Music and animation from “Bathtime at Clerkenwell“

Zhu Yunwei’s Opened/Closed Eyes photography, in which he combines two shots into one, is quite freaky.

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.

Multiple Sclerosis has taken away the life of my personal-favorite Vietnamese vocalist. So I really am appreciated it when my man HmL has signed up for the “25th Anniversary Multiple Sclerosis Bike Ride” to help ending this fatal disease. Please lend him your support like you did last time for the “Break Away from Cancer.” Thank you and HmL once again for making a difference.

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.

Some photos from the National Museum of the American Indian’s exhibitions.

An amazing pianist who has not only conquered her flaw, but also made a miracle. Mad kudos to the mother’s unconditional love.

Before releasing his new album, Khi, Quang Dung told the press that he would incorporate jazz into his repertoire for a change. Much as I like to see a singer gets out of his comfort zone, change is not for him. He’s a pop singer, not interpreter. (When was the last time he reinvented a standard?) He can’t swing or ride fast beats because he doesn’t have much rhythmic flexibility. So if you’re expecting something jazzy in Quang Dung, forget about it. If you wonder if he could make you dance, forget about it. But if you still want to hear him croons slow, romantic ballads, he still got them.

Call him Irresponsible, unreliable and undependable all you want, but the ladies know damn well that you can’t be mad at Michael Bublé even when him and Mrs. Jones got a thing going on. In addition to his charming voice, the boy got the swing as well as the world on a string. While the Spanish-tinged “It Had Better Be Tonight” and the Boyz II Men-assisted “Comin’ Home Baby” will guarantee to tap your feet, the sleek-seducing “I’m Your Man” and the slow-burning “Always On My Mind” (a wonderful remake) will promise to melt your heart. So he grooves you, romanticizes you, and always thinks of you, what more can you ask for from an irresponsible guy?

Big up, Dieu!

No wait. Thuy Duong’s renditions of Truong Sa’s “Mua Xuan Sao Chua Ve Hoi Em” and “Roi Mai Toi Dua Em” aren’t the right approach to jazz (or blues in these instances). They are more like “râu ông nọ cắm cằm bà kia” or imitated jazz according someone who came down with a “diva” syndrome. But heck, they intoxicated me. Although the pre-arranged productions aren’t ideal for jazz, they are accompanying her vocals well. The voice is really what matters here.