Out of nowhere—no hint, no buzz, no hype—No, a Tran Viet Tan’s songbook with Thanh Lam and Hong Nhung locking down the vocals, quietly drops into our lap, like some kind of treasure just happened to fall off from the sky. Actually, an album that could pull two of the top female voices together doesn’t need the whole marketing campaign to sell. The work of art speaks for itself. Is this a project in which Thanh Lam and Hong Nhung appear side-by-side to throw their fans a bone? That was my immediate skepticism when I first spotted the album, but after careful listenings, I am convinced that No is a real quality product, and both have invested their soul into it.

Over the years, Hong Nhung and Thanh Lam have defined their distinctive path by continuously refining and modernizing their crafts. Hong Nhung appreciates peacefulness in her Khu Vuon Yen Tinh while Thanh Lam brings the ruckus in her Nang Len. In No, however, they are not pushing Tran Viet Tan’s compositions into any direction, but simply pour their hearts into his works.

Hong Nhung is indelible in “Am Nong.” We can hear the cry in her voice, but she is so good at hiding it, like she is withholding her tears and only gives us a touch of her pain deep down inside—some psychological therapy for our mind. “Em Hong Nhung Rat La” is a tune I have personally requested Tran Viet Tan to pen for me to express my feelings for my Velvet Rose. I particularly insisted on using these two bars, “Ben chieu xua than tho / Giong hat nhe khoi bay.” (Yeah, I wish!) In any rate, the soothing melody is perfect for Hong Nhung’s relaxing vocals. Her lithe phrasings and effortless flows complement both “Ha Noi Em” and “A Oi Tay Me” like oil and vinegar.

Unlike Hong Nhung, Thanh Lam has a huge, husky, and tangy voice filled with deep emotion. In “Dem Ha Noi Nho,” she sports a prodigious technique of holding on to her vibrato to warm up the notes, and then releasing them into the empty air, leaving the piano to fill in the space. The way she hoarsens up her vocals sounds so damn hypnotizing. And of course, her energetic power always promises pain and glory in her delivery. In the title track, “Bat Chot,” and “Em Khong Nho Anh Dau,” she sings gentler, and takes her time to express the lyrics as if she has situated herself into the songs. She caresses the harmonies, massages the words, and efficiently breaks down her virtuoso flows.

Besides the juicy musical content, the album cover design is a clever one too. It provides a hint of both Thanh Lam’s and Hong Nhung ‘s style through their facial expression. The cracked smile on Hong Nhung’s face suggests youthfulness while Thanh Lam’s straight look insinuates genuineness. The direct, frosty gaze in Thanh Lam’s eyes (irresistibly gorgeous) illustrates the fearlessness in her attitude. I have met neither of them in person yet, but the raison d’être in Thanh Lam’s singing and the simplicity (yet filled with sentimentality) in Hong Nhung’s performance have always seduced me. These two women bang my world.

I haven’t seen an album dedicated to ballroom dancing for years, especially not from a young face in Viet Nam like Doan Trang. Her latest Da Vu Socodance (sounds like a M&M commercial to me), which featured Latin rhythms such as paso, tango, chacha, valse, and rumba, is another effort to make her music stands apart from her pop peers. What makes Doan Trang stands out for me is not her sweet, transparent voice, but my wonder of how such a powerful tone could come from so flimsy a body.

Like any Vietnamese dance tradition, Socodance kicks off with Hoang Trong’s “Dung Buoc Giang Ho,” a lively paso doble arranged by Nguyen Quang who is responsible for most of the productions on the album. Doan Trang just rides the beat and gives a straightforward delivery, which is fine for this particular up-tempo piece and Nguyen Anh 9’s translated “Ngan Khuc Tango.” In slower tempos like the rumba “Tinh Yeu Den Trong Gia Tu” (another Nguyen Anh 9’s composition) and Pham Manh Cuong’s “Thu Ca” (tango), however, she lacks the souls and the emotions that are so essential in expressing the lyrics. As a result, her renditions on these two tracks are juiceless and colorless. In addition, her breathiness brings down her delivery.

Socodance strangely closes out with Xuan Nghia’s “Rock ‘n Roll Cho Em.” Not sure why a rock track is included in a ballroom dance album. Other than banging our heads, what else could we do with rock? Fortunately “Rock ‘n Roll Cho Em” has more of a twist flavor to it than rock. So we could swivel our feet to the beat and break our necks to the guitar riff after the ecstasies kicked in.

