I mean guys (except me not) love the pretty. If Ngo Thanh Van was ugly, there’s no way she could have sold her crappy debut, NTV Virus, for 600 bucks. Shit, even if Ha Tran auctioned her best album Nhat Thuc, the most she could get is 50 dollars. But I ain’t mad at NTV, she has to eat too. By the way, I still have an original copy of her album, and you can own it for 100 dollars. Anyone? Anh Binh, I know you want it.
My bad for keeps changing the colors on you. Visualgui.com is still my personal playground; therefore, I use her to experiment with colors and doing it live is kind of fun. It seems like you dig the dark background, and it sure fits well with my gloomy mind. Of course, I couldn’t put a nude picture right in front of your face, but it was an interesting experimentation. While I still am in this dark mood (thanks to some of you), I found the photo, which you are seeing right now, from Ao Trang’s collection that has the wicked quality I want to convey. So to the folks at Ao Trang: I owe you guys another beer.
Purple Refrain is Peter Zak’s jazz interpretations of Trinh Cong Son’s and Ngo Thuy Mien’s compositions. Check out the album at Dieu’s JustGoodTunes. She does have some very good tunes.
You must be thinking that I am out of my mind for associating two totally unrelated artists. Sure, Trinh Cong Son has been dubbed as Vietnamese’s Bob Dylan for his war-protested songs, but Jimi Hendrix? What’s the connection? If you listen to Hendrix’s Axis: Bold as Love, you’ll see where I am getting at. While both Trinh and Hendrix seemed to live in their own world, their worlds wouldn’t exist without earth, moon, and women. And we could see them in their whimsical lyrics. For some reasons, the fairy image in Hendrix’s “Little Wing” shares some similarities with Trinh’s “Ru Em Tung Ngon Xuan Nong,” particularly lines such as: “Well she’s walking through the clouds… / When I’m sad, she comes to me / With a thousand smiles, she gives to me free.” If that’s not convincing enough, how about Hendrix’s poetic description in “She’s so Fine” with “The sun from a cloud sinks into her eyes / The rain from a tree soaks into her mind?” Do these lines ring a bell? Trinh’s “Nhu Canh Vac Bay,” maybe? While Trinh’s philosophy is to live a happy life (“Hay yeu ngay toi / Du qua met kiep nguoi / Con cuoc doi ta cu vui”), Hendrix’s view is to live your own life. In the ending of “If 6 was 9,” he spoke softly, “I’m the one that’s gonna die when it’s time for me to die / So let me live my life the way I want to.” Alright, maybe I’ve been drawn way too deep into Hendrix’s psychedelic mind and soul. Maybe you’re right. I am out of my fucking mind.
If Nhu Huy’s volume one, Cham Vao, featured only Nghi Van, I have nothing to say. With Nhu Huy’s lackluster lyricism, Hong Kien’s lifeless production, and Nghi Van’s energy-free delivery, getting through two tracks in a row is damn near impossible. Nghi Van has a gruff voice, but lacks the soulfulness. On the other hand, Tung Duong is the cat that has tremendous soul, but forced to be restrained to perform Nhu Huy’s compositions. As a result, he couldn’t express Nhu Huy’s lyrics as well as he could with Le Minh Son’s songs. Like Ha Tran, Tung Duong constantly pushes himself, and unlike Ha Tran, he has the chops for scat-singing. Although “Nam Mo” isn’t outstanding, the track stands out the most in the album. Tung Duong weaves his weirdly-syncopated vocals around the up-tempo beat and gives a trumpet-mimicked scat near the end. Even though the arrangement in “Xin Dung Hoi Toi” is suitable for hot-tub music, the interaction between Hong Kien’s sax and Tung Duong’s voice is refreshing. So far, Tung Duong is the only Vietnamese male singer that has the potential for jazz vocals; therefore, he should develop further into improvisational style, and work on his vocal chords unto an instrument itself. Give me some hope, and stop fooling around with the pop shit.
Live recordings of Trinh Cong Son and Khanh Ly at Quan Van in 1967. The collection is timeless. Thanks to Ducster. I hope you don’t mind me sharing this rare gem.
Jimi Hendrix’s infamous album cover of Electric Ladyland was picked as favorite design of the month by NowWashYourHands (so we could eat). Jimi sure was a “dreamfucker” (Greg Tate‘s word).
Norah Jones’ “I’ve Got To See You Again” (the beat and the voice are so damn seductive)
Jane Monheit’s “Love Me Or Leave Me” (Dig the switch between word and wordless interaction)
Diana Krall’s “Love Me Like a Man” (those blues chops are off the chain)
Madeleine Peyroux’s “Blue Alert” (Billie, Billie, can’t you see? Your voice just hipnotized me)
Mad props to Dieu!
For Thuy Van and her debut No Le Mot Cuoc Tinh: Shut up and dance.
All I know is that Ly Tong was arrested for littering papers in Viet Nam. That’s how much I care about Vietnamese politics. Le Huy Phong of Heart2Exist, on the other hand, is more aware of controversy than I am. He even made an unauthorized biography of Ly Tong, in which he praises Mr. Tong as “The courageous son of mother Viet Nam.” Call me an ass all you want, but I can’t take Phong or the rest of his H2E crew seriously. Sure, I give him the credit for being original, but he has no flows, no rhyming skills, and nada delivering techniques. Oh yeah, the chorus singing is a joke, too. By the way, what the fuck is up with the hip-hop cai luong shit? Stop clowning, dog!
