Mr. Narcissist transforms himself once again from the queen of drama into the angel of drama in his new release Hanh Phuc Cuoi. Moved by a gay relationship in a Chinese soap opera, Dam Vinh Hung penned the lyrics for the title track. The romantic ballad turns out to be as campy as it gets. But that’s nothing compared to his rendition of Bao Long’s “Nuoi Tiec Muon Mang,” a pop-trash ballad ruined by the smooth saxophone and his wimp-out whine. With cheap productions accompanying a badly deteriorated voice, this album, from concept to design, is garbage. In an interview, he bragged that Dam Vinh Hung never allows himself to put out bad records. True, they aren’t bad, just fucking suck.

Phan Dinh Tung wants to take a step beyond his comfort zone, but at the same, he doesn’t want to abandon his fan base. So he drops two albums at once to accommodate both. Tung Ballad is a poppy record to fulfill his obligation while Tung Trinh is his take on Trinh Cong Son’s standards to reach more mature listeners.

Ballad is clearly not so hard for PDT to pull off. In fact, he delivers the pop tunes without breaking a sweat. His flows are effortless, but much more important than that, he knows the value of the hooks. Once you got the hook down, the rest of the song will follow. In Minh Khang’s “Nguoi Ra Di La Anh,” he kicks off with the hook that will stay in your head for at least a month. Once you heard it, you can’t help humming to it. That’s how ridiculously catchy the tracks on Ballad are and his voice—clear, powerful with sugarcoated tone—is perfect for them. “Anh Phai Lam Sao,” also penned by Minh Khang, is an instant hit. When he sings, “no one will love you more than he has,” you almost believe him.

Unlike Ballad, you could hear that PDT tries really hard on the Trinh record. The transition from Ballad to Trinh isn’t quite a smooth ride. The first half of the album is just passable. “Diem Xua” is where he started to sound relaxed and began to feel the lyrics. His version of “Ha Trang” is surprisingly convincing because he just let his soul float with the simple picking guitar. The jazzy-flavored “Toi Oi Dung Tuyet Vong” is well executed. The intro, which featured a female vocalist that sound like Hong Nhung, is novelty and the minimal piano tinkling in the arrangement gives the tune a bluesy touch.

Both albums showcase two different sides of PDT. If he were to combine the two together to catch all, it would have been all over the place like a buffet. With the two separate, each album sounds focused and crafted. So this is not a bad move at all.

On the cover of her new album, Hard Candy, Madonna rocks a championship belt around her waist and sits with her legs spread open. She sure deserves the champion-of-sex title. No one could eye and mind fuck us longer than she could. She did it when she was “Like a Virgin.” She is doing it again like a MILF.

Right off the opening “Candy Store,” she wastes no time offering us her raw sugar (“sticky and sweet”). Then in “4 Minutes” she flirts with the young Justin Timberlake: “Just say the words and imma give you what you want.” In the next track, “Give It 2 Me,” she follows up with more seductions: “If it’s against the law, arrest me / If you can handle it, undress me.” While she does all these sizzle talks, a handful of hot, clubbing beats (courtesy of Pharrell Williams, Timbaland, Justin Timberlake and Nate “Danja” Hills) are backing her up. The only problem is that you don’t take a fifty years old woman to a club, even though she is Madonna. You want to take her somewhere else away from the crowd. Know what I mean?

All in all, Hard Candy is nothing more than a dance album with Madonna’s sex touch lost in the beats. Though her words are filled wit lust, suggestive metaphors, her delivery lacks the passion. Even when she sings, “Sex with you is… uh… incredible,” she comes off like a kindergarten teacher who offers her kids some candies for their cooperation. In the closing “Voices,” Timberlake brings up the questions: “Who is the master? Who is the Slave?” Not sure if she still holds the whip.

As long as Asia Entertainment still around, the war will forever be reminded. Its new release, La Thu Tu Chien Truong (Letters From Battle Fields), conceptualized around the theme that the production has beaten to death already; therefore, it would be pointless to hear what the MCs had to contribute.

