Egotistic, zero-given fucks and to be specific
Need assistance with the way I was brought up
What’s the difference when your heart is made of stone
And your mind is made of gold
And your tongue is made of sword, but it may weaken your soul?
My niggas ain’t got no daddy, grow up overcompensatin’
Learn shit ’bout bein’ a man and disguise it as bein’ gangsta
I love my father for tellin’ me to take off the gloves
’Cause everything he didn’t want was everything I was
And to my partners that figured it out without a father
I salute you, may your blessings be neutral to your toddlers
It’s crucial, they can’t stop us if we see the mistakes
’Til then, let’s give the women a break, grown men with daddy issues.

Kendrick Lamar (Excerpt from “Father Time”)

Giọng của Ngân Thùy cũng tốt nhưng thiếu nét riêng. Nếu như phải đoán giọng ca của cô thì chắc sẽ không dễ dàng nhận ra trong một rừng ca sĩ của âm nhạc trong nước. Tôi cũng rất thích lối hoà âm và phối khí của nhạc sĩ Đạo Nguyễn nhưng trong album này không hiệu quả lắm. Những bài phối của anh chỉ nhẹ nhàng theo sao giọng hát của Ngân Thùy chứ không làm tăng thêm phần trình bài của cô. Ngân Thùy hát lại những ca khúc cũ với lối hoà âm hơi bị smooth quá.

Eight billion people on Earth, silent murderers
Non-profits, preachers and church, crooks and burglars
Hollywood corporate in school, teachin’ philosophies
You either gon’ be dead or in jail, killer psychology
Silent murderer, what’s your body count? Who your sponsorship?
Objectified so many bitches, I killed their confidence
The media’s the new religion, you killed the consciousness
Your jealousy is way too pretentious, you killed accomplishments
Niggas killed freedom of speech, everyone sensitive
If your opinion fuck ’round and leak, might as well send your will
The industry has killed the creators, I’ll be the first to say
To each exec’, “I’m saving your children”—We can’t negotiate
I caught a couple of bodies myself, slid my community
My last Christmas toy drive in Compton handed out eulogies
Not because the rags in the park had red gradient
But because the high blood pressure flooded the caterin’
So what’s the difference ’tween your life when hiding motives?
More fatalities and reality bring you closure
The noble person that goes to work and pray like they ’posed to?
Slaughter people too, your murder’s just a bit slower.

Kendrick Lamar (Excerpt from “Worldwide Steppers”)

This afternoon, I attended the AAPI faculty group meeting via Zoom. When we broke into small groups, we discussed support and stress relief. On the latter, I shared that I took my kids to the skateparks. I rollerbladed to help ease all the tensions. We also hit the slopes skiing and snowboarding. A Chinese-American faculty member shared that she watched K-Dramas when she had time to herself. A Korean-American staff member shared that she had been too busy with work and kids; therefore, she hadn’t time to herself.

With support, we talked about the vibrant Asian communities in Virginia including Vietnamese, Korean, and Chinese. I shared about the support I got from my co-workers. One of them also concurred about the support she received from her colleagues. The example she gave was when she went to the funeral of her son’s best friend who killed himself, her colleagues showed her their support. Her son and his best friend were in college together. I didn’t know what made that young man take his own life, but my heart sank. I just can’t even begin to imagine how the kid’s parents would cope with their loss.

The tragic story has kept me thinking about my own kids, especially the older ones. I love them way too much and I care about them too deeply. I want to make sure that they won’t screw up their lives. Instead of helping them, I am turning into a control freak. They hate me and they say I am ruining their lives. They may be right. I don’t know what I am doing. Like everything I have cared so deeply for, I ended up ruining it. Maybe I should just care less and give them the freedom to live their own lives. If they don’t want to hang out with me, I won’t force them. If they want to spend time on their digital devices, I’ll let them. I need to learn to let go.

Since my mother’s passing, I am still carrying on the pain. I thought of her often. Glimpses of her playing on my mind made me weep. My life has not been the same after she departed. My emotions had all screwed up. The more I cared about something; the more I became erratic. I ended up making poor choices. I messed up all my relationships, especially the ones I cared too much about. Instead of caring too much, I am learning to care less. For the most part, it is working out well.

I avoid getting too comfortable around people. Even with my relatives, I remind myself to just shut up and walk away. I used to be passionate about my work. Now I just remove myself from discussions and let people be the experts in my field. My older kids are growing and they want to live their lives. I am not going to get into their way. My drinking friends, after getting wasted, see you next time.

