I received Dai Duong’s Cung Chim Troi, a Trinh Cong Son’s songbook, as a gift coincidently on my 29th birthday. I am not big on birthday celebration, but it does make me contemplate on what have I done up to this point in my life—shamefully nothing much. On his intro, Dai Duong also reflects on what he has accomplished so far in thirty years of his life. Strangely, he shares my sentiment and I can relate to what he was expressing. I too feel no regrets for the path I had taken.

After such an intimate introduction, Dai Duong pours his heart out on “Cho Mot Nguoi Nam Xuong” accompanied by a simple strumming guitar. He sounds best when he strips down Trinh’s compositions to their emotional chord so that he could give his own interpretation of Trinh’s lyrics with his big old voice. Even when listening to Khanh Ly’s unmatchable recording of “Mua Hong” before 1975 and Tran Thu Ha’s playful rendition, it is Dai Duong who reminds me that “Cuoc doi do co bau lau ma hung ho.”

I was hoping that he had kept it minimal throughout the album. His flow gets stilted on the bosa-nova “Roi Nhu Da Ngay Ngo.” On Duc Tri’s “Toi Tim Thay Toi” (bonus track), he doesn’t have the jazz maneuverability to swing his way around like what Ho Quynh Huong has accomplished. But as an album recorded for a special dedication, Cung Chim Troi is as personal as it gets.

Dam Vinh Hung is a very emotional cat, and he often screams on top of his lung to express his melodramas. After four consecutive flops, he finally learned that tempestuous outburst isn’t getting through his listeners’ ears. So he has to try another form of expression.

In his tenth release, Lac Mat Em, he tells his stories instead of yelling out every chance he gets like before. There are six intros in the album, and by the time you get to his second or third long, pointless narrative, you just want to say shut the fuck up and just sing. Unfortunately his vocal cords have damaged. He lost all of his tones and his gruffness is no longer pretty but more like pity. Whenever he enunciates a word with an “s” resonance, he tears away my tweeters. Comparing his new remake of “Noi Nho” to the one he recorded on his debut, you can hear all that rambunctious screaming has taken a toll on his voice.

Despite all the edginess has gone, Lac Mat Em is not as bad as his last four records. His breath control has improved and he has turned his shouting level down a notch, but I have to beg Mr. Dam not to attempt to croon the blues. With his oddball delivery and spurious scat, his bluesy rendition of “Ngay Khong Ten” is a deep sacrilegious. If he wants to sing the blues, at least gets his chops down first.

Before releasing his new album, Khi, Quang Dung told the press that he would incorporate jazz into his repertoire for a change. Much as I like to see a singer gets out of his comfort zone, change is not for him. He’s a pop singer, not interpreter. (When was the last time he reinvented a standard?) He can’t swing or ride fast beats because he doesn’t have much rhythmic flexibility. So if you’re expecting something jazzy in Quang Dung, forget about it. If you wonder if he could make you dance, forget about it. But if you still want to hear him croons slow, romantic ballads, he still got them.

Call him Irresponsible, unreliable and undependable all you want, but the ladies know damn well that you can’t be mad at Michael Bublé even when him and Mrs. Jones got a thing going on. In addition to his charming voice, the boy got the swing as well as the world on a string. While the Spanish-tinged “It Had Better Be Tonight” and the Boyz II Men-assisted “Comin’ Home Baby” will guarantee to tap your feet, the sleek-seducing “I’m Your Man” and the slow-burning “Always On My Mind” (a wonderful remake) will promise to melt your heart. So he grooves you, romanticizes you, and always thinks of you, what more can you ask for from an irresponsible guy?

Big up, Dieu!

People still are furious when David Meng won the People Choice despite he scored the lowest points from the judges. David was a very charming guy. That bright, baby face looked so harmless that you could trust him around your daughter. Furthermore, David was very clever in his song choice. Ninety-five percent of the lyrics in Kasim Hoang Vu’s “Xin Loi Em” were “Xin loi em.” Even though his Vietnamese was not so good, he couldn’t really fuck up on that one. And he was not only apologizing to his lover, but also to his audience if he didn’t enunciate the words correctly. David was not the only one who said sorry and won $10,000. Trinh Lam was doing the same shit with his own “Tai Sao.”

Nhu Loan’s rendition of Trinh Nam Son’s “Ve Day Em” is best I have ever watch. Even when she sings “Va mua dong lanh lung buot gia” without soul and emotion, I still feel the heat. Actually if Nhu Loan and her dancers put on some fucking clothes they wouldn’t be so cold, but keep shaking them booties and showing off them panties, ladies.

Not sure why Tran Thu Ha sang Duong Thieu Tuoc’s “Ngoc Lan” with a big-ass rose adorned on her ear. It seemed like she was not just revealing her voice but her legs as well in a Tran Thu Ha’s Secret wardrobe, but the audience still loved her when she belted out that operatic shit.

