Who could be mad at a thirteen-year-old girl trying to swing like Ella? On her debut Ella… Of Thee I Swing recorded live at Montreal’s Place des Arts in 2007, Nikki Yanofsky perfected Ella’s chops on fast-tempo tunes like “Old McDonald,” “A Tisket, a Tasket” and “It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Got That Swing).” She imitated not only Ella’s nimble style, but also her scat. Needless to say, her technical skill, particularly breath control, is nowhere near the First Lady of Song. She has a remarkable voice for her age, but lacks the experience to fully articulate the blues on “Evil Gal Blues” and “Ain’t Got Nothing But the Blues.” She needs a few more years to develop her potential.

Over the year, I had been to a number of Vietnamese concerts in Virginia and all of them disappointed me. Singers sounded like they came to do their job and the bands lacked passion and imagination. The only concert that still stood out to me was Thu Phuong in Toronto I went to two years ago. What was so great about that night was that Thu Phuong owned the stage, even though she was accompanied by the Canadian jazz band. She didn’t sing jazz, but the jazzy vibes appealed to the mass audience. My brother-in-law and his friend loved the show even though they are not jazz freaks.

So if I have it my way, I would love to bring that experience to Virginia and also heighten it up a notch by giving the musicians more freedom to improvise. The GW’s faculty quartet would be a perfect band to accompany as well as to improvise. The pianist has some Monk’s chops and classical licks. The drummer is from Latin America who could kick some real nice bossa nova rhythm. The bassist could walk and talk like Ron Carter. The saxophonist has some of Coltrane’s influence. I would also throw in a student trumpeter who blew down the house at every jam session.

So if I have an opportunity to organize a concert, I would invite Thu Phuong to kick off the first show. She could attract both the popular audience as well as the aficionados. I have Tung Duong in mind too, but he is too way out there for the first concert. The show would feature only 10 to 15 tunes and I would limit to just Trinh Cong Son’s songbook. To keep the concert spontaneous, Thu Phuong can only meet with the band once to make sure everyone is on the same keys. She would not have to sing jazz. She would start off with the first verse and let the band take over to improvise. She would then return to take the tune out.

Yes, I do recognize that it is easier said than done, but I hope someday we can do it even though I have no experience in organizing a show. Is it feasible to do? How many of you would come to a concert like this?

As the title hinted, Diana Krall’s newest release is best experienced during Quiet Nights. From the opening “Where or When” to the bonus-closing “Every Time We Say Good Bye,” Krall delivered the entire bossa nova-flavored album in a relaxed, mellow tone. Together with her quartet and Claus Ogerman, master of Brazilian-tinged orchestration, Krall breathes calm and breezy air into the title tune, “So Nice” (love her tasty piano chops) and other standards.

Jane Monheit’s latest release, The Lovers, The Dreamers and Me, is not an easy-listening one. It may take some patience and shots of espresso to get through the entire disc. Except for the light swing on “Get Out of Town,” the tempos are slow and sometimes dead slow. Her sweet, rounded voice combined with the doleful orchestration makes tunes like “Ballad of the Sad Young Men,” “Slow Like Honey” and “I Do It For Your Love” sound super sleepy. On “Lucky to Be Me,” her languorous phrasings drag the melody into an indolent afternoon. “Rainbow Connection” perfectly ends the album with a lullaby. As unexciting as it might be, the album does come to life in the stillness of the night when everything else is asleep.

I know I have praised her numerous of time already, but Billie Holiday was a true jazz legend. The more I listen to her the more I discover her unique talent. In addition to her ability to express every word she sang, she broke many rules. Unlike many jazz singers, Lady Day never scatted or altered the lyrics. Instead, she improvised on the timing, the phrasing and the placing of notes. As a result, she could turn any standard into her own no matter how many times the tune had been covered.

Lady In Satin is one of my personal favorite Billie’s records. At this point in her career, she only seemed to be interested in expressing the lyrics and her interpretation of “The End of a Love Affair” is simply heartbreaking. To my astonishment, Billie didn’t even know the song. In a bonus track, which captures the recording session of “The End of a Love Affair,” Billie told the producer, “I don’t know it. Mel, please try to put much noise as you can and loud as you can. I don’t know the tune.”

Although Billie didn’t know the song, she recorded it right on the spot. Like an instrumentalist, she listened to the band playing and then sang along behind the beat with her very own interpretation. Now that is some serious improvisations.

The eleven songs on Madeleine Peyroux’s Bare Bones, her fourth album, sound as though they are old ballads, yet they are all new tunes she has co-written. Like Billie Holiday, Peyroux knows how songs would like to be sung and how to make the lyrics come to life even though she interprets them in such a laid-back sensitivity. Unlike Lady Day, however, Peyroux sways us to look on the shinier side of life.

