Never mind what I said about no comments. It’s getting mad cold up in here, let’s bring the heat back. I’ll try to find other solutions for the hosting problem.

Workboy (homeboy at work) Tim got me hooked on The Beastie Boys through iTune’s sharing. I’ve been rocking Paul’s Boutique like it is the freshest shit since LL’s “Rock the Bells.” The ingenious samplings—old-school beats, metal-guitar riffs, and jazz-keyboard licks—are groovy as hell. Getting past their in-your-face voices, one can find their skillful trading lines to be exhilarating. Their punch rhymes are witty as well: “A lot of parents like to think I’m a villain / I’m just chillin’ like Bob Dylan / I smoke cheeba it helps me with my brain / I might be a little dusted but I’m not insane / People come up to me and they try to talk shit / Man, I’ve been making records since you were sucking on your mother’s dick.”

Visualgui.com sure feels cold and lonely without the visitors’ voice. Comments make this place more exciting because they give her a sense of community, but dealing with them takes tremendous efforts. Whenever comments are enabled, so are spams, but let’s not get into that. The much harder part is to go through every comment to see if it is appropriate or not. Ninety percent of the time, I don’t care if the comments are aimed at me (What can I do? Some people just love throwing rocks at my throne.). But when controversial issues bring to the table, people breaking them down like scientists, and then attacking each other like chemical warfare. As a moderator, I always have a difficult time deciding which comment should stay and which one should go. I try my best to weed out insulting comments, but no matter what I delete, I am accused of being biased. As a result, my only solution is to shut down the entire post.

The not-so-good part of closing off the comments is that the site feels empty, and I have received complaints on it already. The good part, however, is that I get private messages from regular readers who I have conversed back and forth on certain topics, but never get a chance to know them on the personal level until now. I am thankful for that. You know who you are.

While we’re still on the comments topic, I find Jeremy Keith’s post, “Comments on Community,” to be interesting. He breaks down the pros and cons of allowing comments on a blog, and I agree with most of his points, especially this:

I don’t think we should be looking at comments to see conversations. It isn’t much of a conversation when the same person determines the subject matter of every dialogue. The best online conversations I’ve seen have been blog to blog: somebody posts something on their blog; somebody else feels compelled to respond on their own blog. The quality of such a response is nearly always better than a comment on the originating blog for the simple reason that people care more about what appears on their own site than on someone else’s.

The perfect example is what Buddhist With an Attitude posted on her blog commenting on the controversial issues on this site. Thanks for the holla, lady. On a side note, the photo, which is perfect for the title, “Long Suffering Vietnam,” is disturbing: an AK pointing at women’s head. Does it matter if she’s a communist or not? That’s not how we treat a human being, especially a senior citizen. But let me not bringing up any more heat on this subject.

Back to the commenting. Although prohibiting comments is a temporary solution until my site gets back on the regular server, I might continue to do so if it works out well.

One of jazz’s techniques always mesmerizes me is scat singing—an improvisation of nonsense syllables. Louis Armstrong is the father of scat and he invented the vocabulary singlehandedly. During a recording session, he dropped the music sheet so he mimicked the trumpet with his voice. On “Hotter Than That,” Pops improvises, “rip da du da du da / du-ya dad a dit dip bah!” He sings like he would play his trumpet—full of emotion, tone, and virtuosity.

If Satchmo was the pops of scat, Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan were the mamas. Like Pops, they both could produce horn-like sounds with their vocals. While Ella was known for her nimble-voice, Sarah was famous for her gorgeous vibrato. Ella’s rendition of “Rockin’ in Rhythm” and Sarah’s “Sassy’s Blues” are perfect illustrations.

Recently, I was introduced to Martin Sexton from someone who shares my passion for jazz. Sexton’s scat improvisation on “13 Step Boogie” is eccentrically beautiful. His voice is an instrument in itself, and I love his cool, effortless style and versatile vocals range. What strikes me is that Sexton is not even a jazz singer, and yet he could move in and out of jazz so freely.

