My latest hip-hop’s gratification is the southern soul from the Underground Kingz. With heavy, hypnotic productions, meticulous flows, lustful lyricism, and a handful of guest list including OutKast, Too $hort and Talib Kweli, the dynamic duo from Port Arthur, Bun B and Pimp C, delivered a double joint that filled with guilty pleasures. From the catchy keyboard tinkling on “Tell Me How Ya Feel” to the luscious guitar sampling on “Trill Niggas Don’t Die” bring back the authentic vibe of the underground south. Still, twenty-nine tracks straight is simply too much. The album would have been tighter if the dull fillers had left off.

Eardrum once again secures Talib Kweli as a virtuoso of lyricism. His rapping, however, is still restricted to just a monoflow. Doesn’t matter if the beat is fast or slow, he rides in a steady pace. His swift, rapid-fire delivery works well on the up-tempo such as “Hostile Gospel” and “Say Something,” but not on the mellow vibe like “In the Mood” (Kanye West rhymes more on-beat than Kweli). Still, his sixth studio solo is more consistent than his previous releases, and “Soon The New Day” is a beautiful hip-hop-meets-jazz collaboration with Norah Jones.

Besides paying respect to those who died in the strategic events, September 11 will be a showdown between two multi-platinum-selling rappers, Kanye West and 50 Cent, go pound for pound on their third solos. Fiddy who has a gigantic ego is putting his career on the line for this competition. He told SOHH.com: “If Kanye West sells more records than 50 Cent on September 11, I’ll no longer write music. I’ll write music and work with my other artists, but I won’t put out anymore solo albums.” Will Mr. West put Mr. Curtis out of job?

Unlike his previous albums, West’s Graduation is wisely slimmed down to thirteen tracks. I wonder if his brother Jay has anything to do with it. The jump-off “Good Morning” sounds promising as he makes some cracks about education: “Scared to face the world, complacent career student / some people graduate, but still look stupid.” Unfortunately, his head is so big now and he is so impressed with himself that he could not move beyond his own fortune and fame. In his ode to Jay-Z, he rhymes: “But he got me out of my mama’s crib / Then he helped me get my mama a crib.” He seems to be following his “Big Brother” footsteps. The different is that Jay got swag and West got beat. Jay could count his money and still make his flow fascinating whereas West’s beats are banging, but his lyrics aren’t.

In contrast to West, Curtis is not stuck inside his own celebrity’s status. On “Fully Loaded Clip,” he claims: “I ain’t fresh out the hood / I am still in the hood.” To him, more money more paranoia; therefore, in the first three consecutive tracks (“My Gun,” “Man Down” and “I’ll Still Kill”) he spits rhymes filled with graphical violence. He’s more at ease when boasting about how he sold bottle of water for two bucks and Coca-Cola bought it for billions, or when throwing his fans a bone: “Without them, there’s no me so I love them / Man, they’re the reason I exist, the reason I insist.” He also lyricized himself as hustler: “While Jay and Beyonce was mwah-mwah kissin’ / I was cookin’ one thousand grams in my kitchen.” He is, no doubt, an egomaniac, but he sure lives up to his arrogance.

The buzz has been that West’s Graduation will outsell Fiddy’s Curtis, and as much as we all want to see Fiddy flops on his face, it isn’t going to happen. Fiddy already told Rolling Stone about his victory over West: “I’m King Kong. Kanye is human. Humans run when they see King Kong, because they’re scared.” Imagine what he’ll look like with the cockiness in his face telling the world: “I told you so.”

M.I.A. is back in full effects: Big beats and bold rhymes with shots of bullets and politics. Underneath the international flavors, including Bollywood discotheque (“Jimmy”) and Jamacian dancehall (“Paper Planes”), Kala reveals some of M.I.A.’s dark lyricisms: “People judge me so hard / Cause I don’t floss my titty set / I was born out of dirt like I am porn in a skirt.” From war zones to street corners, no matter where she takes us to, she makes sure we can dance along not only to the music but also to the sound of gun pops.

With the rate Thuy Nga’s releasing, Paris By Night videos aren’t going away anytime soon despite how repetitive they get. So writing detailed review of each show is pointless. What I’ll do is I’ll treat each release like an upgrade of a software by highlighting what featured had been added or deprecated.

