Back in September 2006 when Hoa Tran sent me a couple of his demo tracks, he had not found a voice of his own even though his vocals had potential. With his debut De Danh, he shows tremendous improvement in such a short period of time.

On the opener “Loi Ru Cho Con,” Ha Tran kicks off a folksy lullaby like a mother helping her kid walking on the road to music. Hoa Tran obviously spent a lot of time with his musical mother. No shame in that; many of you do too. Although her influence is apparent in his flow, delivery and phrasing, he has carved out a niche for himself by leaning toward femininity (not as much as Cindy Thai Tai). His gender-undistinguished vocals didn’t impress me at first, but they started to sink in after a few listens. He floats like a nightingale with a broken wing on the nocturnal “Doc Thoai” and scats like a horn on the funk-jazz “Bai Hat Cua Dong Song.”

With snoozing tracks like “Em O Dau,” “Tro Ve” and worst of all “You and I,” De Danh is not a strong album, but it is much more refreshing than those commercial works put out by big productions. At least Hoa Tran is willing to move beyond the mundane recycling of old tunes and willing to invest in new beats. Furthermore, he doesn’t sing to make a living, yet he makes way more innovative moves than most of the current singers who can’t seem to drag their lazy behinds out of their comfort zone. I suppose when music is your passion and not your income, you tend to push yourself more.

After an advanced screening of Ridley Scott’s new motion picture, Jay-Z revisited the booth to cut his own vision of American Gangster. Drawing his inspiration from Frank Lucas, the film’s heroin kingpin played by Denzel Washington, Jay-Z reflects on his drug-dealing days. As a gifted lyricist who could skip the writing step and rap right off his head, Jay-Z completed the album within a month.

His previous record, Kingdom Come, released less than a year ago and received mixed reviews. He claimed that the lyrics were too sophisticated for some listeners. Now back in his comfort zone, Jay-Z delivers each track through a cinematic scope taking the listeners back to a “mind state of a gangster from the 40s.” Although Jay-Z doesn’t write down his words, he still rhymes with intricacy. On “Pray,” he spits with vivid details: “As I head to my homeroom / I observe the ruins / dope needles on the ground / I hear the car go vroom / drug dealer in a BM with the top down.” Jay-Z’s improvisation is even more apparent on “No Hook.” He raps as though words just roll off his tongue: “Hustle cane, hustle clothes or hustle music / but hustle hard in any hustle that you pick.”

Speaking of hustle, Jay-Z is a hustler before rapper. While “Fallin’” catches glimpses of the dark days of hustling, “Roc Boys” shows the appreciation for his hustling success: “First of all I want to thank my connect / The most important person with all due respect. / Thanks to the duffle bag and the brown-paper bag / The Nike shoebox for holding all the cash.” A Jay-Z joint, of course, wouldn’t complete without addressing his rivals. In “Success” he rants: “Is this success all about? / A bunch of niggaz acting like bitches with big mouth?” Jay-Z has proven once again to be an irreplaceable hustler.

5 Dong Ke is apparently a very conceptual group. Its previous record, Tu Tinh Ca, was based around a style of a cappella. Its new released, Canh Mat Troi (Wings of the Sun), is structured in a storytelling experience: Track one tells a tale of a new day, in which all the creatures lilting to the rhythm of life; track two reflects on a childhood memory with the details of the kite flies high in the peaceful sky; and on the stories go.

Even the music arrangements have been conceptualized. Like its contemporary peers, 5DK always explores new sound (acoustic instrumentations and new-age groove). Unlike Tung Duong and Ngoc Khue, the group’s approach is more accessible. My personal favorite is the synthesis between western rhythm and eastern string in “Doc Huyen Cam,” one of the four tracks on the album written and composed by Bao Lan who is one of the members of the group. The plucking monochord sounds eerie and exotic against the space-out groove.

Although the musical production breathes fresh air into the album, what makes 5DK unique is how beautiful the girls sound together. Their tones are flawless on the spellbinding “Ban Mai” (“Morning”) accompanied only by Viet Anh’s arresting piano. And just imagine that somehow all four girls trying to convince you to stay with them—”Nguoi oi nguoi o dung ve”—would you have the heart to walk away? Hell no.

In an intimate setting at Trinity St. Paul’s church in Toronto, Ontario, Thu Phuong intoxicated me. Accompanied by the young Canadian jazz band, she sang her heart out on autumn-themed ballads like Doan Chuan and Tu Linh’s “La Do Muon Chieu,” Pham Trong Cau’s “Em Ra Di Mua Thu,” Trinh Cong Son’s “Doan Khuc Mua Thu Ha Noi,” Phu Quang’s “Dau Phai Boi Mua Thu” and Pham Duy’s “Mua Thu Chet.” All tunes arranged in slow tempo except for one swing and one bossa nova.

The small group of audience (around 200) not only escalated her passion and enthusiasm, but also allows room for close interaction, and she sure knew how to work the listeners. I drove eight hours to see her and she didn’t disappoint me. After loving her Trinh Cong Son songbook (Nhu Mot Loi Chia Tay) and the autumn concept of Em Ra Di Mua Thu, I have wanted to hear her rendition of Trinh Cong Son’s “Nho Mua Thu Ha Noi.” My desire was fulfilled when I approached her and made a personal request during intermission. She performed the song the way I had imagined: powerful and personal.