As for Vietnamese singers, the only one (I know of) that could scat is Tung Duong. On “Lua Mat Em,” the way he weaves his voice around the female background vocalist is stunning. As if he is a trumpet complementing her singing.

Tuan Ngoc is still the king of Vietnamese ballads. On the title track of Vi Do La Em, he heightens Dieu Huong’s standard with his dexterous delivery. He starts off the first two bars with an exotic-gruffed, low baritone then gradually moves into his archetypal, superb phrasings. The changes are subtle but electrifying. As if he could color the timbre of his voice, stroke a gradient from dark to light, and progress from frostiness, “Khong can biet em la ai,” to fondness, “Ta yeu em bang may ngang bien rong.”

Tuan Ngoc does it again on Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Noi Dau Muon Mang” just like what he has done with “Rieng Mot Goc Troi.” He soars like a bird with a broken wing, especially when he ends with, “Em co hay khi mua thu toi, ta mat nhau mot doi.” From Nguyen Dinh Toan’s “Can Nha Xua” to Dieu Huong’s “Phien Da Sau” to Chau Dinh An’s “Tinh Khuc Mot Ngay Buon,” his execution remains undisputable: the breath control, the sophisticated rhythmic sense, and the immaculate intonation.

Together with his sister Khanh Ha, Tuan Ngoc refreshes Doan Chuan and Tu Linh’s ballads with an intoxicating, blues-inspiring medley and rejuvenates Vu Thanh An’s standards with a mid-tempo flavor. Often time, Tuan Ngoc can’t ride groovy beats, but Khanh Ha pulls him on board with her. He also seems to like the technique of singing two separated songs simultaneously when performing with someone else. The method works well on Vu Thanh An’s medley because they both have an astonishing sensibility for harmonic. The effect is sumptuous when Khanh Ha’s full, flawless vibrato balances with Tuan Ngoc’s free-floating falsetto on the overlapping delivery, and they know how to stay out of each other’s path.

Vi Do La Em is a solid album because of Tuan Ngoc’s music selection. He knows how to make a song his and how to express the lyrics as a personal statement. For instance, many singers have succeeded in performing the title track, but none has brought a new dimension to it like the way he does. He is a virtuoso interpreter of ballads.

From the beginning, I have never felt easy using copyrighted photos on “Bonjour Viet Nam” without asking for permissions. What worse is that I didn’t even give the photographers the credit they deserved. I was taking a risk and putting my ass on the burner for a lawsuit. Now that the piece is all over the web, the chance has increased. Fortunately, I didn’t even get a threatening email. One of the photographers, Hoang Nhiem, whose work is accountable for 90% of the slideshow, has discovered the piece through Thanh Nien News. Of course, he has every right to be upset with me, but he didn’t. When I explained the situation, he totally understood. Hoang Nhiem not only has agreed for me to use the photos courtesy of HNH Images, but also offered an opportunity to collaborate in the future. I am very graceful for that. In addition, thanks to the Visualgui.com readers who have recognized the work of Pham Hong Hai and Doan Duc Minh. If you guys come across the name of the photographers whose work I have used, please let me know. I would like to once again apologize to all the photographers and thank them for allowing me to use their work. It’s a good thing that I don’t have to pull another plug because of copyright issue—at least not until Marc Lavoine and Pham Quynh Anh knock on my door.

Out of all the Asia’s princes, including Lam Nhat Tien, Le Tam and Gia Huy, Duy Linh is the only one that has a distinctive style. Although he could move in and out of trendy pop tunes, his forte is in the Vietnamese folk tradition, and his Tra Em Cay Dang Mong Vang proves it. Too bad he only recorded one solo album before Asia dropped him.

Most of the time, Vietnamese folk songs required strong and clear voice from the singers. Duy Linh is rare scenario. He doesn’t have a powerful voice, and his range of emotion is limited too. In a way, Duy Linh is similar to Miles Davis who found his own comfort zone in the middle register while Dizzy Gillespie was the master of playing high notes. So instead of reaching for the upper range, Duy Linh focuses his style in the cool, relaxed vicinity. As a result, his phrasings are more natural, which brings a new sound to the traditional folk. He also knows how important is it to secrete his breath. That’s a bonus.

