In Dong Thoi Gian (1960s), Ice Ice Lady brings a bit of flavors, including the cha cha-tempo “Hoa Xoan Ben Them Cu” (Tuan Khanh) and lyrical ballad (nhac tru tinh) “Nua Dem Ngoai Pho” (Truc Phuong) to her repertoire. Her truth forte, however, remains with those intimate, slow-burning standards such as Trinh Cong Son’s “Phoi Pha,” Le Uyen Phuong’s “Vung Lay Cua Chung Ta” and Vu Thanh An’s “Tinh Khuc Thu Nhat.” Loving both the orchestrations and her behind-the-beat singings on those numbers.

Word up, Boo!

The best part of Quynh Vi’s final performance on Paris By Night Talent Show is not her impressive rendition of Trinh Cong Son’s “Mua Hong,” but watching her and Ky Duyen’s facial expression after Huynh Thi pulled some shit out of his ass. Not only he stuttered the way through, but also tried to fluff his way out by criticizing how “Mua Hong” has such a wide range that she couldn’t cover. Don’t you just love it when people make Trinh’s music sounded like it’s the most sophisticated piece of composition they have ever heard? Yet “Mua Hong” is just one of his straightforward, lyrical ballads. He also pointed out that she has chosen the wrong tune. What would you suggest, Mr. Thuy Nga’s Producer? Some melodrama shit like “Nguoi Ay va Toi, Anh Chon Ai?” so she could start ripping off her garments? Or should she have done what Trinh Lam did with Hoang Thi Tho’s “Mot Lan Cuoi” by turning it into a fucked-up, shouting jazz? That was the worse fusion I had ever heard, like eating pancakes with fish sauce, but you loved it. Come on man, sit your ass back in your executive chair.

With a track list filled with happy titles including “Get Happy,” “Happy Talk,” “Make Someone Happy,” and “Smile,” you would think that you’ll get a joyful treat from Tierney Sutton’s newest album. But On the Other Side of happiness is what Sutton goes for. Remember, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. / You make me happy, when skies are gray?” It was one of the most tuneful songs for kids, but Sutton isn’t singing it for the kids. She brings such a sad and doleful tone to the tune that when she ends with, “please don’t take my sunshine away,” you would feel as if she’s begging you not to take away her only hope. It takes risks to cover a standard, but it takes ball to completely reinventing the mood and tone of a standard, and that is what she has. With a sensational voice, an ingenious approach to harmonies, and an extraordinary scat-singing skill, she could pull off not only slow tempo, but also upbeat numbers. The way she wraps her vocals around the groovy rhythm section on “Sometimes I’m Happy” proves that she is a versatile vocalist who could make an already fun tune even more invigorating.

Feeling down? The Puppini Sisters will guarantee to swing you up. They sure have shaken the morning blue out of me with their debut Bectha Bottom Dollar. I can’t help but laughed my head off when I heard their novelty rendition of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” They have flipped one of the mega disco hits from the 1970s like a pancake into an a-cappella swing with their light, syrupy, rounded vocals. It’s a sacrilegious what they have done to Louis Armstrong’s “Heebie Jeebies” and “Jeepers Creepers,” but fuck it. These British blondies are having a blast making you “Boogie Woogie” and that all it really matter.

Quang Ly’s Vong Am Song is my latest addiction. I’ve been coming back to the album like I need a fix. Quang Ly is an extraordinary interpreter. Just give him any tune and he’ll find his way into it. The high notes in Pho Duc Phuong’s “Ho Tren Nui” don’t seem to suit a male voice, but Quang Ly proved it could be done. Then his Bac Ninh accent on “Ngau Hung Giao Duyen” is so damn exotic that I almost fall for him like I fell for someone who refered to fireworks as “phao hoa” instead of my typical southern “phao bong.” Too bad, he’s already married. Musically, he’s still my man though. His rendition of Tran Tien’s “Que Nha” is a trip down to memory lane:

A oi… hoa bay len troi, cay chi o lai,
A oi… hoa cai len troi,
Rau ram o lai chiu loi dang cay.

Composer/guitarist/singer from Paris, Mong Trang, caught my ears with her sensuous rendition of Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Noi Dau Muon Mang.” Accompanied by her own simple picking guitar, you could feel the bittersweet pain in her voice as quickly as she starts off the first bar: “Mua roi la nuoc mat tinh da phai roi.” Her own composition, “Canh Hoa Dai,” is no less emotional.

I have no idea what Seattle rain is like, but Ella’s scatting over Joe Pass’s simple picking guitar tells it all. When it rains it brings back “That Old Feeling,” and that old feeling ain’t “Nothing But The Blues.” But don’t be too sentimental, you can still do the “Samba” while it rains. Oh Lord, Ella’s scat singing is killing me with her harmomic and rhythmic sensibilities. You’re the fucking man, TTBlue. Thanks for sharing these four delightful tracks from Again.

Damn, another Thuy Tien? Damn, another Trinh Cong Son album? Damn, another Xin Cho Toi? Despite her name has already been taken by two young popular singers, her album concept has already been recorded by numerous singers, and her album title has already been used by Cam Van, Thuy Tien brings a sweet sensation to Trinh’s music.

Like most Vietnamese singers, Thuy Tien doesn’t dare to ruffle Trinh’s compositions. She sings them the way they were written. What makes her performances stand out, however, is her so-beautiful-it-hurts voice. On the title track she soars like a dove with a broken wing begging for peace over a fine and mellow keyboard companion. On “Mot Lan Thoang Co” her vocals float like chill wind around the cascading piano ostinato. The rhythm section also added a subtle mysteriousness into the tune. The best part is on the break where the violin saws along her vocalization creating an enticing effect.

While her delivery on “Doi Cho Ta The” is free and effortless weaving in and out of the fun strumming guitar and lively plucking bass, she performs “Hay Cu Vui Nhu Moi Ngay” as if she is forcing herself to enjoy life. Her stilted flow comes across as if it is still raining inside even though the sun has shined. The album offers no novelty, but rather another fresh voice on Trinh’s work.

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.