Unlike her previous release, which focused on Ngo Thuy Mien’s compositions, Khanh Ha’s new CD, Tu Muon Kiep Truoc, is all over the place. While the wide musical range—from pop to folk to jazz to pre-war to romantic ballad—added a mixture of colors, the overall experience is not so smooth. Even though her voice is excellent in almost all the tracks, the album doesn’t feel coherent, especially with four arrangers with different styles.

Furthermore, too many Paris By Night‘s hits (Quoc Dung’s “Chi La Mua Thu Roi,” Duc Tri’s “Nang Co Mua Xuan,” and Y Van’s “Long Me”) are integrated into the album. They are fantastic tunes, but I would like to see new materials or even new arrangements on a CD. I don’t mind the covering of “Bai Ngoi Ca Tinh Yeu” (A French ballad translated by Pham Duy) because of the fresh bossa nova-flavor. The beat is intoxicating and she knows how to bend and glide her vocals around the sensational rhythm. Same with Nguyen Anh 9’s “Hanh Phuc,” her vocals soar like a songbird over the semi-classical piano work. On the flip side, the silky sax and the programmed drumbeat bring down her rendition of Lam Phuong’s “Saigon Oi Vinh Biet.” Again her voice is exceptional in delivering Nguyen Hien’s “Ngan Nam May Bay,” but the rock-pop riff isn’t doing it for me.

What turns me off is that Tu Muon Kiep Truoc is more like a Thuy Nga than a Khanh Ha production. It feels more like a commercialized product than an independent work with too many crowd teasers and ear-candy productions. I respect the mother-dedicated “Long Me,” and it was fine to show on screen, but why put it on a new album? Hopefully, that’s not the selling point.

In the early 90s, medley was the trend. Every production pumped out medley albums one after another. I am not a fan of this mix-and-mash style, but I was hooked on Lien Khuc Tinh Xanh, a medley tape put out by Asia with Don Ho, Lam Thuy Van, and Kenny Thai holding down the vocal lines.

What makes this album stand out for me is the playful interaction between these three youngsters. Kenny is fantastic with his English; Don Ho is mesmerizing with his backup vocalizations; and Lam Thuy Van is fabulous in accompanying both male vocalists with her high pitch. Of course, Asia’s skillful arrangement works seamlessly to weave one tune to the next, especially with those electronic keyboard licks and up-tempo Latin rhythms.

Vocally, I just love the way the three trade lines with one another. Vu Thanh An’s “Bai Khong Ten Cuoi Cung” is a perfect example. Kenny and Lam Thuy Van kicks off the first verse, then Don Hon joins in at the chorus asking brokenheartedly, “Nay em hoi con duong em di do / con duong em theo do se dua em sang dau?” Lam Thuy Van replies sadly, “Mua ben chong se lam em khoc / se lam em nho nhung khi minh man nong.” Damn, that just cuts it.

And how could the ladies resist when Don Ho calls his lover in “Goi Ten Nguoi Yeu” at the end where he croons, “Roi anh se khoc / se khoc len goi long dau trien mien,” then cries his heart out with his voice. If he works on scatting, I am sure he can do it successfully. Another magnetizing piece is his Vietnamese rendition of “Unchained Melody” (“Mai Mai Yeu Em”) where his vocals ebb and flow around the mid-tempo beat. As for Kenny, no one does the Chinese translated tune, such as “There’s Only You In My Heart,” “I Love You More Than I Can Say,” and “Summer Kisses Winter Tears,” better than him. And who doesn’t love Lam Thuy Van for her exotic vocals, especially when she phrases, “The life’s unreal and the people are phony / And the nights can get so lonely / A single girl needs a lovely man to lean on.” Don’t you wish you could loan her your shoulder?

I could still remember when a friend of mine handed me this tape back in 92. I rocked it until I could sing along to every goddamn tune in it. Til this day, Lien Khuc Tinh Xanh is the only medley album I can jam to without getting bored because of the variation in production and diversity in song selection.

Phong Le’s “Lay Tien Cho Gai” is not bad for a homegrown production. The lyric is entertaining, and the beat is kind of tight too. He’s definitely better than that little Justin in Tinh Music. So Tinh should give him a shot.

Big up to Joseph for the link. Keep sending me the goodies y’all.

Hans Petter Moland’s The Beautiful Country recaptures the heart-wrecking experience of the boat-fleeing Vietnamese. With his understated charisma, Damien Nguyen—who plays an Amerasian escaping Viet Nam to find his American G.I. father—takes us on a boat ride that would leave our soul shattered, especially for those that had been through it. The hardest scene to watch is when Binh drops the body of his little brother Tam—plays by Tran Dang Quoc Thinh, an adorable little boy—into the sea. With the support of sexy Bai Ling, badass Tim Roth, and compassionate Nick Nolte, The Beautiful Country is a magnificent epic filled with bone-crushing emotions and striking visuals.

I have seen the term “nhac sen” being tossed around in various blogs and Web sites. Not only people don’t like to admit that they do listen to “nhac sen,” but they also hate to acknowledge that they don’t know what “nhac sen” is. So when being asked, they just throw out names like Truong Vu, Tuan Vu, Nhu Quynh, Manh Quynh, Manh Dinh, Ngoc Son, and Ngoc Ha. (Wait! Not the little chick with the big-ass voice. Let me take that back before somebody jumps on me.)