What makes Tra Em Cay Dang Mong Vang works is not Duy Linh’s skillful delivery alone, but also the crisp, ingenious and flavorful production from Truc Sinh. Without the colorful sounds, especially from the traditional instruments, to complement Duy Linh’s effortless approach, the album might end up in the sleepy zone. From the mid-tempo rhythm section (Anh Bang & Tu Nguyen Thach’s “Tra Em Cay Dang Mong Vang” and Dai Phuong Trang & Quang Tu’s “Qua Cau Hat Ly Xa Nhau”) to the soothing groove (Vu Duoc Sao Bien’s “Dieu Buon Phuong Nam”), Duy Linh has plenty of rich, soulful beats to ride with.

With the special appearance of Yen Phuong whose voice is as clear as crystal and as sweet as sugarcane (in a natural sense), the album featured three delicious duets. On Nhat Thien’s “Mai Tranh Mo,” they have created a scene that is filled with lyrical romance of a young, loving couple whose dream was to build together a tree house next to a cool waterfall surrounded with singing birds. The sounds of various traditional instruments add gorgeous details to the piece, which helps me to visualize the pure and lovely image in my mind. On Dinh Tram Ca’s “Trang Hon Tui,” I envy the way they harmonized together as if they could connect and feel each other’s vibes for real. For instance, when he croons, “Ho… oi, em di lay chong,” she completes with, “Em lay chong nhu ca can cau.” The chemistry between the two is unbreakable just like a fish caught on a hook. On Han Chau’s “Ve Que Ngoai,” the way they try to convince each other to visit their mother’s mother homeland gives me a nostalgic sentiment. Imagine taking a sweet girl with a Chinese-TV-series-actress appearance like Yen Phuong to see your grandmother, wouldn’t she be proud? Even my dead grandmother would be glad to witness that in heaven.

Tra Em Cay Dang Mong Vang is an album that could bring listeners the aesthetic beauty of Viet Nam no matter where they are in the world, even in the caves where Bin Laden is hiding, and all they need is an iPod. I can’t even remember how many times I rocked this joint back-to-back when I first copped it eight years ago. The music is still fresh every time I come back to it for an experience of escapism.

In retrospect, Don Ho (Vietnamese not Hawaiian) made some interesting changes in his singing career. The good part was that he moves closer to the root. When he first stepped on the scene in early 90s, he chose mostly French and English standards. As he created a name for himself, he glided into translated melodies, and then slowly began to cover Vietnamese ballads as he gained more confidence. Don Ho captured many hearts, including mine, with romantic tunes such as Truc Ho’s “Trai Tim Mua Dong,” Duc Huy’s “Nhu Da Dau Yeu” and Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Tinh Khuc Buon.” At the high point of his career, he came out with Vuc Sau Hanh Phuc, an album that showed a new and exciting path for Don Ho and his fans.

In addition to ten original tunes from nine Vietnamese musicians around the world, Don Ho also works with a number of talented musicians to get the sound he wants. On the album starter, Nguyen Dinh Loi’s “Nguoi Mai Chua Ve,” the flourishing and soothing arrangement from Peter Tran and the composer himself provides a musical space for Don Ho to pour his smoky baritone into the notes with intensity and intricacy. On Van Duc Nguyen’s “Nhip Buoc Hoang Vu,” producer Dong Son cleverly weaves Chi Tam’s traditional sound from the single-stringed instrument (dan bau) into his organic vibes. The result is an ambient arrangement that is perfect for Don Ho’s soulful delivery. With Sy Dan’s lust, mysterious orchestration backing him up, Don Ho nails Vo Thien Hoang’s “Ngoai Cua Thien Duong” right on the sentimental spot. In contrast, Sy Dan’s dark, gothic theme doesn’t work too well on Trang Thanh Truc’s “Goi Nguoi Xa Voi.” Fortunately, the bonus track, which is a slow version, is illustrious. Although Tung Chau’s production is not as rich and cinematic, it works better with this particular piece, and Albert Von Seggern’s sweet sax on the break heightens the listening experience. Tung Chau has also done a marvelous orchestration on the title track allowing Don Ho to express the lyrics to their fullest. On the Latin-infused fusion, Mai Nguyen’s “Tren Ngan Le Sau” and Bao Tram’s “Tieng Duong Cam Cua Nha,” Don Ho’s raspy quality adds an intoxicating flavor to the ballads.