Musically speaking, the show only had two or three standout performances. It’s about time Asia brought a real talent on board. Not all that physically attractive, but Bich Van (whose voice mesmerized me two years ago) gave an exceptional rendition of Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Anh Di Chien Dich.” She hit the high notes right on the spot and her enunciation was flawless. By the time she finished, there was no room left for Y Phuong to match up. It’s the musical director’s fault for the unfair pairing. Bich Van’s performance should have been grouped with Nguyen Hong Nhung’s version of Hoang Trong’s “Nguoi Tinh Khong Chan Dung.” Again, Nguyen Hong Nhung was so damn hypnotizing that she left Thien Kim out in the cold. Nguyen Hong Nhung looked great too, but the sexiest chick of the show went to the new-but-blazing-hot Ho Hoang Yen. If there were a dress (military-inspired color with plenty of open space to display cleavage) like what she had on in the army, there will be a lot of jerking off in the boot camp. What song was she singing anyway?

That’s all I could walk away with from the show. The rest were just same old shit.

Mariah Carey’s new album E=MC2 uses the same formula from her big success The Emancipation of Mimi: party first; pray later. Although the same ingredients were applied, E=MC2 sounds more generic than her previous work.

The album kicks off with a club-friendly “Migrate,” a Jermaine Dupri production, in which her voice and guest appearance T-Pain’s were digitally distorted. Both of their vocals are equally annoying. In addition to JD, she also brings in hitmakers like Swiss Beatz and Scott Storch on board to assist with the production, yet what the album is lacking is octave-grabbing Carey. “I Stay In Love” sounds robotic until near the end where Carey battles out with Carey on the simultaneous low and high vocals.

Like her previous effort, Carey likes to crossover to give her music more flavors. On here, her collaboration with dope-rapper Young Jeezy is much more effective than with reggae-crooner Damian Marley. Jeezy actually puts his crack tales aside and offers Carey some words of advice as she deals with the “Side Effect” her ex-husband left her with.

After all the bumps and grinds and dramas, Carey closes out the album with “I Wish You Well,” in which she flights her high range over the accompanying piano with a gospel choir backing her up. Still E=MC2 couldn’t hold up to Mimi, but more like leftover from Mimi.

People have their own ways of dealing with a broken heart. Most folks cry all day and stay up all night; some eat until they’re fed up; and some just go to sleep. Ever since “Tinh Yeu Lung Linh,” Tuan Hung sings like a lovesick puppy that just wants to drift off to bed.

Six albums later, he still sounds super snoring. His new album clocks in at forty minutes, yet he puts you to sleep at fifteen the most. In track one, he lays in bed counting stars and falling asleep; in track two, he gets up asking himself “Tinh La Gi” and then falls back to sleep; and on he goes. He has a strong, raspy voice, but like most of his peers, he is either too lazy to explore new sounds or he is afraid of stepping out of his limited range. On “Tinh La Gi” and “Anh Muon Noi,” the arrangements are so boring that as soon as the traditional instruments, which sound like Chinese TV series, kick off, you just can’t help to yawn.

So if you want to take nap, this album will do the job efficiently. One good thing, though, is that he has not gone down to Dam Vinh Hung’s path—at least not yet.

Sure, David Meng’s debut, Tinh Phai, will be the lamest album released this year (if not all time), but let gives the dude a break. Despite his limited vocal ability, mispronunciation (he’s not Vietnamese) and karaoke delivery, he is trying really hard. If you get past those three flaws, you’ll hear his passion for Vietnamese shallow pop songs.

