The four-disc compilation of Hot Jazz on Blue Note is exceptional in song choices and meticulous in the liner notes. Dan Morgenstern deserves his credits for both. In particular, his brief commentary on each track is a wonderful guide for novice listeners. Even if you’re not a jazz freak, you better crank up your AC because the fervent blues, stomping swing and sensational sound of New Orleans get pretty hot and zesty. Sidney Bechet’s “Blues My Naughty Sweetie Gives to Me” alone is spicy enough to make you sweat.

After spinning eighteen tracks on T.I. vs. T.I.P., the only thang that appeals to me is T.I.’s southern intonation. He also has a marvelous flow, but he rhymes too soft. At times, the big, booming beats dominate his voice. Lyrically, he is more of a flow virtuoso than a storyteller. Without personality, the album fails to hold listeners’ attention even though he got big help from other rappers including Jay-Z, Young Jeezy, Eminem, and Busta Rhymes.

Billie Holiday’s Lady in Satin has to be one of the toughest albums to appreciate. At the time she made these recordings (a year and a half before she left us), not only her health had suffered badly, but her voice had also deteriorated immensely. Both her chops and her vocals were gone with all the hard drugs she abused. All she had left was a harshing, tiring, and excruciating tone that was almost unlistenable, yet it was her personal phrasing that made the album deserved its classic stature. Right from the opening “I am a Fool to Want You,” we could tell that she was no longer interested in singing the tune. She stripped the melody down to its core of despair and expressed the lyrics like she was narrating her own unrequited love against the dead-slow orchestration arranged by Claus Ogerman and conducted by Ray Ellis. In the reissued version, which included alternative takes, the most unforgettable recording was the naked rendition of “The End of a Love Affair.” Her interpretation of the lyrics—”So I smoke a little too much, and I joke a little too much / And the tunes I request are not always the best / But the ones where the trumpets blare”—are as rough, rugged and raw as they get. She not only knew how a song should be articulated, but also knew how to breathe life into it.

I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead captured some of the most chill, paranoid rhymes from El-P, an impressive lyricist from the dark side of Brooklyn. With hard-hitting, rock-inflected productions backing him up, El-P pours out his stream of conscious like, “Why should I be sober when god is so clearly dusted out his mind? / With cherubs puffing a bundle trying remember why he even tried?” If mainstream hip-hop bored you to dead with cash, sex, and coke, here is the underground alternative.

Listening to Thuy Tien’s third record, Giac Mo Tuyet Trang, I can’t help but feel bad for a young talent who’s turning into mediocrity. Gone is the eccentric chick with some rockability. After the opening track, an impressive rock tune she has written entitled “Anh Sang,” the album cuts straight to the pop and hip-hop flavor. On the remake of “Lang Nghe Mua Xuan Ve,” she turns Duong Thu’s slow, sentimental piece into a dance-floor workout. By the time the little rap puppet takes over, I have to hit the skip button. It’s a damn shame.

If Giant Steps is too fast for you to follow and A Love Supreme is too much for you to take, Lush Life maybe the right Coltrane’s album for you. Beside a virtuoso, Trane was also a balladeer. He could play standards exceptionally well. The melodic lines on “Like Someone In Love” are so damn gorgeous that Trane performed as if he was truly in love, and he could pull it off even without the support of the piano’s harmony since Red Garland didn’t show up for the recording. If I were allowed but one Coltrane to share with my lady, Lush Life would be it. “I Love You” could sound like a banal romantic ballad, but not in a Latin vibe.

Not too long ago, Ha Tran made the following audacious statement: “Nhạc jazz VN tới nay thường là ‘râu ông nọ cắm cằm bà kia’ hoặc đu đưa cho có vẻ jazz một tí.” Now she is contributing a hot-tub, smooth bossa nova number on Tran Viet Tan’s new record, Biet. Despite her contradictory, I find her singing on the Latin-flavored “Vet Chan” way better than the electric shit she has done. She knows how to work the sensual lithe in her flow against the faintly syncopated arrangement. Elsewhere, she gives “Me Ganh Nuoc” a heart-lifting performance with such effortless control. And she pulls it off with just a simple accompaniment of piano and violin.

Beside Ha Tran, Biet features two other vocalists, Thanh Lam and Tung Duong, yet they couldn’t hold up to Ha Tran. Yes, even Thanh Lam too. Unlike Ha Tran, her flow is stilted on the Latin groove of “Dong Song.” She does not have the playfulness to ride the mid-tempo beat. The worse part is that Thanh Lam uses her vibrato all over the place, to the point where I just couldn’t take it anymore. Doctor Tan should have subscribed her some chill pills before she stepped into the booth. Tung Dung also seems to be limiting his range and recycling the same delivery lately. The versatile Tung Dung is hidden in Chay Tron.

As for songwriter/doctor Tran Viet Tan, I don’t know if he is a good doctor or not since I’ve never paid his office a visit. I do know for sure, however, is his passion for music. He knows how to make songs for his patients. Biet is a perfect album to be played in his waiting room. The first track would calm them down. The second track would ease their pain. The third track would anesthetize them until the time their name is called. The doc is in.

Dalena sings Vietnamese pretty damn good for white girl. Her other talent is English translation, in which she tends to stay faithful to the original context as much as she could without losing the natural flow. Oh My Sweet Love, a fantastic collaboration with Don Ho, showcases some of her finest takes on Christophe’s and Art Sullivan’s ballads. The opening “Hand In Hand” (“Main Dans La Main”) and title track, “Oh! Mon Amour,” once again proved Don Ho’s ability to connect with his female counterpart. They merged together like one and one still one. But then again Dalena’s nostalgia rendition of “Day of Winter” (“Tombe La Neige”) shows that even sweet love turns cold, and the only thing that is still fresh is memory:

I watch the snowfalls
It brings memories of you.
Our days of winter
Were the happiest we knew
Days we spent together
I thought we have forever
Fireside kisses linger
Sparkling promise on my finger
Now I sit and watch the snow
I have nowhere else to go
While cold and lonely seeming
I found happiness in dreaming.

Way before Nguyen Khang came along and scooped up songbird Diem Lien, Don Ho was her ideal match. Actually, Don Ho has always been a fantastic complement to his female singers since he is always capable of bringing the best out of them. His sensational duet with Diem Lien on Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi” demonstrated their mutual companionship. By supporting one another, they blew fresh air into the standard. Instead of letting the male voice takes on the bridge, they meet each other half way. She sets up, “Ngay nao nguoi cho ta biet…,” he picks up, “Tinh la dang… cay…,” and brings it up all the way until the beat takes over. Mad props go to Thanh Lam for the intoxicating arrangement. Too bad, their joined album, Vinh Biet Mua He, only featured one duet. The other highlight of the album is the melancholy “Tinh Khuc Buon,” which is also a Ngo Thuy Mien’s song and produced by Thanh Lam. Don Ho’s cottony, sultry and whispery delivery is simply irresistible. Someone ought to upload the MTV clip of “Tinh Khuc Buon” on YouTube. The video was really well captured.

I didn’t call this guy “a jazz freak from Seattle” for nothing. He got me hooked on Time Out and now he got me kicking back to Dave Digs Disney, a refreshing cover of children tunes that even adults could enjoy. What makes the album so damn additive is the contrast between Dave Brubeck’s arpeggios and Paul Desmond’s simultaneous flow, in which one leaves potholes for the other to fill in while drummer Joe Morello and bassist Eugene Wright drive the rhythm section. Their rendition of “Some Day My Prince Will Come” had attracted not only the listeners, but also the jazz musicians.