Vuong Dung, winner of Sao Mai Diem Hen (Vietnamese Idol) in 2005, is under the influence of Thanh Lam. No harm in that, as long as she could carry her individual style. And she has with the rendition of Pho Duc Phuong’s “Khong The Va Co The” in her debut Trai Cam Mat Troi. Although her flow and phrasing are drawn heavily from Thanh Lam, she knows how to steer her performance away from the queen of pop, and makes it her own.

With a powerful, light-scratched voice and a marvelous intonation, Vuong Dung brings a new aroma to the Vietnamese pop fragrance, and her distinctiveness can be found in Nguyen Cuong’s “Thanh Pho Mien Quan Ho.” She rides skillfully in and out of the up-tempo arrangement, takes her time crooning the folk essence, and recites naturally the witty rhymes. On top of all that, she isn’t afraid to play around with her delivery, which makes her performance so elating. Furthermore, her northern style is so damn seductive that listening to her accent makes me want to sleep with her. And when she pours her heart out on the jazz-flavored “Bao La Buon” (also a Nguyen Cuong’s composition), I wish I could fly to her and take away her immeasurable loneliness by touching her hair, face, and whatever sad parts on her body. But when she gets rough and rocked-up in “Trai Cam Mat Troi” (another song from Nguyen Cuong), you know she is no weak soul. If a woman wants to pick the “orange sun” just to give it to you, what more could you ask for? If you could have that woman by your side, the world is yours.

In the album-closer “Ben Song” written by Nguyen Hoang Ha, songbird Vuong Dung completely changed her flow, and yet still giving the tune a heartfelt presentation. Besides the captivating vocals, what leaves listeners yearning for more is the striking orchestration from Duc Nghia who is the main man behind album’s productions.

It’s time for a bit of visual change. Back to white background. Goodbye Google’s AdSense as well. The experiment is shorter than what I have expected. Enjoy the new look!

Off topic: Connie Chung sang “Thanks For The Memory.” Was she on crack or something?

Jazz was originated in America, but has been embraced worldwide. Musicians around the globe have been using her rhythms and syncopations to introduce their own music to the world. Lately, the blending of eastern and western sound is becoming a new trend. The Twelve Girls Band is being recognized for weaving traditional sounds (Chinese instruments) into pop and jazz styles. Recently, the Mezcal Jazz Unit from France has teamed up with Vietnamese musicians to bring us Tim Gio (Looking For the Wind), a collaborative effort between two cultures.

As much as I appreciate the attempt from these musicians to bring something new to the table, I don’t experience a smooth fusion connecting the two groups. But instead, each instrument fights for your ears, like the whole Wu-Tang Clan is spitting in one mic. The reed section blows its own horn. The traditional instruments (dan nhi, dan bau, dan tranh) strike their own chords. The weak rhythm section does not swing. The saxophone improvisation is monotonous or lacks humanistic expression most of the time, but when it gets dissonant (on the title track for instance), it becomes John Coltrane’s sheets-of-sound imitation.

The biggest problem with Tim Gio is the chaotic sounds coming out of multiple directions. That’s not the way jazz-fusion works. When Miles Davis recorded Bitches Brew, the sounds came together coherently even though he had multiple electric keyboards, multiple drums, multiple basses, and multiple horns playing at once. The end result was an organic sound that felt so damn natural to the ears.

The album also has tried to provoke conversations between eastern and western instruments, but the outcome is like one speaks Vietnamese while the other speaks French in a mashup dialogue. The exchange is not even close to what avant-garde Ornette Coleman had produced forty-five years ago in The Shape of Jazz to Come. Coleman’s sax and Don Cherry’s trumpet were carrying on a call-and-response effect provided by the incredible rhythm section from bassist Charlie Haden and drummer Billy Higgins.

Too bad Tim Gio didn’t find its wind, but at least it is a perfect album to relax with. And I am feeling the dan t’rung (a musical instrument of the minority people in the Central Highlands of Vietnam) vibration in “Cent Pour Cent” played by Cao Ho Nga.

