I’ve been feeling Jay-Z lately, particularly The Blueprint and The Black Album. Listen to both joints, one after another, generates a fascinating experience. Jay moves from a young hustler (Blueprint) into a grown man (Black Album).

Although the Blueprint is not as intriguing as the classic Reasonable Doubt, Jay proves that he still has his hustling swag. In “U Don’t Know,” a soulful production from Just Blaze, Jay rhymes, “I sell ice in the winter, I sell fire in hell / I am a hustler baby, I’ll sell water to a well / I was born to get cake, move on and switch states / Cop the Coupe with the roof gone and switch plates / Was born to dictate, never follow orders / Dickface, get your shit straight, fucka this is Big Jay.” In contrast to Shawn-Carter-the-hustler in Blueprint and Reasonable Doubt, Black Album finds Jay mellows out as he reflects on his accomplishments throughout his rapping career: “There’s never been a nigga this good for this long / This hood, or this pop, this hot, or this strong / With so many different flows there’s one for this song / The next one I switch up, this one will get bit up.”

Personally, Black Album is Jay’s finest work in term of his wise words and def flows. Whenever I am on the freeway these days, I set my cruise control at 70mph so that I don’t have to look out for the bitch-ass cops, and just experience the whole CD straight through with my eyes on the road and my ears and mind on his every word. Jay’s delivery is so natural and effortless that he could even punctuate his flow. In “Moment of Clarity,” he raps with confidence over Eminem’s hypnotic beat and violin sampling, “We as rappers must decide what’s most important / And I can’t help the poor if I’m one of them / So I got rich and gave back, to me that’s the win/win / So next time you see the homey and his rims spin / Just know my mind is working just like them… rims, that is.” Love the way he pauses and then adds in the parenthetic expression.

Unfortunately Jay has left his artistic vision behind and moved on to the business side of the game. Jay needs to get his ass off that CEO’s chair and back to the lab because the game needs his presence.

Mia Goldman who is a Vassar alumna presented a preview screening of her debut Open Window to the Vassar community last Wednesday. Goldman wrote the script, directed, and edited her own work. The film, which will hit the theaters in September, is based on Goldman’s personal tale regarding to a woman’s struggling to recuperate after being raped and beaten. The sweet life with her fiancé and everyone around her turns sour after the incident as the victim tries to deal with her drama.

Although the subject is heavily intense, Goldman throws in a few appropriate jokes to lighten up the atmosphere. The chemistry between the actors—Robin Tunny, Joel Edgerton, Cybill Shepherd, and Elliot Gould—is wonderful, but the storyline is not so moving. The pace is 97 minutes long, but it seems much longer. The problem is that the film tries to get a message across instead of delve into the art. A great example is when Izzy (the victim) explained to the psychiatrist why she didn’t report to the police. Her reasoning was that she made a promise to him not to tell anyone so that he wouldn’t kill her. She went on and explained that she saw some humanness in his eyes when they exchanged a few lines, even though he slapped her, threatened to stick a screwdriver into her head, made her blew him, and raped her. If I could remember correctly, the psychiatrist responded with something like Izzy had begun a relationship with the rapist. Now that is something interesting. Unfortunately, the film never came back to that topic again.

Other then that, I don’t see Open Window as being distinctive from other sexual-assaulted films. Victims were raped, humiliated, and remained silence trying to deal with it. From a male and a foreigner viewpoint, I find it ironic because America is one of the most voiced countries in the world. We express ourselves freely and blatantly from politic to sex to anything else. Yet when it comes to rape, we’re having a hard time fronting it. If Open Window is based on a true story, I am sure the guy who raped her would be watching it, patting himself, and saying, “Damn! I did her good.”

These days, many Vietnamese male singers, including Bang Kieu and Tran Thai Hoa, attempt to give their performances a smooth-out flavor by rounding up their vocals. Most of them end up in the sissy instead of sexy territory, which irritates my ears. Duc Tuan is one of a few young singers that could pull it off and still maintain his masculinity. In fact, his cocksure technique makes other cats sound like pussies. He has a fervent, handsome, and strong voice with a wide range of emotions, which allows him to bend and glide easily between rough and gloss phrasings.