So what’s new in Paris By Night 89? It was filmed in Korea. Y Lan turned Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Nua Hon Thuong Dau” to “Mot Nua Hon Thuong Dau.” From her over-sentimental delivery to her over-dramatic presentation, she had tripled the tune’s spirit. Listening to Tran Thu Ha sings “Ao Anh” while watching the models walk the floor is brilliant. Whoever came up with that concept, I owe you a beer.

What should be deprecated? Ky Duyen’s same old jokes poking at Nguyen Ngoc Ngan has to go. After more than ten years of mocking his height, age and appearance, I think we got it: he’s short, old and ugly. Come up with some new shtick, will you?

After all the glamors on stage, we’re presented with the cruel reality: the suffering of our brothers and sisters in Korea via Van Son-style documentary. Witnessing workers with fingers chopped off and wives with battered bruises is heartrending. Like machines, Korean men must have no feelings.

Love could make you happy or busy depending on the stage you’re in. Because Quang Dung and Hong Nhung are falling in love (not with each other), they sing to celebrate their happiness. Because Duc Tri fell out of love, he makes music to keep himself busy.

Ho Ngoc Ha had done us a huge favor. After she dropped his ass as well as his label, Duc Tri had produced some of the finest albums this year including Duc Tuan’s Tinh Ca Pham Duy and Pham Anh Khoa’s debut. He had mastered semi-classic, flirted with rock, and now he returns to romantic ballads with Vi Ta Can Nhau for the newly-wedded duet.

They are compatible should not be a surprise. In the world of pop, Quang Dung is the prince; Hong Nhung is the diva. The surprise is how laid back they are in their collaboration. The special bond has to be there in order for them to cut nine duet tracks with such consistency. From the opening “Giac Mo Xa Voi” (Duc Tri) to the closing “Nhu Mot Loi Chia Tay” (Trinh Cong Son), they share the joy, the passion and the mutual respect for the man whose music had given them their stardom.

As a result, Vi Ta Can Nhau is not memorable for how great they sound together, but for how great their musical friendship is. And they had made their point not loud but clear.

With lame-out rap, noon-napping jazz and Chinese-inflected ballad, Nguyen Thang’s My Story should be flopped, but it turns out to be ridiculously addictive. He has an ear for catchy beats and a taste for pop hooks. Most important of all, he knows when to let others do the telling even though the story is his.

The jump-off “Apologize,” ironically featured Thaifoon (should have been the other way around since Nguyen Thang only sings the hook), is about a mundane relationship drama being told through Thaifoon’s robotic flow and elementary rhymes, but the groovy beat and Nguyen Thang’s supporting vocals bring life to the tune. Like his peers, Nguyen Thang is flirting with hip-hop and R&B. Thankfully he doesn’t try to rap. Not that the rap cats on “If Only You Knew” are any good, but they sound so damn aggressive like some gangster shit. It turns out that they were mad at some girl who broke their heart. What kind of a rapper that bitch about that type of shit? As moronic as it sound, the song works. It’s pop music. What do you expect?

Although Nguyen Thang tends to be more westernized, he could move comfortably from English to Vietnamese—something not too many young Vietnamese-American pop stars could accomplish. They either suck at English or Vietnamese, but mostly the latter. His remake of “Xin Cho Mai Yeu,” “Tinh Dau Mai Yeu” (duet with Huy Vu) and “Bien Can” are refreshing despite how many times these two tunes have been covered. The productions play a major role in them, especially when the rap verse in “Xin Mai Cho Em” kicks in and accompanied by the gorgeous saxophone.

Though his flow is too stiff on the smooth-jazz “Autumn Leaves,” at least he’s giving it a try, and the unexpected sax solo on the swing-up break is a nice touch. Overall, My Story is how a pop album should be, except he should have left the fill-in-the-gap chicks with annoying vocals off the album.

Since I only skimmed through Miss Vietnam Global 2007 (even the bikini part), I don’t remember much about the contestants. One in particular, however, stood out to me not because of her beauty (she didn’t even make it to the top 25), but her flowery name: Daisy Lan Huong Lieu. Didn’t remember what she looked like but the name sure stuck.

