Ngo Thanh Van’s studio-generated voice still sounds like a machine on her latest record. Studio ’68 is an album that you listen to once with your finger on the skip button and never want to come back again. In every song her vocals get lost in the club production. It sounds as if she accompanies the beat instead of the other way around. Despite not having to sing much, Ngo Thanh Van gives up singing altogether on the ninth track “Tinh Ca.” The album-closer “Vi Anh” is the only slow track on the album and she delivers with such a soulless effort that makes you wonder why she even bothered.

After many empty promises, I finally got to experience Quan Van NoVa live. I didn’t just come alone either. I invited the whole gang, not knowing that my man HML and his crew had already packed the café.

First thing first. I apologize for not only the late arrival, but also the early departure. That’s what happens when you go with a group of people, but at least I got to hear a few unforgettable performances, and Minh Nguyet’s bluesy rendition of Trinh Cong Son’s “Vet Lan Tram” stands out. She started off with a little scat tease and launched into a soul-soothing power with her deep, raucous vocals. The accompaniment responded with her sentiment. HML and the drummer held down the rhythm section while Que Huong sprinkled a few tasty notes around her voice. The result is quite intoxicating for a Sunday afternoon.

One of the negative tradeoffs of drawing quite a crowd is the noise level, which was a bit distracting. Still, Minh and Thanh’s duo guitar was quite savory. On the tango piece, the guitars played together like they were dancing in the air. And the one that impressed me the most is the young Jennifer whose sings her heart out on Trinh Cong Son’s “Cat Bui Tinh Xa.” Despite her nervousness and inexperience (lacks of control), she sounded cute.

I got a chance to talk briefly to anh Tin who wowed me with his interpretation of “Ky Niem” and he told me he would perform another Pham Duy’s tune, but I didn’t stay long enough to hear it. My bad!

Sure, Y Lan’s one those mamas who refuses to grow up, but she could sing like a soul-wrecked woman if she wants to. Her new record, Dung Lay Toi Nhe Cuoc Doi, proves that the ageless songbird can still bring the pain and pathos to Pham Duy’s classic tunes.

Y Lan, believe it or not, sounds much more natural when she chucks out the girlishness in her delivery. “Quan Ben Duong” is a perfect proof. She floats her naked emotion over the breathtaking semiclassical orchestration while recites each word as if she had lived it. “Chieu Ve Tren Song” is the other excellent piece in which she bares her heart and soars her soul on the hypnotic arrangement. Her tone remains flawlessly beautiful on high notes and she rides the orchestra in such effortless elegance, particularly against the intoxicating bass lines on “Mo Khuc.”

Although the last two tracks—ballroom-tango “Pho Buon” and joyful-folks “Ba Me Que”—break the dark, lustful mood, Y Lan has delivered her best album up to date with the support of the economical-yet-magical producer Dong Son. What a great way to start the new year.

In searching for his new sound, Miles Davis partnered up with Gil Evans, the master of mood arrangement who put the renowned trumpeter miles, miles and Miles Ahead of the jazz scene in the late 1950s. Porgy and Bess and Sketches of Spain also marked the redefining sound of Davis and Evans. Davis’s trumpet solos lead the ensemble, instead of just riding the wave. With the support of Evan’s colorful, mournful and lustful orchestration, Davis’s soul-baring melodic lines take listeners into the epics of fantasies that are filled with exotic tones, colors and textures.

Even at a transitional stage, Miles Davis managed to pull off the beautiful classic Seven Steps to Heaven. “Basin Street Blues” starts off with Davis’s startled, muted tone. Then he opens up on the title track and upgrooves you all the way up to heaven. The tune remains fresh and invigorating every time I come back to it.

The live session in New York City, Birdland Club February 21, 1954 showcased the masters of hard bop at work. “Wee-Dot” is a perfect illustration. Art Blakey kicks off a series of heavy bombs on the trapset. The quintet joins in briefly before Lou Donaldson blazes his notes on the saxophone solo. Clifford Brown takes over the second solo with speed and efficiency. Then Horace Silver lays out some of the most intoxicating hard-blues phrases on the keyboard while Blakey and bassist Curley Russell anchoring the aggressive, driving rhythm. This is a must-experience album from start to finish and many savory repeats are necessary. Even the slow-burning “If I Had You” is achingly beautiful.

By leaving out the trumpet, Ron Carter’s Dear Miles, a tribute to his former boss, gives no clue of Miles Davis’s original classics. Although the rhythm quartet (bass, piano, percussion and drums) is uplifting, it lacks the artistic direction from the Prince of Darkness. The album reminds of us of how brilliant Davis was as a leader.

A romantic masterpiece with an ineffable grace, John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman is the result of a gigged up between a lyrical saxophone player and a long-note ballad singer. Coltrane’s rich, aching tone is a perfect foil to Hartman’s deep, lush baritone. Every track hits a sensual spot, and their sumptuous phrasings make Billy Strayhorn’s “Lush Life” such mesmerizing lustful pleasures.

One of Charles Mingus’s major albums in the late 1950s, Blues & Roots swings off with a gospel-laced “Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting” and never cops out. From the slow, soaring “Cryin’ Blues” to the swift, rousing “E’s Flat Ah’s Flat Too,” the nine-piece band plays like a wild beast with lots of soul.

The sounds Miles Davis and his men Brew up in this double Bitches are not easy to articulate. From the funk-rock rhythm to the haunting horn to the shapeless melody to the weightless harmony to the serene chaos, you will have to experience them yourself. The organic groove, which made up of four drummers, three electric keyboardists and two bassists, will travel up and down your vein, but never to your nerve, not even near.