His interpretation of Pham Duy’s and Trinh Cong Son’s music in Ngam Ngui… Chiec La Thu Phai is fabulously fresh. The album has only six tracks (three from each songwriter), but the quality of the arrangement and performance makes up for the quantity. His rendition of “Toi Ru Em Ngu” starts off with a strumming guitar, and then builds into a full-blown orchestration. The acoustic drumbeat in between gives the tune a contemporary aroma. In contrast to Nguyen Khang’s wry version of Pham Duy’s “Thuyen Vien Xu,” Duc Tuan’s gorgeous legato provides a warm, comforting vibe to the composition. Despite the opposite approach each singer takes, one quality remains in common is the testosterone in their delivery.

After proved his success with classic ballads, Duc Tuan takes on a different direction in Tinh Yeu Trong Sang with brand new songs written and composed by Quoc Bao. I support his bravado in breaking away from his comfort space, but Quoc Bao’s music isn’t suitable for his style. The title track is passable, but the rest is unenergetic. Even in “Dua Em” (a track that Tran Thai Hoa would slaughter), his soothing, relaxing flow isn’t bringing out its liveliness. Worse track on the whole joint is the corny, tacky “Hold On, Baby.” Duc Tuan’s English accent is barely understandable, and Quoc Bao’s lyric is just straight elementary. I could hardly distinguish what he sings, but the words go something like this: “All of the nights that I miss you / All of the stuffs that I gave you / … / Change the right to the wrong / when you leave my love.” I speculate that Quoc Bao tried to write within his limited vocabulary.

Two albums demonstrate where Duc Tuan’s strength is in. Experimentation is excellent, and I don’t expect him to recover old tunes again and again like many do, but he needs to choose his repertoire wisely. He definitely has the right voice and remarkable skills for intimate-atmospheric music.

If Viet Nam War’s politic is a boxing sport, no one punches the controversial bag harder than Asia production. In Nhat Truong/Tran Thien Thanh dedication, Asia, once again, elevated the art-of-war music and visual. Inducing the ebullience of an adrenaline rush, the show opens with explosive gunshots, flashes of bomb bursts, and smoke of ashes. Accompanied by the battling stimulation of the musical arrangement, Thanh Lan approaches “Anh Khong Chet Dau Anh” with a heart of a combating woman. Her voice soars with braveness and her face expresses courageousness. Her strident performance packs more heat than the oven door.

Even though the video is filled with political propaganda, Asia have managed to balance it out with mesmerizing performances from start to finish—even Trish and Asia 4 are listenable in the remix of “Tinh Thu Cua Linh.” Asia’s musical producers, especially Truc Ho, have an ear for making old tunes sound fresh and clean. “Bay Ngay Doi Mong” is a gorgeous bossa-nova orchestration with the invigorating mesh of violins, saxophone, and piano. Both Truc Mai (old generation) and Y Phuong (new generation) bring their unique voices to the tune. Another delightful arrangement is the simple picking-guitar on “Ta Tu Trong Dem,” a song I loved when I was a kid, and hearing Phuong Dung’s ageless voice floats over the rumba rhythm strikes a nostalgic chord.

“Han Mac Tu” is a savory gap-bridging performance between Thanh Thuy and Y Phung. The contrast between Thanh Thuy’s thick, raucous voice and Y Phung’s thin, clear vocals produced an intriguing effect. Y Phung is pretty damn hot too (hopefully she won’t turn trampy any time soon). Speaking of appearances, Kim Anh’s figure looks amazing for her age and in the sky-blue ao dai (long dress). Her slightly raspy voice is marvelous next to Tuan Vu’s warmness. While we’re on long dress, what Diem Lien puts on—the black dress, the pearl necklace, and the hairstyle—epitomizes a Vietnamese woman.

Nguyen Khang is a bit disappointed in “Khi Nguoi Yeu Toi Khoc” with Ngoc Ha. He doesn’t hit the high note like he gets to do at the end of the program with the group collaboration, in which he is assigned to take charge of the bridge. Don Ho’s rendition of “Tinh Dau Tinh Cuoi” isn’t so bad, but he could not surpass Ngoc Lan’s version. In “Tinh Co Nhu Khong,” the young Anh Minh is even better than the wannabe-young Mai Le Huyen. The attempt of pairing up Da Nhat Yen and Pham Khai Tuan is a huge mismatch. Putting a rhythmless dude who could barely pull off a two-step move next to my dancing queen, what were they thinking? Should have let her run the show herself.