The music part gets skimmed even quicker. I couldn’t even get through Tran Thu Ha’s performance even with my eyes closed. (I have heard repeatedly from people that she is the type that you listen to and not watch.) Her snoozing, jazzlite cover of Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Dau Tinh Sau” is exactly what she once commented: “Nhạc jazz VN tới nay thường là ‘râu ông nọ cắm cằm bà kia’ hoặc đu đưa cho có vẻ jazz một tí.” And sadly the entertainers get worse from Dam Vinh Hung to Hong Ngoc to Nguyen Thang. Still the most disturbing performance is from Angelina Cat Tien who is an adorable, innocent, little girl dressed up as Barbie and singing “Barbie Girl” backing up by a dozens of dancers around her age (no older than 12). Obviously she is too young to understand the lyrics, but it is quite unsettling when hearing she sings lines like: “Life in plastic, it’s fantastic! / You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere / … / kiss me here, touch me there, hanky panky… / You can touch, you can play, if you say: “I’m always yours.” / … / Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please / I can act like a star, I can beg on my knees.” I just can’t believe the parents who allowed their daughter to portrait such a horror image.

Speaking of image makes me wonder what is the value to a show that competes for external beauty. Nothing wrong with that really except when one of the show’s sponsors, Bich Ngoc Cosmetic Surgery Center, gives away a certificate worth $10,000 to a lucky winner who wishes to change her image if she wasn’t born with a beautiful one. I must hand it to Ms. Bich Ngoc and Dr. Vu Ban for their business mentality. That’s a $10,000 worth of free advertisement for them. If you were that lucky winner, would you come to their clinic after looking at her? I doubt it.

Listening to Mai Quoc Huy’s debut, Hanh Phuc Quanh Day, makes me want to strangle the shit out of that heartless bitch for him. In track one, she left his ass and the kid. In track two, she left his ass once again even though he has done nothing wrong. In track three, he finally realizes that it is time to part.

The drama gets worse as he reflects on the past. He talks to himself at night (Truc Phuong’s “Dem Tam Su”). Even the damn street he walks on carried her name (Truc Phuong’s “Con Duong Mang Ten Em”). Whenever he misses her (Hoang Mai and Thao Trang’s “Nho Nguoi Yeu”) or thinks of her (Ngoc Son’s “Nho Ve Em”), especially at the time when she was 15 (Hoang Phuong’s “Em Con Tuoi 15”), it brings back gloomy memories (To Thanh Son’s “Chut Ky Niem Buon”). Then he ends up drinking like a fish (Chau Ky’s “Tuy Ca”).

What would happen to him next is up the listeners to decide. The possibility is endless. He could drive, while under the influence, to the nearest Wal-Mart, cop a glock and blow his brain out. That way she’ll regret it for the rest of her life, and we all know she doesn’t give a damn.

Hanh Phuc Quanh Day has to be one of the most depressing albums to date. Mai Quoc Huy influenced by Che Linh so much that he could knock Truong Vu off the map and replace their god. Even if the king of “sen” Che Linh decides to retired, we will still hear his voice through his successors, and Mai Quoc Huy is the closest if not exact.

Bang Kieu is the kind of pop singer you either love or love to hate. Love him because he could flight above octaves like a rocket. Love to hate him because dude sounds like a lady, especially on the upper register. So like him or loathe him depends upon whether you could get past the pussiness in his countertenor or not.

Bang Kieu knows that he has the type of timbre that isn’t easy to listen; therefore, he must choose his songs wisely, and he has done so based on his consistent performances on Paris by Night. So on his newest record, Hoai Cam, I am not surprised that his repertoire includes Van Phung’s “Toi Di Giua Hoang Hon,” Pham Duy’s “Mua Thu Chet” and Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi.” They are suitable for his octave-jumping style. “Ban Tinh Cuoi,” in particular, is one of those ballads that listeners just wait to witness how he jumps across the towering bridge without collapsing in the middle. What surprised me though is his rendition of Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Nua Hon Thuong Dau.” Somehow his voice transmutes into a broken-hearted woman whose soul is drowning in a sea of sorrow. His falsetto is just amazing, as if it comes straight from the clit.

Although Hoai Cam is a new album, it isn’t really new. Despite how good his deliveries are, old standards are nothing but old standards. He might have brought some fresh approaches to them, but they have been covered so much that they eventually worn off. It must be really hard to be a Vietnamese hit. They just don’t want to leave you alone, especially big moneymakers like Thuy Nga production.