Goodbye to the good, old, clunky Sony Discman, I am now rocking with the cute, petite iPod Shuffle. Not that I want to be down with today’s trend, but I inherited it by a coincidence. I got the Shuffle for her birthday, and her brother also gave her a SanDisk Sansa MP3 Player. It’s a waste to own them both, which I agreed, and she knows that if she gives it back to her brother, that’s it. With me, she could negotiate for something else. Smart girl, I tell ya!

When I first spotted the Shuffle on Apple’s homepage, I was hooked on the design, and not knowing anything about it. Didn’t even realize that the Shuffle doesn’t come with a screen, which doesn’t let you see what tune is playing. That’s one of the reasons she doesn’t like it, and it is a legitimate one. As a tech (somewhat) savvy, I also find the Shuffle to be too simple at first, but now it’s the simplicity that I like. The little machine was design to do its job: to hold and play music. Because of its limitation, it forces me to be more specific on the music I select. As a habit, I often constrain myself to concentrate on a particular artist to soak in his style, technique, and execution, especially in jazz. So if I want to listen to Keith Jarrett, I have to experience his entire collection or albums and no one else until I could fully appreciate his music or can’t stand him anymore. So the Shuffle is useful for that purpose. My only complaint is that the Shuffle doesn’t allow you to import songs from another computer without wiping out what you have in there. Other than that, the Shuffle is not so bad. Every time I look at her these words come to mind: “Anh thay em nho xiu, nho xiu, anh cung.” The little iPod that is.

Aside from the technical and historical details documented in Robert Bringhurst’s The Elements of Typographic Style, what intrigues me about this classic book is the connection between typography and music:

Typography is to literature as musical performance is to composition: an essential act of interpretation, full of endless opportunities for insight or obtuseness. Much typography is far removed from literature, for language has many uses, including packaging and propaganda. Like music, it can be used to manipulate behavior and emotions. But this is not where typographers, musicians or other human beings show us their finest side. Typography at its best is a slow performing art, worthy of the same informed appreciation that we sometimes give to musical performances, and capable of giving similar nourishment and pleasure in return. (p. 19-20)

Bringhurst selected two perfect jazz musicians to illustrate time and space. Billie Holiday was famous for her extraordinary timing. She often sang behind the beat, but never missed it. To differentiate his style from Dizzy Gillespie’s fast and ferocious, Miles Davis left plenty of space in his phrasing to allow listeners to absorb his music. His timeless album, Kind of Blue, is a great example. Although this is a typography book and not music, I would love to hear how Thelonious Monk’s idiosyncratic use of space would be interpreted in typography. Nevertheless, here is Bringhurst’s analysis:

Phrasing and rhythm can move in and out of phase—as they do in the singing of Billie Holiday and the trumpet solos of Miles Davis—but the force of blues phrasing and syncopation vanishes if the beat is actually lost. Space in typography is like time in music. It is infinitely divisible, but a few proportional intervals can be much more useful than a limitless choice of arbitrary quantities. (p. 36)

I am surprised that Bringhurst didn’t use music to explain punctuation—just kidding! What surprised me though is learning grammar from a book on typography. I had been confused about punctuation’s position when quoting, and Bringhurst made it absolutely clear for the first time in just one sentence:

Punctuation is normally placed inside a closing single or double guillemet if it belongs to the quotation, and outside otherwise. Most North American editors like their commas and periods inside the raised commas, “like this,” but their colons and semicolons outside. Many British editors prefer to put all punctuation outside, with the milk and the cat. (p. 87)

Without a doubt, Robert Bringhurst’s The Elements of Typographic Style is a book every designer should read once a year.

Kudos to my web team at Vassar for the following links:

Marian Bantjes (simply amazing)
Reza Abedini (wicked typographic posters)
Iranian Typography Now (fantastic typographic works)
Dutch Uncle Agency (sweet illustrations)
PlainSimple Design (plain and simple)
Garrett Murray (clean and simple)
Pen & Think (simple and clean)

This is the reason I love working with these guys.

In 1994, Nas dropped his debut, Illmatic, and elevated hip-hop to another level. Since then, he represents the street lyricist, hood spokesman, and ghetto American Idol. Today, Nas drops a bold statement that Hip-hop is Dead and rappers that commercialized the game is responsible for killing her.