I love you, daddy!

I have been wanting to tryout AdSense to see if it works. Since the right side of this site has some empty space and the ads box does not interfere with the main content, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. Maybe I could get some extra bucks from it to buy real CDs so that I don’t have to harass singers’ PR. In fact, I might not have to pen any more reviews, but just share the albums for you guys to do the justice. I’ll place the ad for a month or two, if it is worthwhile, I’ll keep it.

By the way, mad props to Hoa for the delicious albums. I’ll give them a spin when I am on the road. Have a great weekend y’all, and try to click on the ads while enjoying the games.

Ange Maya’s digital illustration is what I see when I listen to Miles Davis’s Bitches Brew, which has been on heavy rotation in my car. The two-bar ostinatos from the mixture of acoustic and electronic sounds, especially on “Spanish Key,” run down your spines like pumping cool waves into your vein with a needle. Davis’s organic, space, chillout flavors gave jazz and rock a beautiful marriage as if they were meant for each other. The album released in 1969, yet it still sounds fresher than ever. Don’t care what the critics said, Prince of Darkness was an inventive genius and Bitches Brew is a masterpiece.

On my way to work this morning, I needed some heavy beats to keep me going as I am kicking my caffeine habit. As I was vibing with Prodigy’s “Smack My Bitch Up,” suddenly a bird smacked right into my car. I tried to brake, but it was too late. Sorry birdie! The incident has changed the way I feel about the song. Progidy has created one of the most hardcore-lovemaking tunes. Just put that shit on and drawers drop mighty fast. But now, all I can think about is the poor bird lying dead on the street. The whole perception just fucked up.

For all the soccer fans. Nice bounce!

What in the world is Khanh Linh doing with her sophomore Ban Mai Xanh? She is trying way too hard to be modern, yet her soprano voice, which is more adequate for traditional music, hardly flows with the contemporary productions. Quoc Trung’s electronic arrangement is rich and colorful on “Ngay Khong Mua,” but Khanh Linh’s languorous delivery works against it. I can’t even believe what the hell I am listening to when she attempts to swing on Nguyen Manh Cuong’s “Du Anh Khong Den.” Through her flow and lacking of technical skills, I could sense that she has no groove at all. Even the keyboard solo swings much better than her vocals. When she goes schmaltzy on Giang Son and Nguyen Vinh Tien’s “Giac Mo Trua,” her breathy, windy delivery is definitely suitable for an afternoon nap. I had hope for her when she released her debut, but I am completely disappointed now. She has a remarkable voice, but damn she is using it wrong.

It’s funny to hear how Truong Ky keeps reemphasizing that Tuan Anh is differ from everyone else, and no one else is similar to him, in a VOA broadcast. Like we haven’t already known that Tuan Anh is an oddball. As queer as he is, Tuan Anh is a wonderful PR himself. He had successfully convinced the audience to accept him for who he is or what he projects on stage. Who could have a much harder time than him in doing that? Just when I thought pointing out PR to a Vietnamese singer is like playing chess with a retarded kid, he proves me wrong. He is wise enough to recognize that showing his face on every video is not a good thing. Listening to him in live concert is quite an experience. Not only he could pour his heart out into a song (his performance of “Mot Lan Mien Vien Xot Xa” still stuck in my head), but he could also interact with the audience. He is quite an entertainer, and a clever one too.

It’s funny to read an article on pirating music, yet no one knows who is the original writer. What even funnier is when listening to both of the demos embedded in the article they called hip-hop. I call them Vietnamese Milli Vanilli.

It’s funny how every time I write a post on Trinh Cong Son album, readers always refer back to Khanh Ly. I am not being offensive here, but let me get my point across. There is no innovation in Khanh Ly’s performances. That’s not a bad thing at all. She sings his music the way Trinh wanted his music to be sung. That’s good because I can use Khanh Ly as a based model to hear how other singers break free from his original intention. Even Thanh Lam admitted that no one could sing Trinh’s music better than Khanh Ly; therefore, she had to find her own niche.