I am not being careless. I just need to care less. When I cared too deeply, I felt like I was on the verge of breaking down. I couldn’t control the monster in me. Caring less means letting go of things I cannot control. I can’t control my mother’s death. I can’t control my kids. I can’t control my work. I can’t control my own life. I never wanted to be in control. I am not a dictator. I just want the best for the people I love. If my kids turn out bad, they will suffer, not me. If they turn out good, that’s great for them and that’s what I want. I don’t want them to be miserable because they have a controlling father. They are grown now and it is time to let them go. It’s time to refocus my attention on the younger ones.

Một album acoustic mộc mạc chỉ giọng hát của Minh Thu và tiếng đàn guitar. Giọng hát của Minh Thu đầy chất khói và cô hát “Quê nhà” của nhạc sĩ Trần Tiến rất thấm. Cô trình bài các ca khúc khác cũng tốt nhưng chỉ đơn giản với tiếng đàn mộc nên bị buồn tẻ.

The first time I fucked a white bitch
I was sixteen at the Palisades
Fumblin’ my grades, I traveled with the team
The apache life, Centennial was like
When Mrs. Baker screamed at Doughboy
Mixed that with Purple Rain
They interchanged the scenes
Happy just to be out the hood
With all the wealthy kids
Credit cards and family plans
She drove her daddy’s Benz
I found out that he was a sheriff
That was a win-win
Because he had locked up Uncle Perry
She paid her daddy’s sins
Next time I fucked a white bitch
Was out in Copenhagen
​good kid, m.A.A.d city tour
I flourished on them stages
Whitney asked did I have a problem
I said, “I might be racist”
Ancestors watchin’ me fuck was like retaliation

Kendrick Lamar (Excerpt from “Worldwide Steppers”)

Chất giọng của Xuân Hảo trầm ấm nhưng cách hát của anh vẫn hơi bị cứng. Chẳng hạn như khi anh trình bài “Mộng dưới hoa” (nhạc của Phạm Đình Chương và thơ của Đinh Hùng) và “Tôi đi giữa hoàng hôn” (Văn Phụng), anh hát hơi bị ngượng nghịu một tí. Riêng “Cô hàng nước” (Vũ Minh) thì cái flow của anh rất đẹp. Đạo Nguyễn dùng dàn nhạc để phối khí bài này rất tuyệt—nhất là khi tiếng sax vu vơ theo sao giọng ca trầm của nam ca sĩ. “Cô hàng nước” là ca khúc nổi bật nhất trong album này.

A beautiful and heartfelt collection filled with human touch. John Lee Clark is a DeafBlind poet who writes in English Braille (EBAE). He even translated works from American Sign Language. His poems are enjoyable to read. One of my favorites is the biographical “A DeafBlind Poet”:

A DeafBlind poet doesn’t like to read sitting up. A DeafBlind poet likes to read Braille magazines on the john. A DeafBlind poet is in the habit of composing nineteenth-century letters and pressing Alt+S. A DeafBlind poet is a terrible student. A DeafBlind poet does a lot of groundbreaking research. A DeafBlind poet is always in demand. A DeafBlind poet has yet to be gainfully employed. A DeafBlind poet shares all his trade secrets with his children. A DeafBlind poet will not stop if police order him to. A DeafBlind poet used to like dogs but now prefers cats. A DeafBlind poet listens to his wife. A DeafBlind poet knits beautiful soft things for his dear friends. A DeafBlind poet doesn’t believe in “contributing to society.”

I used to think I could do anything
with enough effort—throw a rope
at the night and lasso in the moon,
or jump from a tree
and beat my arms into wings
like an owl, its feathers nothing
more than decoration, nothing my naked
arms couldn’t match. I was an imaginative
child. An imbecile in some circles.
It is not nice to call someone names.
I was the name-caller. I said Little White
Sickle to the moon. I said Big Head Bird
to the owl. I said Mom, and I said Dad.
I thought if I shouted these names loud
enough, then someone would respond.
These days I have seen my best
efforts fail. All the love I’ve poured
into a person. Or them into me.
How I’ve failed to open myself
properly to receive their names.
Love. Love bird. I have been called
so many names. I have so many
identities I never meant to adopt.
In the dark, the owls hoot at each other
and I shout back: me, me, me.

Kien Lam

Từ chất giọng khàn đến cách nhả chữ, Minh Tâm hát rất giống cô Khánh Ly. Chẳng hạn như chữ “ngỡ” trong ca khúc của cố nhạc sĩ Hoàng Thi Thơ, Minh Tâm phát âm y chang như cô Khánh Ly. Chỉ khác là không rè bằng vì thiếu thuốc lá và trải nghiệm. Nghe Minh Tâm trình bày những ca khúc của Trịnh Công Sơn (“Hạ trắng” và “Ướt mi”) khiến tôi muốn nghe lại những bài thu âm trước năm 1975 của cô Khánh Ly. Album không có điểm đặc biệt hay riêng biệt của Minh Tâm.