Vuc Sau Hanh Phuc is a Stella effort that proves Don Ho’s full potential as well as his versatile artistry. The album also raised the bar so high that he has been struggling to top it for years. Even though his latest work, Con Nghe Tieng Goi, shows tremendous technical improvement in his vocals, the materials he covered could not surpassed the cutting-edge concept he has done on this album.

Woke up early this morning, washed up my baby before the place is packed and got all that nasty salt off her. She deserved a nice bath for working hard during the winter. I also did my laundry. While I was drying my clothes, I had a chance to exchange a few words with a woman who washes, dries and folds clothes for people who are too damn lazy to do their own dirty laundry. I asked her typical questions like how much it would cost to wash a bag of clothes. As we were folding at the same table (I was more like pairing up my shocks and throw everything into my basket), she told me, “I fold pretty neat.” I just smiled and watched her carefully managing men’s Fruit-of-the-Loom draws with some thoughts running through my mind. When Americans (only the discriminated ones) said that, “you immigrants come here and take over our jobs,” I was disturbed, but this woman made me feel a bit guilty. From the way she breathes heavily in and out, I could tell she hates her job, but she’s not complaining and whining about it. The weather is gorgeous outside and people just dumped their shit on her. She gets paid hourly; therefore, her check is still the same no matter how much clothes she washed. I hate doing laundry myself and I only do it when I almost have nothing clean to wear. Imagine working forty hours a week, not including weekend, just doing laundry would drive me insane; therefore, I respect her for what she has to do to make ends meet.

James P. Johnson’s Harlem Stride Piano. Johnson was the father of stride piano, a style that requires the player to do it all (beat, melody and bass), and it is very hard to accomplish. Even Jazzy admits that is it impossible to play with her small hands. My jazz history professor said that shaking Johnson’s hand was like holding a bunch of bananas. One of Johnson’s stride masterpieces is “Carolina Shout.” It’s like a test for anyone who wants to play stride piano. Even Duke Ellington had to work hard to mater it. In addition to his contribution as jazz pianist, Johnson could also play classical music. His Victory Stride is a breathtaking example.

Fats Waller’s The Joint is Jumpin’. Waller was Johnson’s student and also a brilliant stride pianist. His “Numb Fumblin'” is filled with a variety of rich and imaginative tones. His rendition of “Carolina Shout” is no less virtuosic than his teacher. Waller even succeeded with popular tunes like “Honeysuckle Rose” and “Ain’t Misbehaving.”

Count Basie’s The Complete Decca Recordings. Basie started out as stride pianist then developed into his own blues-inflected style. He was the master of understatement, and was famous for playing the spare keys because he had a solid rhythm section behind him. His version of “Honeysuckle Rose” is different from Waller because of the few tasty notes Basie tagged his name on it.

Theolonious Monk’s Criss Cross. My man Monk also came out of the Harlem stride tradition, but his style was full of angularity and outside standard sound of bebop. His stylistic tick was playing downward, cascading scale, and he loved the flatted fifths. He usually played clotted alter chords and was heavy into the beat. His rendition of “Tea for Two” and “Crepuscule with Nellie” were interestingly and intentionally fractured. Like his personality, Monk’s use of space in music was way out there. And what I love about Monk’s playing is the dissonant, disruptive and unpredictable variations.