On Somethin’ Else, Cannonball Adderley somehow managed to snatch up his leader Miles Davis as a sideman. The title track kicks off with a call and response between two gifted musicians. By feeding off each other’s vibe, Davis and Adderley were having a great musical conversation. With Art Blakey, Hank Jones and Sam Jones holding down the rhythm section, Davis and Adderley gives “Autumn Leaves” an ultimate beauty. Davis is a master of selection (only plays notes that are meaningful) and his muted trumpet is both hunting and chilling. Adderley’s intricate phrasing on the alto sax, however, provides a rich contrast to Davis’s minimal approach. This record is simply somethin’ else.

Cardin Nguyen is one hardworking kid in showbiz. He writes his own lyrics, produces his own tracks and sings his own tunes, but he can’t obscure the fact that he doesn’t have what it takes to make even just a passable record. Va Hom Nay… Now I Know, his new release, is a proof. His rhymes are elementary; his beats come straight out of the club factory; and his singing is still mediocre. Even Auto-Tune couldn’t help correct his wimpy pitch.

On “Sell Out,” a sacrilege sample of Cheryl Lynn’s “Got To Be Real,” Cardin addresses those who talk behind his back. He mumbles some shit about daring someone to write a song and throw it back at him. He also accuses somebody of a copycat who can’t even translate some lyrics. He tries to talk in a tough voice, but you can tell, dude can’t even break grapes in a food fight.

His soft side comes out on Truc Ho’s “Va Hom Nay” and the Chinese-inflected “Mai Yeu Nguoi Thoi” with Chosen who drops some kindergarten rhymes about some chick who had done him wrong, even though he tatted her name on his arm. As if the slow version isn’t dull enough, he cuts another lounge session that is perfect for, well, lounging. And if you isn’t fallen asleep by then, the “Outro Lullaby,” which he sings for his child when it’s time to turn out the lights, will make sure you do.

To be fair, Cardin deserves the props for making his own music. Just give him about twenty more albums and he might get somewhere. We’ll see.

Over a small strumming guitar, Khanh Loan croons, “Bat dau lai thoi ban cua toi oi / Dung khoc them cho nguoi da xa roi / Muon phien nhieu cang lam doi u toi / Hay lau kho di giot nuoc mat tren moi.” With her high, slightly scratchy voice, she delivers the title track on her second album, Bat Dau Lai Thoi, like a songbird trying to heal her own wound. Breakup is excruciating and she determines to start over. She wrote the song and invited Jimmy Nguyen for the duet. His role is to share her pain and to comfort her.

By the time she gets to “Tro Cut Bac Trong Tinh Yeu,” another track under her own pen, she has completely erased him off her memory: “Gio toi xoa vet dau / Gio toi xoa het u sau / Gio toi xoa moi tinh dau do dang.” Yes, he is gone and she makes sure he knows so on “Thoi.” Over a club mix, she declares, “Thoi anh dung khoc nua lam gi. Ky niem sau an tinh cu xa xua.” It’s not the most innovative mix, but it helps break up the emotional tracks that run throughout the album.

Although she could ride up-tempo beats, her dark, soulful voice is more suitable on slow, heart-rending tunes. Hoai An’s “Khong The Xa Hon” is perfect for her voice. She soars out the hook with power and carries out the words like she needs to get them off her chest. Bat Dau Lai Thoi is not a bad pop record at all.

Nguyen Vinh Tien’s Giot Suong Bay Len was a phenomenal debut thanks to Ngoc Khue’s extraordinary performance. The architect/songwriter continues to explore the contemporary-folks direction on his sophomore Ngoi Tren Vach Nang, but without Ngoc Khue.

What obviously missing on Ngoi Tren Vach Nang is Ngoc Khue’s playful idiosyncrasies, the unique elements that made Giot Suong Bay Len so damn hypnotic. Even the elastic Tung Duong is so rigid on “Mot Hat Com Nho.” He doesn’t bend notes or toy with words the way Ngoc Khue would have done. Although Trong Tan’s voice is very charming and he has done a great job of controlling his obstreperous vocals, I can’t help but imagining what Ngoc Khue would sound like on “Ong Toi.”

