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.

Before Trinh Cong Son’s music being molested, there were a few artful Trinh’s songbooks. Don Ho’s Ha Trang is one of them. Although the album released three years ago, it still sounds much fresher than the new ones out there now, thanks to trackmaster Dong Son for laying down crisp, imaginative productions. With a blend of organic vibe and electric flavor, Dong Son and his soundmen (Dustin Ngo on piano, Gary Garriton on harp, Le Ngoc on acoustic guitar, and Vu Anh Tuan on saxophone) blow new grooves into Trinh’s composition. Don’s rendition of “Dem Thay Ta La Thac Do” is still the most innovative reconstruction so far. While he gives the lyrics a light touch, his voice flow like water cascading down the waterfall-sounding arrangement. In “Xin Tra No Nguoi,” he maintains the buoyancy in his delivery to allow the trance-fused beat to do the renovation of the aged tune. The best part of the club-friendly “Nghe Nhung Tan Phai” is when Dustin Ngo breaks down his short but hypnotizing piano solo, like Chick Corea is in the house. Even though not every track is as successful as I would hope, Ha Trang, which is way underrated, still has its creative moment that deserves the recognition.

After a long delay, Ngo Minh Tri’s Buon C Major, a Vietnamese semi-classic, jazz, and bossa-nova album, is now ready to be shipped. Sample audios and purchase information are available at his Web site.

As much as I worship the ground he spitted on, I am fucking done with Trinh Cong Son’s albums. Seven LPs (“Tinh Khuc Trinh Cong Son”) released in Viet Nam within the last couple of months: two instrumentals from Lang Van production, two from Hong Nhung, one from Lo Thuy, Thai Hoa, and Khanh Ngoc, and let not include an array of albums in which three or four of his songs slipped in. How ridiculous is that? I am sure singers have many respect for Trinh, but they are abusing his work for their own good even if they don’t intend to. And they all have legitimate reasons for singing his music: I am in the stage of my life where I need Trinh’s music; I could feel his lyrics; I get a strong connection with his words, like telekinesis; Everytime I sing his music, I could feel what he was saying and what he had been through. Last year, the trend was how to make Trinh’s music sounds difference by throwing in some jazz and semi-classical elements or screaming their lungs out. This year, they want to stay with the original context and sing his music the way he intended. What a bunch of bullshit. It’s sad to witness his work being desecrated to the point of no control. I am sure Trinh Cong Son’s timeless work will never die, but right now it is becoming diegetic music. It’s really a damn shame.

I have managed to create a blog (another one?) on Yahoo just so I can interact with Luat Danh, Dieu Hien, and Diem Thuyen—the 360’s circle. And I am not ashamed to admit that I rape both of Luat’s and Dieu’s site to get the latest goodies. They are my weed suppliers. As for the name, why Jazz Me Boo? Beat the hell out of me. I really don’t know what to do with the blog either. So I just post up whatever pleases my eyes. So far only pretty chicks catch my sight.

Hip-hop is a form of music that people either love or hate. As soon as they hear “we don’t love them hoes,” they immediately dismiss hip-hop as unaesthetic, and they disdain the whole culture. Rap is only the voice of hip-hop. There are other elements to hip-hop such as DJing as the sound, b-boying as the motion, and graffiti as the visual. My appreciation for hip-hop is deeper than the music itself. Unlike many Vietnamese Americans, I struggled to learn English through books and classes; therefore, I used hip-hop to study English, which explains the tone, grammar, sentence structure, and style in my writing.

As much as I love rap music, it is damn near impossible to convince my cousins, who are doctor, dentist, pharmacist, college professor, and computer engineers, that hip-hop is a work of art. Back in the day, it was not so hard to breakdown how Rakim‘s lyricism is art even when he uses the analogy of an addict to describe his obsession with hip-hop: “I’m just an addict, addicted to music / Maybe it’s a habit, I gotta use it / Even if it’s jazz or the quiet storm / I hook a beat up, convert it into hip-hop form / Write a rhyme in graffiti, and every show you see me in / Deep concentration, cause I’m no comedian.”

With today’s hip-hop, breaking down the music as an art form is much harder. As much as I dig Cam’ron‘s vibrato flow as well as his silly but witty figure of speech, his lyric is unfeasible to support. How could we even explain something like this: “First pile up in the rear, I style up in my gear / Stallion of the year, medallions in my ear / Whips on my fists, houses on my wrists / Your budget on my neck, your spouse on my dick / Posters on the wall, posted on my balls / Dick in her mouth, I tell her (I’m getting money nigga)?” Well, as you can see, all he’s saying is the money you spent buying his record is on his bling while your wife is on his thing.

Not that I need to persuade anyone to listen to hip-hop, but I still believe that rap is a powerful music that allows artists to express themselves. As far as I am concern, rap music will never be fully blossomed in Viet Nam. Besides the lack of knowledge from the imitated Vietnamese MCs, Viet Nam has no such right as freedom of speech.