The most bone-wrenching performance is Lam Thuy Van and Lam Nhat Tien’s “Nguoi O Lai Charlie.” The cries of Lam Thuy Van’s voice combined with the image of a helmet positioned on a gun gave me a chill. Asia 50 is undoubtedly an audacious political statement. Too bad the video is filmed after the talented songwriter Tran Thien Thanh/singer Nhat Truong had already left us. Imagine how much more powerful it could have been if we could hear the man himself talks about his own work. Now that would be priceless.

According to the sitcom, “Con Duong Nghe Thuat Chong Gai,” in Paris By Night 81: Am Nhac Khong Bien Gioi 2, I am not qualified to criticize Thuy Nga’s product since I didn’t pay twenty five bucks for it, even though I get to watch the original DVD. I am not interested in writing another review since ninety-six percent of the video is garbage anyway. Yes, even Tuan Ngoc’s performance is awful. Mad kowtows, however, to his pops Lu Lien. Even with such an unaesthetic program, Thuy Nga still manage to sell their product, and I have to give their marketers the credits for that. They know their real consumers, and they know how to entertain them. Who are they targeting? The Vietnamese married men.

Unlike American married men who find their entertainment in strippers, Vietnamese married men are either too shy or too scared to step into strip spots, and Thuy Nga marketers see that. Somebody has to entertain the Vietnamese married men because their wives don’t. When was the last time a wife stripped her for man? She makes love to him, but she doesn’t tease him. Part of a wife’s responsibility is to make sure her man gets his mandicine. And when a woman works twelve hours a day (many Vietnamese women do), she just wants to get it done and over with. So she would give him a quick blowjob, just enough for him to be hard for five minutes. After that she could get a peaceful rest. She satisfies his needs, but won’t entertain him. So he has to find another way to entertain himself.

Why and how do Thuy Nga marketers target Vietnamese married man? Buying a Thuy Nga’s video is like killing birds with one stone. He could get his fantasy on while watching Paris By Night’s video with his wife and kids. Thuy Nga are so clever at incorporating PG-13 entertainment into their videos. Let’s take Minh Tuyet’s performance of “Da Khong Yeu Thi Thoi” for example. She is so good at stripping that she doesn’t even need a pole, and Thuy Nga wouldn’t want it to be so obvious either. To take the performance to the next level, they wanted to give a sense that she is floating in the air by grabbing on to the red curtain. To pull this off, they have four strong hands behind the curtain supporting her ghetto booty (Damn! I want that job). She works like a professional stripper while the camera focuses on her slightly sagged breasts. She even pulls off some of her garments. If her presentation is not a strip tease, I don’t know what is. Minh Tuyet is not alone, the usual suspects includes Nhu Loan, Bao Han, Loan Chau, Ho Le Thu, Thuy Tien, and Luu Bich.

To show how much a Vietnamese married man loves his wife, he would run out and buy Thuy Nga’s DVDs whenever they release regardless if they are good or bad as long as the whole family can enjoy. He could sleep through other performances as well as Nguyen Ngoc Ngan’s and Nguyen Cao Ky Duyen’s yakidiyak, just make sure to wake him up when the girls come on stage.

I’ve been receiving automated messages from my host every six hours stating: “The domain visualgui.com has reached 80% of its bandwidth limit. Please contact the system admin as soon as possible.” 80% of 400 gigabytes data transfer in less than a month is overwhelming. Didn’t realize that I am packing more traffic than the streets of Sai Gon. To reduce the congestion, I have to temporarily move all the Motion pieces to the school server, delete the miscellaneous folder (Flash music files and images), and disable all the food photos in the Eatery section. Hopefully, the site can survive until the end of the month without exceeding 400 gigs of bandwidth. In case Visualgui.com does go offline, please come back on May 1st. Keep the faith in me. Only technology can disconnect me from you.

Knowing that I am a scat freak, a colleague of mine handed me Jazz for Kids: Sing, Clap, Wiggle, and Shake—an album he bought for his daughters—so that I could listen to Clark Terry “Mumbles” over Oscar Peterson’s glibness of piano technique. It turns out that I already have this masterpiece (of course I should have it because I am a jazz piano freak also, and Peterson was my man), but the whole record blows me away. It is such a fantastic compilation for kids to jam with.