Although Socodance is a nice attempt to get all the lazy behinds, including mine, off the couch and away from the computer, it isn’t anything outstanding. Doan Trang is like a lost child in the Vietnamese-entertainment world. (Come to daddy, I’ll give you a style to run with, baby.) She has tried everything to reinvent herself, from pop to ballads to r & b to hip-hop to Latin dance, but nothing seems to work to her fullest potential. Maybe it is time to focus on her technical skills and to inject some souls into her performances.

I sure do appreciate this:

In my opinion, Donny is a born communicator. Moving to the U.S. from Vietnam when he was eleven radically altered his ability to communicate in his new environment. He spent his playground time in those early years trying to learn English. He learned quickly, and even prior to the time I’ve known him, he has been publishing an online blog, or journal, where he reviews music, books, film, and software, and keeps up conversations about life in general with others who read his writing. This past year, he became a rather high-profile figure among the population of the international Vietnamese diaspora, and others interested in Vietnamese culture, for his Flash pieces combining music with images of Vietnam. As a result of his public voice on his own website, he has corresponded with people from all parts of society in different countries. Donny is clearly not a person who needs perfect English to be a communicator, yet he sets as a goal for himself working to perfect it. He has my respect and admiration for that.

With the negative comments about me pouring in lately, I decided to keep the author’s name off the site. I don’t mind being criticized at all since Visualgui.com welcomes unobstructed, honest opinions. Like I always say, you can attack me but not the folks I respect.

Bounce, Bush, bounce…

Red, why and how the color was created.

Anh Bang’s “Noi Long Nguoi Di,” a blues-inflected rendition performed by Tuan Ngoc.

Ngoc Tu Anh’s “Hay Giu Lay Hon Day,” an intoxicating presentation by Nguyen Khang.

I was planning on writing a review for Paul Greengrass’s United 93, but I didn’t get to watch the entire film. I had to walk out of the theater halfway into the movie or else I would have thrown up. The jerky camera work was torturing. The subject matter alone is sensitive, and the unprofessional, homegrown filming style makes it impossible to bear. Do we really need a poor-quality motion picture to remind us the darkest day of America? Here is what Manohla Dargris, film critic of the New York Times, has to say:

Sept. 11 has shaped our political discourse and even infiltrated our popular culture, though as usual Hollywood has been awfully late to that table. Yet five years after the fact and all the books, newspaper and magazine articles, committees and scandals later, I think we need something more from our film artists than another thrill ride and an emotional pummeling. “United 93” inspires pity and terror, no doubt. But catharsis? I’m still waiting for that.

Two dope Chinese boys infront of a webcam. I must have been repeating it for the last 10 times.

Waterboy, a well-executed animation for Evian Mineral Water.

Get a Mac, Apple’s ads. Check out the new digital camera from Japan. She’s cute!

Lien Khuc Ru, a Trinh Cong Son’s medley performed by Tran Thu Ha, Thanh Lam, Hong Nhung, and My Linh.

Like I haven’t have enough hate on my own site. Now I am getting my balls cut off by Minh Tuyet’s fans over at Thuy Nga’s forum after someone posted my review of Boi Vi Anh Yeu Em. Yes, I did expect it to happen so I am not going to sweat it, but I find some of the comments to be amusing. So let me repost some of them with my short responses to entertain myself. Believe it or not, I also am too embarrassed to step into strip clubs. The college days and fraternity’s Rush weeks are over. So here are some of the comments about me that I find entertaining:

that dude is always harsh! I admire his honesty but god geeze, he’s so bias! he trashes on every single pretty singer (male or female!) – puppyLo16

Voice has no appearance, puppy. But keep on barking!

That visualgui dude is into Dam Vinh Hung….I rest my case! – 411

For the 411, let me quote myself: “Mr. Dam is done. It’s time to drop the mic and pick up the clipper.” So do some damn research before opening up your mouth, or as Jay-Z is saying, “Dickface, get your shit straight.”

Seriously… it’s WRONG, guys dont like DVH… lol !!!! no kidding… that’s probably why he doesnt think Minh Tuyet is hot… he’s into guys, not girls !!!! lol :] – t_ninjia

Brilliant concept but not so convincing. You should say something like this: “He’s into guys, not girls. Girls can’t handle him because he has a PhD… Pretty Huge Dick, that is.” Now that makes more sense than arguing that if a guy doesn’t think a girl is hot, he’s into guys.

Cynicism attracts readers – a cheap tactic employed by irresponsible reviewers. This is nothing but typical of such rubbish… – Le_Chi

Maybe my writing is rubbish, at least my piece isn’t filled with ass-kissing shit like, “Overall I’m delighted to have this album. Good music, best vocals, outstanding arrangement with a healthy mix of metals, strings, and a touch of sax. The song selection is meticulous considering the variety, the layout, and the quality of each and every song. Great job!”

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.