Tieng Hat Truong Chi continues Duc Tuan’s direction in concept album. He covers Van Cao’s tunes with the accompanying of Hoai Sa’s arrangements. Hoai Sa is a young, talented musician and he is one of the top-billing producers in Viet Nam. He is also passed for a jazz, semi-classical pianist; therefore, it is not a surprise that Duc Tuan enlisted him for this release.

Like his previous albums, Duc Tuan recorded Truong Chi with a set of standards: wise song selection and quality production. Sometimes a too-careful-too-perfect album returns a reverse effect. Truong Chi is indeed a perfect album, and its perfection robs its soul. In every track the arrangement has stripped down to its basic elements, which diminishes the depth and the textures of the work. The title track, “Truong Chi,” is beautiful rendition. Hoai Sa has done a superb job of playing the piano behind Duc Tuan. The problem is that the track is six minutes long, and without variations, it gets worn out quick. Both “Thu Co Lieu” and “Buon Tan Thu” have a repetitive, mechanical drum track throughout, which doesn’t help Duc Tuan’s little fatigued and breathy vocals.

“Ben Xuan” and “Thien Thai” are good, but could have been better if Hoai Sa could add some colorization and dynamics into the harmonization—something Duc Tri has done so well in his orchestration. With an album like Truong Chi, production plays an important role in enhancing the music. If Hoai Sa could step up his game, the album would have been a great, instead of just decent, one.

My wife’s sister is getting married this weekend and she wanted to give me a haircut. She cut my hair plenty of times and even the couple days before our wedding, but it didn’t turn out quite right yesterday. The weather was hot so I made us some Strawberry Margarita, but this time I put a bit too much Tequila and Grand Marnier. The cocktail came out delicious, so was the buzz.

She started to cut my hair with the blade guard. Everything turned out perfect until she took off the blade guard to do the sideburn and back trims. Of all the sudden, I felt the blade touched my head and it was not close to my neck where it was suppose to be. She freaked out and I told her not to worry. I asked her to shave the bottom of my head and to blend up to the top, but she apologized and broke down and cried. I pulled her into my arm and comforted her. I told her it was no big deal and she could fix it, but she wouldn’t even touch the clipper.

So now I am walking around with a hairless spot on the back of my head. I am actually proud of it. Every time I touch the back of my head, it reminds me of the special moment that I feel so loved even though I should have been the one that freaked out.

I have a perfect title for Nas’s new album: Sleepmatic. I can’t get through fifteen tracks on Untitled in a straight shot. Let’s just forget about the lifeless beats. Nas doesn’t care about them. Lyricism is where his heart beats, but he is just rambling about racism, politic, Fox News, fried chicken and roaches.

Nas is a gifted lyricist when he wants to be, but on Untitled most of his rhymes are comical. In “Roach Project,” he raps as a roach: “I’m creeping and crawling / in your sink or your toilet / I’ll be drinking from your spit
/ anything cause I’m more less an insect with four legs / people come and I fake dead
/ correction I got eight legs.” Then on “Fried Chicken” (featuring Busta Rhymes) he compares women to fried chicken: “Don’t know a part of you that I love best
/ your legs or your breast.” Elsewhere he sounds like rapping while sleeping: “Then I cop, then I yatch, then I dock.”

Album-opener “Queens Get the Money” is the only exceptional track. Accompanied by just a strange-sounding keyboard ostinato, Nas packs his words into one impressive verse that runs about two minutes long. It’s actually more like an intro than a song. Nas only pushed himself to a half-assed potential.

As I was about to grab something quick for lunch, my wife called to come over for lunch. I quickly looked up a place special to take her. Brasserie Beck came to mind. This Belgium cuisine is the place that I could not get a reservation on the weekend before 10pm. So I figure I could get it on a Wednesday lunch. I made a reservation, picked her up at the Metro, and we walked twelve blocks to get to 1101 K Street.

The place was pretty busy for a Wednesday afternoon. I ordered a roasted rabbit in Kriek beer and she went for a pan-seared fillet of salmon with curry fennel sauce. We ordered two fruit beers, St. Louis Kriek (cherry flavor) and Floris Pomme “Apple.” They have a nice taste, but each is $12 a pop. The rabbit tasted pretty much like chicken, and the sauce was simply plain. Her salmon was just grilled and sat on top of the curry sauce.

Nothing stood out except the bill. We had an eighty-dollar lunch. If I were to have a choice, I would rather settle for Hai Duong’s bun mam or Thanh Truc’s bun bo hue. I am still glad my wife came over to have lunch with me though.

Check out the awesome routine performed right on the airport waiting area. The casts included airport staff, policemen and a cute Asian girl.

Chinese tips when chatting with foreign guests:

Don’t ask about income or expenses, don’t ask about age, don’t ask about love life or marriage, don’t ask about health, don’t ask about someone’s home or address, don’t ask about personal experience, don’t ask about religious beliefs or political views, don’t ask what someone does.

How about don’t ask anything at all?

I shouldn’t have read such a disturbed article in this early hour. In “When Gunner Jay Lindberg Killed Thien Minh Ly, Was It Actually a Hate Crime?,” R. Scott Moxley describes the murder scene:

Minutes later, they [Gunner Jay Lindberg and Domenic Michael Christopher] found and trapped the unsuspecting Ly, whose last seven minutes of life were the stuff of horror flicks. Lindberg called him a “Jap,” demanded his car keys, cursed him, punched him, stomped on his head, kicked his face, slashed his throat and stabbed him 22 times—in part, to celebrate a victory earlier that evening by what Lindberg hailed as “America’s team,” the Dallas Cowboys.

With three tenor and two alto saxophonists, two trumpeters, two double bassists, a pianist and a drummer, John Coltrane and his big band got their freak on. Ascension, the forty-minute free jazz recorded in 1965, was Coltrane’s experimentation with dissonant tones and intensified textures.

Häagen-Dazs launched helpthehoneybees.com, a gorgeous, interactive web site to raise awareness of honey bee crisis:

Honey bees are responsible for pollinating more than 100 different crops, $15 billion worth annually in the U.S., and are a key factor in the agricultural industry’s ability to provide food products to the rest of the world. But honey bees are dying at an alarming rate. Over the last several winters, more than 25 percent of the honey bee population in the United States has vanished, many under mysterious circumstances. Early reports from beekeepers show this phenomenon is continuing in 2008.

Check out the dancing bees video too.

University of Portland sports huge photos on the homepage, but manages to keep layout clean and simple.