According to Thanh Nien‘s “Nhac ‘Sen’ La Gi?,” they argue that the word “sen” comes from “sen” (without the accent), which means maid. Because the music is being categorized in the lower class, the lyrics have to be easy to understand. Musically speaking, “nhac sen” has been written mostly, but not always, in bolero form. If you pay close attention to “sen” tunes, you will notice that the same rhythmic and harmonic are being used throughout the song from one bar to the next. With the lacking of inventions, variations, and improvisations, “Nhac Sen” is easy to spot. And how many times a “sen” singer like Truong Vu switches up his flow? That’s right, zero. Listening to his full album is like watching Chinese TV series. It just goes on and on. But that is what “nhac sen” is all about—a form of storytelling similar to American’s country music, which has been labeled as “cheesy” and “campy.”

If “nhac sen” is written correctly with folks essence embedded, and sung by the right singer, the listening experience could be rewarding. Some of the musicians who had written good “nhac sen” include Hoang Thi Tho, Lam Phuong, Anh Bang, Pham Dinh Chuong, and Pham Duy (yes, even Pham Duy has penned some “sen” songs too). So there is nothing wrong to admit that you like “nhac sen.” Don’t let people dictate your taste.

Whenever you feel hopeless, just put on Trinh Cong Son’s “Toi Oi Dung Tuyet Vong.” It will uplift your spirit. With Duy Cuong’s soothing orchestration, Nguyen Khang gives a soulful presentation.

(English translation by Van Mai)

Don’t despair, dear I, don’t despair
Autumn leaves fall amidst winter time
Don’t despair, beloved, don’t despair
You are I and I am you

The kite soars, but the soul stays empty
The kite dives, sinking the void into grief
Who am I who still conceal my tears?
Who am I who still am too human?
Who am I, am I, am I…
Who so love life

Don’t despair, dear I, don’t despair
Gold sunshine fades like pieces of my soul
Don’t despair, beloved, don’t despair
Be ingenious and you’ll be the sunrise
Here, an endless road under a solitary sunset
Here, a soul in which sorrow rises.

Ma has been making my favorite dishes lately. Yesterday, she made bau luoc (boiled gourd) with egg and mixed fishsauce. I just love the softness of the gourd and its light-sweet juice. Today she prepared kho ca sac (dried, salted fish) with mango salad. I am sure you can just imagine this mouth-watering dish without having to look at the photo. Besides, I don’t want you to drool all over my site when peeping at that sour mango with sugar and fishsauce. Can’t get any better than that, baby! The only problem is that she keeps torturing me with Tam Doan’s Guc Nga Vi Yeu. I don’t know if I should thank or curse Joseph (LOL!). But at least the music goes well with the meals, and help me take a little nap after I eat too.

Billie Holiday sings “Fine and Mellow” with a list of finest jazz players, including Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, Ben Webster, Gerry Mulligan, backing her up.

My man Count Basie swings with his band in “One O’Clock Jump.”

Duke Ellington’s “Mood Indigo.” His intro is crazy. Gotta love Duke’s mood.

My main men Miles Davis and John Coltrane in “So What.” After blowing his solo, Miles eases back and blows his smoke.

Check out one of jazz’s greatest drummers Jo Jones doing his thang!

(Don’t you just love YouTube?)

The Game is stepping up his flow in the lastest single, “One Blood,” from his forthcoming The Doctor’s Advocate. With the heavy, pounding beat produced by Reefa and himself, Game spits hard as hell, and even throwing punch at Jay-Z: “You 38 and you still rappin’?” Damn! Everybody want a piece of Jigga.

In Laurent Cantet’s Heading South, Albert (Lys Ambriose), a waiter at a tourist hotel in Haiti, confesses what his grandfather used to tell him: “the white man was an animal.” And today (1970 is when the film took place) their dollars is even more poisonous than their weapons. He went on, “Everything they touch turns garbage.” If Viet Nam is the white men’s “heaven on earth” (as I have been told), Haiti is the white women’s paradise. Single, old, white female can throw their dollars around and get the best sex from young, handsome, black Haitian—the exoticness they can’t get from the black Harlem brothers, according to one of the characters in the film.

Heading South revolves around the love triangle between two old white females and a young gigolo. Ellen (Charlotte Rampling) is a 55-year-old, French-literature teacher at Wellesley who spend her summer time at the hotel pimping young boys. Brenda (Karen Young)—a forty-eight-year-old, divorced, woman—returns to the hotel three years after she got her first orgasm from a fifteen-year-old Legba (Ménothy Cesar). She is obsessed with him not because she loves him, but she loves the way he looks at her. Something that no else, not even her ex-husband, had looked at her the same way. And of course, Legba is the sexy guy that made these old women falling head over hill for him. He got the pimp juice, the six-pack, and the seductive smile.

With Haitian’s gorgeous beach, well-crafted story, and convincing performances, Heading South is emotional, erotic, and political as well—not to mention both the soul- and physical- baring scenes. After all, money can’t buy love. You can only get what you paid for. But then again, money still rules. If you have cash, why need love?