Now, at thirty-three, Nas has many roles to fill. As a hip-hop’s veteran, he’s speaking out for the legends of the game who were misrepresented. As a rapper’s MC, he’s accountable for “Carry on Tradition” and teaching the young heads the true meaning of hip-hop: the art form that comes from the gut, blood, and soul—not the papers. As a father, he’s praying that his daughter won’t grow wild like the Hilton sisters. That would kill him. As a grown, wise man, he’s not going back to the hood. You can take the man out of the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of him. At this point of his life, he’s rather be chilling than rhyming, which has always been Nas’s weakest spot. Even as a gifted storyteller, his tales turned stale. He spends more time reminiscing on hip-hop’s golden age than moving forward.

One of jazz finest drummers, Art Blakey, once said, “I’m gonna stay with the youngsters. When these get too old I’ll get some younger ones. Keeps the mind active.” That is what Nas needs—some young bloods to push his button. And we can witness it on The Game’s collaboration. Both Nas and Game rhyme like true “Hustlers” over Dr. Dre’s eerie arrangement, and Nas sounds hungrier than on most of the tracks where he seems forced to flow when he’s rather not. At the end of the day, hip-hop hasn’t died, just passed him by.

A fair comment from “a fair person” on my bitching of Asia 51:

Donny, how old are you? The voices you criticise Asia are so acid and angry [emphasis is mine], your sound like a man who is bitter after lost all your money at the casino and your old wife also left you for another man. You should go to learn the fine arts of criticise others to make your life lighter. What did you do for the VN music industry, except these reckless criticisms! If you have ability then, organise a CHEAP music show like Asia, that is the best way to prove your ability. If you can only criticise others irresponsibly like what you did now, it prove you are untalented ho ho.

As a reader of this site, you can see that I have no further interests in reviewing Vietnamese DVDs, which includes Asia, Thuy Nga, and Van Son. Not because of people’s comments, like the one from “a fair person” (which I find entertaining), but I am tired of writing the same old things like the videos doing the same old things. Yet, I am flattered that some readers still interested in my view by requesting and willing to loan me the DVDs so I can write about the latest Paris By Night.

Not that there aren’t any interesting things to say about these shows, but there simply aren’t anything new and exciting. To be fair, Paris By Night could be enjoyable if you don’t give a flying fuck about lip-sync, recycle of songs, mechanical productions, and Nguyen Cao Ky Duyen. Minh Tuyet’s ghetto ass still there; Truc Linh’s solid abs still there; and mad props to Ho Le Thu. She’s carrying the whole Silicon Valley on her chest. All the “Orange” County female singers should join Ho Le Thu in Silicon land. Paris By Night will be hotter than hell. Who wants to hear Khanh Ly with Tran Thu Ha (who looks a bit retarded while sitting there waiting for her verse) and Bang Kieu with Tuan Ngoc singing those old songs in the same old boring way? Just give me Ho Le Thu and more of that crazy bitch Kieu Oanh. That broad is way too damn hilarious, and she has been able to top herself from one act to the next. She was so good that by the time Hoai Linh came on screen (that doesn’t sound right), my jaws were too hurt to laugh.

From the press release, “Hopeless Romantic recounts Kristine’s life, loves, betrayals, heartbreak and hopes…” Sounds pretty hopeless to me.

You read it right: Saigon MC, not city. I don’t think there’s any connection between the rapper and Vietnam’s former city, but his mixtape joint, The Return Of The Yardfather with DJ Kay Slay and Clinton Sparks, isn’t so bad—except when he attemps to sing the blues.

Uncle Murda’s “I Shot the sheriff.” I only have issues with the pigs that hide behind the bush, eat doughnuts, beat their dick in one hand while hold a speed gun with the other.

That shit ain’t funny, Rosie. It is as tasteless as Michael Richards‘s N-word.

In design, nourishing your creativity is part of the game. Like flowers, once your creativity runs dry, your design will die. The question then how do you stay on top of the game and how to maintaining your creativities? In his new book, Analog In, Digital Out, Brendan Dawes gives us a personal tour into his daily creative-seeking journey. From riding the train to work everyday to listening to Thelonious Monk while working to observing how people travel whilst waiting for his flight departure, Brendan shares how these day-to-day experiences could feed his mind beyond what the web, books, and magazines within the field could offered. While the concept of searching for inspirations outside your circle isn’t new to me, what makes this book worth reading is how he actually puts these discoveries to work and continue to be inspired.