Anh Tho is the only female vocalist on the album, and she only contributes one track, yet her performance stands out. Her high, crystal-clear soprano floats like ghost passing through glass on “Song Oi Dung Chay.” Tuan Anh (not the weirdo one) is the main singer who is responsible for five of the album’s eight tracks. He has a warm falsetto that is perfect for romantic ballads, but he could also work his way around Nguyen Vinh Tien’s folksy tunes, particularly “Chon Hoang.” Tuan Anh rides in and out of the exhilarating arrangement that made up of both old and new sounds.

What makes Ngoi Tren Vach Nang pulled through is the excellent production. Phan Cuong has done an exceptional job once again behind the board mixing and weaving electronic beats with Vietnamese traditional instruments. Still the album isn’t quite like the one-of-a-kind breakthrough without Ngoc Khue.

Wu Tang’s GZA returns with a superb record that reinforces his street literary. Pro Tools, GZA’s fifth solo album, showcases his signature style: delivering moody and mysterious rhymes over stark beats. “Path of Destruction” glorifies the dark side of street struggles. “Short Race” narrates a life of a kid who is a victim of abuse. “Paper Plate” takes shots at 50 Cent: “One verse will shatter your spine and crush your spirit / No matter what, you still window-shop for lyrics.” With solid track to track, Pro Tools marks a strong comeback from the lyrical Genius.

Being sick allows me to relax and revisit 10 of my favorites albums.

10. Nguyen Khang’s Trinh Ca: While there are tons of Trinh Cong Son album, this one feels so closed and personal because of Nguyen Khang’s raw voice and straight-to-the-heart delivery.

09. Quang Ly’s Noi Nho Mua Dong: His charming voice and unique delivery of the timeless ballads are hard to resist.

08. 5 Dong Ke’s Tu Tinh Ca: These girls know how to turn popular ballads into intoxicating a cappella style.

07. Thanh Lam’s Tu Su: This album was the pre-Le Minh Son era and Thanh Lam’s voice was hypnotizing without belting.

06 Hong Nhung’s Doan Khuc Thu Ha Noi: Listening to this album is like taking a musical tour of Ha Hoi. It’s a perfect concept album.

05. Tung Duong’s Chay Tron: Beside the mesmerizing bossa nova title track and the deep blues “Trang Khat,” the album showcases Tung Duong’s various styles.

04. Duc Tuan’s Doi Mat Nguoi Son Tay: Duc Tuan has done fabulous job of covering Pham Dinh Chuong’s tunes by giving them a fresh vibe.

03. Thuy Vu’s Thang Sau Troi Mua: I could listen to his deep, gentle, charming baritone all day. When will the next album drop?

02. Ngoc Khue’s Giot Suong Bay Len: Ngoc Khue has a musical style of her own and this album is like no others. It’s simply jaw-dropping.

01. Tuan Ngoc’s Giot Le Cho Ngan Sau: Here is a perfect album from song choices to arrangements to deliveries. Just amazing.

Ngoc Anh has a smoky yet sleepy voice. Depend on the tune, she either sounds intoxicating or snoring. Her newest album Romance Cho Anh (Tinh Khuc Phu Quang) juggles in between.

“Trong Anh Chop So Phan” is not a bad starter. The arrangement is vigorous. Her voice is exhilarating along the rock-inflected production. But then on “Chuyen Binh Thuong So 7,” the song is as mundane as its title suggests and her voice starts to get drowsy. The classical “Romance No.1” drifts off further into sleep and the retreated arrangement doesn’t help much either. “May Xua,” a duet between Ngoc Anh and Ha Anh Tuan, is perfect for brunch music. The tune opens with elevator keyboard, and then joins by fake trumpet, wimpy guitar and airline drums to the Caribbean. Their voices are simply bland and unaffected.

“Loi Rieu” picks up where the opening track left off. On the slow-pop arrangement, she is hypnotizing. “Romance No.2” is a standout piece in which she could ride the classical wave. The closeout is another version of “Trong Anh Chop So Phan.” The classical orchestration makes this version much more powerful than the first.

