes no time baking up the Crème-Brûlée melodramas. “Ngay em rat can anh thi anh o dau? / Trien mien voi noi co don,” Minh Tuyet sings in her caramelized voice, and then Bang Kieu responses with, “Thoi gian da giup cho anh biet rang / Anh yeu em nhieu hon the.” They both soar on the chorus. Actually Bang Kieu is doing the soaring. Minh Tuyet is wise enough to not compete with his big-ass, feminine falsetto.

The title of Minh Tuyet’s solo “Loi Xin Loi Kho Co That Kho Noi” should tell you what the track is all about despite her low notes are barely audible. Bang Kieu closes out the album with “Mua Va Anh.” His effeminate emphasis on “mai” and “gio” will guarantee to get deep under your skin.