Ella Fitzgerald has me swinging to “Old McDonald” with her playful rendition. By applying her melodic embellishments and child-like sensibility, she makes one of the most annoying songs of all time sounds superior. The arrangement is hypnotizing—particularly the way the trumpet imitates the chicken sound. In contrast, Slim Gaillard uses his vocals to imitate the chicken voice in “Chicken Rhythm” and his scat sounds exactly like a trumpet. The result is amazing. I am having a blast grooving to the “Chicken Rhythm” like a little kid in the roller-skating ring (I am sure you all remember those chicken dances).

From Lionel Hampton’s “Rag Mop” to Carmen McRae’s “When The Red, Red, Robin Comes Bob, Bobbin’ Along” to Blossom Dearie’s “Doop-Doo-De-Doop (A Doodlin’ Song),” Jazz for Kids is a perfect collection for both the parents and kids to enjoy. If you love jazz and would like to introduce her to your kids, this album is highly recommended. But make sure you let them know that Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” is not true jazz. Not sure why it was included in a jazz album when Pops had tons of classic scat songs in his early Hot-Five-and-Hot-Seven days. Other than that, I have been rocking this kiddy joints again and again just so I can feel young all over again. Now let me go train my two-year-old nephew, who doesn’t want to talk yet, to mumble along with Clark Terry and show my six-year-old niece to do the chicken dance, or the other way around.

Is it just me or the album cover of Tran Thai Hoa’s Tinh Khuc Le Uyen Phuong is a rip-off of Michael Bublé’s It’s Time? Other than the ugly typography on Tran Thai Hoa’s CD, the black suit and the loose tie are dead-on identical. Disgraceful is on Thuy Nga’s graphic designer as well as fashion artist. Why do I always disdain Thuy Nga’s products? Because they have been making desecrated music continuously, and Le Uyen Phuong’s songbook is another instance.

Except for the blues-inflected “Vung Lay Cua Chung Ta” and the bossa nova-flavored “Noi Buon Dang Nho,” the twelve remaining tracks are wimped-out, noodling, and vulgar efforts to revamp old tunes. The arrangements are drowsy, especially the overexploitation of the fuzak saxophone (“Buon Den Bao Gio”) and trumpet (“Cho Lan Cuoi”), yet Tran Hoai Hoa’s snoring voice is drowsier. His rendition of “Da Khuc Cho Tinh Nhan” is being crushed like black peppers by Nguyen Khang’s powerful and savory version. His cheesy phrasing (especially his enunciation of “hoa”) in “Tinh Khuc Cho Em” is so gay and lame.

Since Thuy Nga productions have not been able to release any new music, they have to find a way to pull listeners’ cash out of their pockets (thanks to the Internet, or I’ll be damn broke by now with piles of junks). And they do so by polishing up old songs and assigning to someone who is least expected from the audiences to be able to pull them off. The tactic of Tran Thai Hoa sings Le Uyen Phuong is not much difference from Minh Tuyet collaborates with Bang Kieu. What is the end result? Both albums flop, but people will buy them to find out how bad they sound. I, too, take great pleasure in listening to mundane music in order to appreciate higher arts.

Working at Vassar is hard not to learn new skills or not to be inspired when we’re always indulged with design-related resources. Lawrence Zeegen’s Digital Illustration: A Master Class in Creative Image-making is the latest book being passed around the Vassar’s Web-design crew. Although the heart and soul of the book is the jaw-dropping illustrations, the history of image-making is no less interesting, especially with the influences of pop culture such as punk rock, hip-hop, and pornography. With digital tools—Mac computer, digital camera, scanner—being affordable and easy to access, the process of integrating media and techniques is much smoother and faster. An artist can move freely from paper-sketching to digital-crafting or vice versa. Digital Illustration is a wonderful source of inspiration.

With a collection of essays written by music scholars, Bad Music: The Music We Love To Hate edited by Christopher Washburne and Maiken Derno is both refreshing and informing to read. The book delves into various genres—country, pop, world music, smooth jazz, folk, and punk rock—that are often ignored by the academic’s gatekeepers. Discussions such as “Camp vs. Cheese,” “Why Smooth Jazz is Not Part of Historical Narratives,” and “Badness as ‘Aesthetically Unbearable Style'” help readers understand the “musical badness” without being disdainful. As someone whose interests include music writing, I find Bad Music to be helpful and insightful.