Thu Phuong ended the night with a snippet of “Bang Bang,” her most popular hit America, in a cappella. As she sang, “Dem nay, em se khong bao gio quen” (“This night, I will never forget”), the audience responded in the same sentiment with loud applause in standing ovation. Many thanks to Thu Phuong, lady sings the fall, for an indelible evening of intimate, intoxicating autumn.

Update: A set of the concert photos (much better quality than mine) from photographer Phuc Pham.

John Coltrane ripped the shit out of his horn. He had the meanest way of breaking down the chords and he played like a man on fire bursting with adrenaline rushes. Again, not recommended for casual listeners with the exception of Jimmy Garrison’s arresting bass solo in “Introduction to My Favorite Things.”

I am not ashame to admit that I am totally gay for Thuy Vu’s Thang Sau Troi Mua. He has such a marvelous tenor of a voice. His cello-like tone gets me every song. In particular is Trinh Cong Son’s “Diem Xua” where he holds the long notes in “Mua van hay mua cho doi bien dong…” and “Xin hay cho mua qua mien dat rong…” It’s so hypnotizing. This album has been my companion on the road. Viet Anh’s “Khong Con Mua Thu” cuts through the autumn’s misty morning and Trinh Cong Son’s “Dem Thay Ta La Thac Do” cuts through the night’s pathos. I have never been hooked on a ballad-covered album this long.

Jennifer Lopez’s new album, Brave, reminds me of a fascinating story from my colleague. To cut time reading her MBA’s course materials, she would scan the texts, drop into a text-to-speed program, and then export to audio so she could listen while on the road. She even doubled up the speed, which, she said, sounded like a chipmunk, to keep up with her overloaded homeworks. Ms. Lopez sings like a speech reader with a mild Spanish accent. On the up tempos, she reads at a double time. On the mid tempos, she shows no range or emotion. Maybe she has no relationship dramas with Marc Anthony and just wanted to make an album to beat her marriage boredom. Not sure if the couple would last forever, but for now: “Stay together is the new breakup.”

Thanh Lam has been flirting with jazz throughout her career, but never cut a jazz record until now. With her new album, Lam Blue Ta, she has no shame labeling it as “Vietnamese jazz” as she’s attempting to establish her position in the Vietnamese jazz scene. Unfortunately, she can’t move beyond her pop territory; therefore, Lam Blue Ta is more like a pop album with a tint of blues rather than the other way around.

The jump-off track, Nguyen Cuong’s “H’Zen Len Ray,” has a nice, subtle, swing groove and Thanh Lam rides the beat in a minimal flow, but she simply can’t scat. In his “Trang Khat,” Le Minh Son has cleverly rearranged the country blues for Thanh Lam that bears no resemblance of Tung Duong’s rendition. He also replaced the piano for a driving saxophone. To stir away from Tung Duong’s fierce delivery, Thanh Lam wisely restrained her fire to give a different feel. From Tran Tien’s “Ngau Hung Song Hong” to Le Minh Son’s “Con Trai Be Bong” to Duong Thu’s “Bong Toi Ly Café,” however, the album started to lose the blues flavors once Thanh Lam moves into her pop zone.

Tran Tien’s “Tuy Hung Ly Ngua O” returns to the swing rhythm to wrap up the scratching-the-surface effort. Thanh Lam has potential, but she will success only if she is willing to take the time to absorb the blues. Bessie Smith, Dinah Washington and Muddy Waters are some of the true blues legends to learn from. If she wants to scat and swing, Ella Fitzgerald and Anita O’Day are among the singer’s singers to draw inspiration from. If Thanh Lam could only take jazz this far, we need some serious development or might as well let it go and quit calling “Vietnamese jazz.” To be fair, Thanh Lam isn’t the only one to be responsible, but also the musicians.

Even after fucking up her vocal cord, Phuong Thanh could roar better than she could sing. On her new album, Sang Mua, she either belts or drags. Whether she shrieks her tone until it cracks on a rock tune (Dung Da Lat’s “Mua”) or lags the shit out of a slow ballad (Thai Thinh’s “Tinh Tuyet Vong”), what keeps the record together is the irritation in her needling voice.

The problem of Vietnamese music is obvious. New singers pop up every day while songwriters fades away. Dieu Huong who made a few hits, including the notorious “Vi Do La Em,” is a talented lyricist, but a limited composer. Her new album, Hu Ao, sounds dull partly because of the cheap arrangements, but mostly because of her restricted range.

Musically, “Cho Mot Lan Quen” has a melody that is a reminiscent of a dozen of songs Quang Dung had covered. “Coi Doi Vui” is one of those cheersy (cheerfully cheesy) tunes that always assigned to the forever-young Don Ho. “Cho Em Hoi” is a slow ballad that progresses steady all the way until the end where Diem Lien gives a hair-raising belt out. The lazy-rumba “Tinh Mai Theo Ta” allows Y Lan yet another opportunity to do her namby-pamby delivery.

Trong Bac who is unknown to me handled the title track. He has a charming voice, but similar to Anh Tuan with lesser power. Although Nguyen Khang gives a great performance of “Mot Nua Tam Hon,” it sounds like some of her more popular tunes, especially the chorus. Not sure why Dieu Huong covers “Vi Do La Em” herself since the song is better presented in a male viewpoint.

One of the major weaknesses of Hu Ao is the crowded vocalists. The result is more like a piecemeal slapped together than a coherent production. Maybe her intention was to have a mix of voices to mask the similitude between the tracks, but still didn’t work.