Stripping the emotional core down to its bare bones, Peyroux relaxes her flow as she encourages us to do the same with our lives. “Stop all this talk / Turn off the telephone / Open up another bottle,” she advises on “River of Tears.” “Instead of acting crazy chasin’ things that make you mad / Keep your heart ahead it’ll lead you back to what you have,” she suggests on “Instead.” On “Homeless Happiness,” she sounds like she had lived it: “A bench by the shore a coat for my pillow / A future with no guarantee / The world was a rat race and I had my fill oh / No hurries no worries for me.”

Except for “You Can’t Do Me,” the only track that gets a notch of rock up, the fantastic instrumentations allowed her words to shine through. Producer Larry Klein doesn’t allow the accompaniments to overshadow Peyroux’s hypnotic vocals. As a result, Bare Bones is a perfect record for kicking back, slowing down and enjoying life.

Ho Quynh Huong’s new album kicks off with “Hay Noi Loi Yeu,” an energetic club joint with a Latin flavor. She than exercises her vocals on a powerful r & b ballad, “Can Phong Mua Roi.” Unfortunately the album plummeted on the third track, “Love of My Life.” Her English is somewhat comprehensible, but the lyrics and the accent are still horrendous. Like the current state of Wall Street, the album never pulls itself back up after that. What lacking is the creative Nang Luong.

Thanh Thao needs to put the Barbie image to rest. She’s a grown-ass woman now and singing about Barbie just seems ridiculous. The silliest track on her newest release, Thao, is no other than Phuong Uyen’s “Bup Be Buon.” The way she phrases “buon” repeatedly as if someone’s trumpeting while doing a number two. The only difference is that she has the club beat to back her up.

Thao is an instant pop album that could get you addicted for about a week. Huynh Nhat Tan plays a major role in both lyrical content and production. His sentimental ballads, like “Vi Sao Chi Co Anh” and “Vi Anh Con Yeu,” sound Chinese, but quite catchy. He’s a master at hooking the choruses straight to your head the first time you hear them. On the production side, Thao has some quite groovy numbers. I can’t stop bouncing to “Cam Giac Nao Co Em.” The beat is too damn contagious.

Vocal wise, Thanh Thao recognizes her limitation; therefore, Auto-Tune is being used on a verse here and there throughout the album to enhance her singing. “Baby Boy” is the only track that is entirely Auto-Tuned and it is a perfect example of today’s Vietnamese teenybopper. The tune is about a mama’s boy and the lyrics go something like this: “Buon cho toi tuong duoc yeu / nao ngo dau nguoi yeu toi van… la baby boy.” How lovely?

On her sophomore release, Nua Hon Thuong Dau, Y Phuong steps up her game. Although the album is not perfect, it is way better than her debut Tra No Tinh Xa. The major improvement is the matured materials. Instead of wasting her voice and our time on junkie hits, she pours her heart out on some of the most emotional classics.

Y Phuong sure knows how to provoke the drama. Accompanied by strumming guitar and sawing violin, she drowns in her own tears on the title track. On Tuan Khanh’s “Chiec La Cuoi Cung,” she swells like a songbird with a lost soul across a crescendo. At the climax, she holds the high notes with her gorgeous vibrato. On Vu Thanh An’s “Bai Khong Ten So 8,” she maneuvers her flow around the bossa-nova arrangement effortlessly. Her rendition of Trinh Cong Son’s “Rung Xua Da Khep,” Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Bai Tinh Ca Cho Em” and Tram Tu Thieng’s “Tuong Niem” are well-delivered even when her pitch is a shade too high for comfort.

Nguyen Anh 9’s “Tinh Khuc Chieu Mua” sounds worn out partly because the song has been sung to death. This tune should be banned for a while before anyone could return to it. It desperately needs a break. On the contrary, Pham Anh Dung’s “Thien Than Mong Manh” sounds new, but out of place on this album. The nice, relaxed feel of the tune breaks the dramatic theme she has built up to that point. Without the last track, Nua Hon Thuong Dau is just depressingly pleasure.

What makes Lily Allen’s second album, It’s Not Me, It’s You, so damn compelling is not her small, sweet voice or the poppy, bouncy productions but her swag and her storytelling skills. Seriously, who could make a chorus out of “Fuck you, fuck you very very much” as a snub to Bush and still sounds so adorable?

With producer Greg Kurstin lays down the catchy beats, Allen focuses on getting her words out on subjects including sex (or lack of), God, drugs and getting old (say, 30). On “The Fear,” Allen is cleverly wrapped her words underneath the club production, but her message still shines through: “Life’s about film stars and less about mothers / It’s all about fast cars and passing each other / But it doesn’t matter cause I’m packing plastic / And that’s what makes my life so fucking fantastic.”

“Not Fair” is ridiculous addictive. The beat is perfect soundtrack for a Quentin Tarantino’s film and the story about a good guy who sucks in bed is simply hilarious. “Oh, I lie here in the wet patch / In the middle of the bed / I’m feeling pretty damn hard done by / I spent ages giving head,” complains Allen. And that is her “weapon of mass consumption.” She makes you feel sorry for her even though it’s not the bloke’s fault that he can’t make her scream.