Lara Callender Hogan’s book is concise and yet packed with useful information on web performance. From images to CSS to JavaScript to gzip to caching, Hogan’s writing is accessible to even non-coders because she knows that performance is everyone’s responsibility, not just the front-end developers. Read it and share it with your team—even your boss can benefit on changing the culture at your organization—if you want to provide your visitors a faster experience.
I damn near overlooked Quốc Thiên’s Tình Khúc Một Thời when the album first hit streaming web sites late last year. Quốc Thiên is a new face with a warm baritone and sincere delivery. For his debut, he chooses a rather safe approach: covering standards. The album kicks off with a gentle, Latin-inflected version of “Nếu Xa Nhau,” a Đức Huy’s ballad. The second track, “Chiếc Lá Mùa Đông,” a duet with Uyên Linh, is disappointing. While their vocal chemistry blended well, their Chinese-translated song choice, is such a letdown. I didn’t make it past the third track, “Tình Như Lá Bay Xa,” which is another Chinese ballad.
A few days ago I copped the entire high-quality album and decided to give it another try. Without the Internet streaming interruption, the album comes to life. Standout is the bluesy rendition of Quốc Dũng’s “Em Đã Thấy Mùa Xuân Chưa.” The blues-turn-valse arrangement is hypnotizing. The strip-down version of “Tiếng Mưa Đêm” (Đức Huy) is refreshing. The strumming guitar, the brushing percussion, the thumping bass, and the accenting piano work their magic to accompany the vocals. In addition, Trịnh Nam Sơn’s “Quên Đi Tình Yêu Cũ” gets an elegant bossa nova makeover.
If Quốc Thiên were to focus Tình Khúc Một Thời on the jazz side, he could have created a sensational experience. Too bad the album is wasted with sugary, Chinese-translated ballads. He definitely has potentials. He just needed an executive producer to guide him to the right direction.
Zack O’Malley Greenburg’s unauthorized biography of Jay-Z reads like a long résumé detailing the business successes (and failures) of a gifted rapper turned exemplary entrepreneur. Since he has no direct access to Jay-Z, Greenburg offers no inside information on how the man handled his business. If you have followed Jay-Z closely from his music to his venture, the stories come at no surprise. To be fair, the book is not as “terrible” as Jay-Z had criticized. It does provide some intriguing glimpses of Jay-Z’s accomplishments.
Brent Schlender and Rick Tetzeli’s book has received the endorsement from Apple’s top executives to be the correct biography of Steve Jobs. Unlike Walter Isaacson’s Steve Jobs, Becoming Steve Jobs focuses mainly on Jobs as the business genius. The authors also shed the light on the warm, gentle side of the man who had been known as the “asshole” who had no sympathy for others. What missing from this book, however, is Jobs’s personal story. Isaacson has done a superb job of providing the readers the personal accounts including Jobs’s relationshipS with women as well as his love for Bob Dylan. Having read both books, I find each has its own strengths and weaknesses in covering such a complex man. I enjoyed reading both.
Both Molly Johnson and Rebecca Ferguson know too damn well that no one can phrase like Billie Holiday and no one can touch the dark corner like Lady Day; therefore, they reinterpret Billie’s repertoire with their own approach: lighter and less serious.
Whereas Johnson still shows some traces of Holiday’s timbre and texture in Because of Billie, Ferguson draws no resemblance in Lady Sings the Blues. “Fine And Mellow” for instance, Johnson’s version is swinging a bit faster than Billie’s, but Furguson takes it to the retro soul. Both versions lost the emphatic of “Love is just like the faucet / It turns off and on,” in which defined Billie’s signature style. In contrast, Ferguson’s rendition of “Lady Sings the Blues” is closer to Billie’s than Johnson’s, which is a faster blues-swing cover.
Because of Johnson’s and Furguson’s vocals and choices of arrangement, they have created different vibes of Billie’s classic materials. For a wine-and-dine time with friends and family, Furguson’s album is ideal. For a more intimate time with a lover, Johnson’s album is the perfect mood. For an up close and personal experience, Billie’s albums remain unmatchable.
An emotional interaction between Kate, an A.L.S. patient played by Hilary Swank, and Bec, Kate’s caretaker played by Emmy Rossum. While Swank’s portrayal of an A.L.S. victim is excruciating and persuasive, Rossum’s depiction of a wild college student is sincere and convincing. Their powerful performances are the key success of the film.
Under the mentorship of Đàm Vĩnh Hưng, Trọng Khương released his debut, Mộng Bình Thường, covering standards. From the bluesy opening on “Gởi Gió Cho Mây Ngàn Bay” (Đoàn Chuẩn and Từ Linh) to the closing duet with Mr. Đàm on “Chiều Nay Không Có Em” (Ngô Thụy Miên), Trọng Khương doesn’t have much freshness to offer, specially in this overcrowded market of recording old ballads. The exceptions are the bright swinging “Cô Bắc Kỳ Nho Nhỏ” (Phạm Duy) and the Latin-inflected “Chỉ Có Em” (Lam Phương). Both tunes have the light, joyful vibe that suggests the simple dream he alludes to in the title. The album would have worked better if he opted for more strip-down productions.
Based on research and interviews with parents (and a grandmother), Jennifer Senior’s book explores the effects on modern parenting. From infancy to years in primary schools to adolescence, each chapter chronicles the hardship of raising children. The journey is no fun and could be quite frightening in the teenage years when kids deal with drug, depression, and suicide. And where is the joy in parenting? Senior finds it hard to quantify. If I read this book before having kids, I might not wanted to be a parent. There’s no turning back now.
On the surface, Kendrick Lamar is a swift, gifted rapper. In “For Free?,” the second track off his newest release, To Pimp a Butterfly, he rhymes like Ella Fitzgerald scatting over the hard-swing jazz arrangement. At the core, he is a sharp, skilled lyricist. Using the pimping metaphor, Lamar turns his dick on America: “You’re bad bitch / I picked cotton that made you rich / Now my dick ain’t free.” From the funkified groove (“Wesley’s Theory”) to the Compton’s big bass (“Hood Politics”) to the Latin-inspired rhythm (“I”), Lamar has crafted an outstanding album rich in sonics and affluent in lyrics. Lamar should get the creds he deserved for this joint.
Ngọc Anh’s newest release is a predictable, yawn-worthy cover of Lam Phương’s ballads. Like Lệ Quyên, Ngọc Anh brings nothing fresh to the old standards. Even the music productions are dull and lifeless. Listening to Cám Ơn Người Tình makes you want to return to Bạch Yến’s superb interpretation of Lam Phương’s music.