With Hat De Doi Cho, Y Lan’s second album of the year, she brought in Quang Tuan for collaboration. Clever choice. Quang Tuan’s slightly raspy baritone is a perfect complement to Y Lan’s sweet vocals. On the album opener, Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Mua Thu Cho Em,” their voices blend together like champagne and orange juice. The tangy duet is accompanied by Dong Son’s light, sensual arrangement.

The album as a whole is consistent track for track. Quang Tuan delivered his solo pieces, such as Trinh Cong Son’s “Goi Ten Bon Mua” and Doan Chuan and Tinh Linh’s “La Do Muon Chieu,” the way the writers had written. Similarly, Y Lan presents the tunes like Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Mat Thu” and Le Uyen Phuong’s “Tinh Khuc Cho Em” exactly as the composers intended. No crime in that. They both have done the timeless ballads the justice. Yet, for me covering old tunes without given them a fresh new vibe isn’t good enough. I prefer musicians to be more creative and more imaginative when they do covers. I favor musicians who aren’t afraid to step out of their comfort zone and to take the tunes onto a new path, something of their own.

Production wise, Hat De Doi Cho is not Dong Son’s most inspiring work. His orchestrations sound retread and laid back. Either the arrangements didn’t jump start the vocals or the vocals didn’t push the arrangements. The album is a quality work, but it just doesn’t sound like a new record.

Tieng Hat Truong Chi continues Duc Tuan’s direction in concept album. He covers Van Cao’s tunes with the accompanying of Hoai Sa’s arrangements. Hoai Sa is a young, talented musician and he is one of the top-billing producers in Viet Nam. He is also passed for a jazz, semi-classical pianist; therefore, it is not a surprise that Duc Tuan enlisted him for this release.

Like his previous albums, Duc Tuan recorded Truong Chi with a set of standards: wise song selection and quality production. Sometimes a too-careful-too-perfect album returns a reverse effect. Truong Chi is indeed a perfect album, and its perfection robs its soul. In every track the arrangement has stripped down to its basic elements, which diminishes the depth and the textures of the work. The title track, “Truong Chi,” is beautiful rendition. Hoai Sa has done a superb job of playing the piano behind Duc Tuan. The problem is that the track is six minutes long, and without variations, it gets worn out quick. Both “Thu Co Lieu” and “Buon Tan Thu” have a repetitive, mechanical drum track throughout, which doesn’t help Duc Tuan’s little fatigued and breathy vocals.

“Ben Xuan” and “Thien Thai” are good, but could have been better if Hoai Sa could add some colorization and dynamics into the harmonization—something Duc Tri has done so well in his orchestration. With an album like Truong Chi, production plays an important role in enhancing the music. If Hoai Sa could step up his game, the album would have been a great, instead of just decent, one.

I have a perfect title for Nas’s new album: Sleepmatic. I can’t get through fifteen tracks on Untitled in a straight shot. Let’s just forget about the lifeless beats. Nas doesn’t care about them. Lyricism is where his heart beats, but he is just rambling about racism, politic, Fox News, fried chicken and roaches.

Nas is a gifted lyricist when he wants to be, but on Untitled most of his rhymes are comical. In “Roach Project,” he raps as a roach: “I’m creeping and crawling / in your sink or your toilet / I’ll be drinking from your spit
/ anything cause I’m more less an insect with four legs / people come and I fake dead
/ correction I got eight legs.” Then on “Fried Chicken” (featuring Busta Rhymes) he compares women to fried chicken: “Don’t know a part of you that I love best
/ your legs or your breast.” Elsewhere he sounds like rapping while sleeping: “Then I cop, then I yatch, then I dock.”

Album-opener “Queens Get the Money” is the only exceptional track. Accompanied by just a strange-sounding keyboard ostinato, Nas packs his words into one impressive verse that runs about two minutes long. It’s actually more like an intro than a song. Nas only pushed himself to a half-assed potential.