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.

Like I haven’t spend enough time on this blog already. Now with Twitter to let the world know what the hell I am doing every minute. Talking about living online and privacy.

“The People” from lyricist Common: “Can’t leave rap alone, the streets need me / Hunger in their eyes is what seem to feed me.”

Two additional renditions of Pham Duy’s “Ky Niem” from my girls 5 Dong Ke and Duc Tuan. It’s refreshing to hear the tune from the young generation.

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.

That’s right, 13 renditions of Pham Duy’s “Ky Niem” (including Tuan Ngoc’s) for your entertainment. That’s how much we love this song.

Lady Day was not just about pain and drama. When accompanied by the King of Swing on “What a Little Moonlight Can Do,” she could swing too. Again, her timing was just amazing. Benny Goodman’s sweet tone on the clarinet was freaking beautiful.

I find myself reaching back to Quan Van NoVa’s rendition of “Ky Niem” again and again like a glass of water. Despite some flaws in his pronunciation, particularly “cuu vot gai bo vo,” brother Tin handles the low notes with conversational candor and the mandolin adds a dollop of melancholy to his raspy vocals. The complement between the instruments (piano and mandolin in unison) on the break is hypnotizing. Mad kudos friends!

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.