My girl and I were listening to his rendition of “Xin Loi Em” while preparing salad for our lunch for the next day. Near the end of the song she had to give in: “Alright, alright! I forgive you.” Whether his sincerity or annoyance was delivered, it worked. So the next time she gets mad at me, I don’t even have say a word. I’ll just play this song on repeat until apology is accepted. When he sings “Nguoi Dan Ong Chan That,” you can feel the honesty even in his stilted flow. Somehow I keep on wanting to hear him busts out “6 cau vong co” (six bars of Vietnamese opera) to completely the sweet and vinegar soap opera on “Anh Khong Muon Lam Nguoi Thu 3.”

“Mac Ke Nguoi Ta Noi” should have been chosen for the title track for the album. It fits him so well. Regardless of what people are saying, David Meng is doing his thang. Hate the game, not the contestant.

Unlike her stage appearance, which is getting creepier and creepier, her music stays unchanged. Her latest release, Shades of Blue, uses the same damn shticks as any of her previous albums. No matter what song she sings, her syrupy vocals remain unemotionally annoying. No matter what lyrics she writes, her rhymes remain nursery. No matter what beats she rides, her flows remain constant. If I have to pick one track to describe this album, it would be “Hollow.” She actually expresses herself pretty well: “I am so hollow, so hollow / hollow in my heart / hollow in my soul / because I am so hooolloooow….” No doubt about that!

Le Kieu Nhu can hardly sing, yet she knows how to get you hooked just like the way she had Nguyen Nhat Huy on the tip of her finger. The man who was responsible for the mega hit “Nguoi Ve Cuoi Pho” is now focusing his energy on the young, trying-to-be-sexy chick. Who can blame him? A man has to do what a man has to do.

Let’s be fair. Le Kieu Nhu is not a bad vocalist. In “Tinh Nhu,” an opening track off her second album Tinh Khuc Nguyen Nhat Huy, she rides the cha-cha tempo like a drunken chick in a karaoke bar, but she manages to pull it off. Her out-of-tune delivery and odd phrasings make the cute tune so damn amusing. Despite her limited vocal ability, she could soar like a bird with a wounded wing in the slow-ballad “Tinh Si.” In contrast, she sounds weightless on “Cuoc Tinh Chiem Bao,” as she tries to float with the Jacuzzi-jazz arrangement. If her voice wouldn’t put you to a snoozing mode, the smooth saxophone would.

Then again, who wouldn’t feel bad for someone who croons the last words for her lover (“Lan Cuoi Cho Nguoi Tinh”) with such benevolent? Never mind the generic, computer-generated rhythm, just listen to the way she delivers the refrain: “Tha anh dung den trong doi / De em dung qua hy vong / De trong long khong mang dang cay / Loi yeu nao nhu con gio bay / Gio em tin ai nua day?” She makes you feel guilty but in a pleasure way.

After three consecutive flops, My Tam is finally making a solid comeback with Tro Lai. Maintaining her pop and r&b flavors, her new album is a consistent set—track for track—in both vocal performance and beat production. Her song choices are wise and her writing skill has revealed incredible improvement.

The advantage of singing her own songs is that she knows exactly how they should be delivered. “Nhu Em Doi Anh” is a slow, pop-rock ballad in which she carried the tone and emotion just like the way she has intended: sweet and mellow. “Khi Tinh Yeu Tro Lai,” also written by her, is an instant hit as well. She takes her time pouring her heart out on the simple, electric guitar that accompanied by a thumping r&b beat.

Although she does her own songs good, she does other songs even better. In Quoc Bao’s “Va Em Co Anh,” she proves to have enough juice to take on a gospel-tinged cut. The way she vocalizing and phrasing reminded me of r&b singer like Alicia Keys and Mariah Carey. Unfortunately when she tries to be like them on “Hurt So Much,” the spell breaks. Even with such a marvelous voice couldn’t save her English accents.

Music wise, the Korean producers have done a much better job on here than her previous Vut Bay. They must have recognized that they can’t turn a “toc nau moi tram” into a blonde Korean doll. The slow productions blended in with her voice smoother. Tro Lai indeed is an important return for My Tam and she has reclaimed her title as the princess of Vietnamese pop.