Guitarist Pat Metheny naturally do not share a mutual respect with Kenny G when he castigates G’s overdubbing of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” as “lame-ass, jive, pseudo bluesy, out-of-tune, noodling, wimped out, fucked up…,” but he does share his vision with pianist Brad Mehldau whose lyrical approach reminds me of Bill Evans on their invigorating collaboration. Backing up by Mehldau’s bulletproof rhythm section, bassist Larry Grenadier and drummer Jeff Ballard, Metheny’s hypnotic riffs in unison with Mehldau’s melodic lines produced some of the most delightful grooves in contemporary jazz. From airy atmosphere to serene chaos to exquisite sound of water, the varying in tempos brings unique colors, textures and moods to the overall experience.

When being asked about Vietnamese jazz, Tran Thu Ha said, “Nhạc jazz VN tới nay thường là ‘râu ông nọ cắm cằm bà kia’ hoặc đu đưa cho có vẻ jazz một tí. Hiện tại, chỉ có Jazzy Dạ Lam theo đúng kiểu” (Phụ Nữ Chủ Nhật).

Jazzy’s Moon & You is a mixture of pop, jazz and funk. I like its uniqueness, but that’s not necessarily the “right” approach to jazz. It’s more like Norah Jones’ pop, jazz and old country buffet that attracts the bourgeois but not the aficionados. To dismiss Vietnamese jazz as “râu ông nọ cắm cằm bà kia” is not entirely accurate. Maybe some of Tran Thu Ha’s own jazz-up songs were, but there are still some decent tunes like Le Minh Son’s “Trang Khat” performed by Tung Duong. That’s some deep shades of blues right there. The voice is raspy and soulful, and the instrumental improvisations are damn hypnotic. While we’re at it, let’s not forget that he blew her out like candle not once but twice with his bossa-nova rendition of “Chay Tron.”

In addition, I see nothing wrong with taking the basic chords of Vietnamese ballads and extending them into jazz improvisations. In fact, Trinh Cong Son compositions are perfect because they are simple, which give musicians plenty of space to work around the minimal structure. For examples, Art Pepper and his sidemen took “Besame Mucho” (the last track in TTBlue’s collection) and pushed it to twenty minutes plus of exhilarating solos, or completely reinvented “História De Un Amor” (A Love Story) with his own personal interpretation.

Even though jazz is sophisticated, you shouldn’t be discouraged from it. You don’t have be at the level of Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Coleman Hawkins, Charles Mingus, Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman, Dave Brubeck, Bill Evans, or Art Pepper. Playing and singing with your own heart and feeling is all that needed. There is no right or wrong way to approach jazz. The question should be how you approach jazz.

TTBlues once again got me hook on an avant-garde jazzcat who shares our birthplace. What makes Cuong Vu stands out to me is his wicked and wild emotionalism emerged from his trumpet. On “Pitter-Patter,” Vu’s quiet-but-chaotic growl navigates itself into the groove laid down the funk rhythm section. When he reaches the top register, Vu’s extended phrases create a serene ecstasy. Again and again and again, all I can is that the motherfucker can blow.

Mong Thuy who is previously unknown to me has a hell of a high pitch. The superb soprano—minus Thai Thanh’s girlish annoyances—from her voice puts Bang Kieu to shame. She brings the dramas alright, but not to the point where she’s about to jump off the Brooklyn bridge. Proof? In her Pham Duy songbook, Tram Nam Ben Cu, she performs every song with full emotional power and she’s capable of swooping up high notes in effortless control.

What impresses me the most is that she has cut an album I’ve been dying to hear. In every recording, the only instrument backing her up is a piano, something I encouraged a singer to do, but he thought it would be too boring for an entire album. Well, Mong Thuy has proved him wrong. With a prodigious pianist behind her, she paints Pham Duy’s compositions with vivid lyricisms, luminous textures, and elusive harmonies. From the clarity of execution in the accompaniment to the clarity of feeling in the voice, pure aesthetic is what being accomplished in this tight and personal setting. Furthermore, the nuanced touch from the keyboard and the light touch from her phrasing make the album perfect for rainy-day introspection.

If you’re like me, sick and tired of the current popular Vietnamese music from big productions like Thuy Nga, Asia, and Van Son whose main interest are nothing but mucho dinero, Mong Thuy’s album offers a much greater alternative. Often times I wonder to myself, am I being anal to Vietnamese singers and productions? After listening to recent releases, I thought these producers are either deaf or they just simply don’t give a fuck, but album like this has reassured me that I am not being too damn demanding.

Download: “Duong Chieu La Rung“

Erroll Garner is one of my personal favorite jazz pianists for his astounding orchestral concept. Listen to his interpretation of “Don’t Be That Way” and you will figure out why. By applying the full range of the keyboard, he was capable of creating a big-band effect. With the “kicking” beat on the left hand and “strumming” chords on his right, Garner’s stride technique not only reinvents the popular tune, but also making it his own.