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.

Hong Nhung and Quang Dung know a thing or two about marketing themselves and they don’t do it the traditional way. Instead of dropping album then following up with a concert, they do it in reverse. So if you can’t be at concert, especially with the ticket price of 3 million VND or approximately $170 US dollars, you can just pick up the album. Not a bad concept at all.

On their second collaborative release, Co Dau Bao Gio, Hong Nhung and Quang Dung reconnect once again to offer their simple, elegant interpretations of Trinh Cong Son’s timeless works. The feel of the album is easygoing and rejoicing and who else could provide those vibes better than Hoai Sa?

With six duets including “Tu Tinh Khuc,” “Tinh Nho” and “Ngau Nhien,” the BFF pair sounds relaxing and comforting even when their voices don’t go well together. On “Cat Bui” for instance, they sound awkwardly off on the chorus. As for their solo pieces, Hong Nhung has done it again with “Ru Doi Di Nhe.” Her voice is sultry and effortlessly in control. Hoai Sa also gives a delicious jazz lick on the keyboard. Her haunting voice floats like ghost passing through glass on “Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong.” Quang Dung’s version of “Gop Lai Mua Xuan” and “Xin Cho Toi” are just pleasant.

Co Dau Bao Gio is not a groundbreaking, but a classy album to enjoy in an intimate setting. It’s a perfect joint to kick back to with a glass of wine or martini in your hand. Cheers!

More than a decade ago, Ai Van was one of the shining stars on Paris By Night. Although her popularity quickly diminished, she made the wise choice to strike out on her own. She was getting nowhere with Thuy Nga. The production could not get her further than what she had accomplished.

She tried to move beyond her signature style, but her venture into pop territory was a disaster. She butchered one of Trinh Cong Son’s tunes. Her water-clear voice isn’t suitable for pop music; therefore, she returns to what she does best with her newest release, Dem A Dao. Although the album title is hinting at northern folks, Ai Van tackles all three regions. Her flow and enunciation on the title track, written and arranged by Phu Quang, are simply gorgeous. From the traditional instruments to the northern melody, the song fits her style like hand in glove. Likewise, she delivers the southern piece (Cao Van Lau’s “Da Co Hoai Lang”) with no less luminescent. Both Duy Cuong’s arrangement and her ageless vocals are breathtaking on Pham Duy’s “Nu Tam Xuan.”

Even with a few disappointing tracks, such as her duet with Ai Xuan on Duy Khanh’s “Ai Ra Xu Hue” and the mechanical production from Chi Tai on “Beo Dat May Troi,” Dem A Dao is definitely a remarkable comeback for Ai Van.

Quach Thanh Danh’s fourth album, Nhu Da Dau Yeu, is snore-worthy not because of his vocals but his karaoke-standard productions. Even though his relaxed baritone is charming, the lifeless accompaniments make him sound so sleepy. It would have been a great album of cover if QTD were to hire either Hoai Sa or Duc Tri to provide him some simple but classy arrangements.

Yen Lam is unknown to me and I am not impressed with his work on this album. The use of zither on the intro of Anh Bang’s “Khuc Thuy Du” gives an impression that we’re about to hear a Chinese tune until the lyrics come in. The cheesy guitar riff on Truong Sa’s “Xin Con Goi Ten Nhau” is just unbearable. Yet, the most distracting sound is the programmed drums on most of these tracks. Phu Quang’s “Em Oi, Ha Noi Pho” is one of the best two songs on the album because the drums were illuminated. The strumming guitars offer a sense of intimacy to QTD’s warm voice. The other standout track is also from Phu Quang and without the rhythm section. The blending of tinkling piano and sorrowful violin brings a lonesome and chilling vibe to his soulful delivery on “Noi Nho Mua Dong.”

If Nhu Da Yeu Yeu were stripped down to just his voice accompanied by either a piano or a guitar, it would have been a worthwhile album. I have never heard of a Vietnamese singer who sings with just the double bass. Both Cassandra Wilson (on “The Very Thought of You” from her recent album, Lovely) and Kevin Mahogany (who did it live on stage) hypnotized me with just their vocals backed up by the plucking bass.

We owe the asshole who jilted Ho Le Thu for this one. Because of him, her fourth solo release, De Ta Say, is a heartbreaking pleasure. She finally pours her heart out on the tracks and drowns her sorrow in the lyrics.

Right off the title opener, written and arranged by Huynh Nhat Tan, she is ready to get the drama off her silicon chest. Belting out about getting wasted to forget all the bitterness, she gets us intoxicated with her soulful delivery and smoky voice. She continues to soar like a songbird with a broken wing on Truong Le Son’s “Huyet Le” and Le Quoc Dung’s “Em Phai Noi Loi Chia Tay.” Although these two sugary pop hits sound banal, Ho Le Thu could apply them into her condition and phrase each word as if she has lived it.

Unfortunately she can’t do the same with her own translated lyrics. What make “Em Van Tin (Still Believe)” the worst track on the album is the use of Vinish. Somehow this mixture doesn’t sound right at all: “Chon doi em nguyen yeu mai mot nguoi / trong tim chi minh anh thoi / I do I know / You are still in my heart / I believe tinh em van do du cach xa…”

Then again Ho Le Thu’s broken heart lasts as long as the length of this album, which is less than an hour. De Ta Say starts out with a painful track, but ends with a joyful “Mambo Yeu Thuong” so she can just shake off the grief and move on. I am sure she won’t have a hard time finding her next man. Who wouldn’t want a chick with an Asian face, Angelina Jolie’s lips and Pamala Anderson’s cans? All she need now is a Beyoncé’s ass to go with the rest.

Cassandra Wilson definitely has her way with standards. On her 2009 Grammy-winning Loverly, Ms. Wilson breathes cool air into classic jazz tunes with her sexy contralto and laidback phrasing. Her cover of “A Day in the Life of a Fool” should be studied by anyone, particularity Vietnamese singers, who would like to learn how to sing behind the beat. She maneuvers her way around the boss-nova groove like rings of smoke twirling in a dark and empty space. With just an upright bass accompanying her, she molds “The Very Thought of You” into a new shape.

Big props to my big bro HmL for sharing the album.