Sure, Nguyen Hong Nhung is the chick with a rep up to her neck. But don’t let those pornographic images interfere with her music. She has done nothing wrong but trusted that two-inch penis, insecure ex-boyfriend of her who exploited their sexual intercourse to the world. That sell-out prick should have been glad that he boned a star. Yes, I said it. Nguyen Hong Nhung is a star, and her debut Niem Dau Da Qua attests it.

I don’t mean she is the greatest singer. In fact, she’s only a passable warbler with a limited vocals range, but she recognizes her limitations, and only works within her comfortable zone. She also knows how to select songs that are appropriate for her style.
With the help of Nguyen Quang’s colorful and powerful arrangements, she has reinvigorated Tran Tien’s “Sac Mau,” despite how many times Tran Thu Ha has tried to reinvented it every time she performs. Furthermore, she gives Trinh Cong Son’s “Dau Chan Dia Dang” a delicious rendition, Nguyen Anh 9’s “Tinh Yeu Den Trong Gia Tu” a voluptuous delivery, and Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Niem Khuc Cuoi” a sentimental presentation.

While the world would expect to see her carrying on her shamefulness, she comes out swinging to the paso-doble rhythm on Nguyen Anh 9’s “Sac Xuan” like nothing has ever happened. And she doesn’t sound like she’s pretending to have a good time either. Nguyen Quang plays a major role on this album. Not only he contributes illustrious productions, but also supports her on his “Xin Hay Quen Di,” and has written the title track exclusively for her. So when she floats heartfelt over “Niem Dau Da Qua,” she lets us know that the pain has left her mind and soul (which is what the title suggests), the scar has healed, and she has already moved on. Good for you, girl.

When I first heard “Chung Mot Vong Tay,” a Thai Dang’s hip-hop joint, I thought these guys and gals were on crack. The funk-inflected production is groovy, and the flows are straight bugging—even the ladies sound like they are high on the hook. After listening to the lyrics, however, I am impressed. Underneath the zoned-out delivery is an encouraging message to the youth. It’s quite original. Big up to Thai Dang, Thanh, Bao Tan, and Xanh Ai. Keep the positive vibe alive fellas (homegirls too). I am diggin’ it.

Huynh Nhat Tan sure knows how to write pop hits. His ballads are neither sophisticated nor sugarcoated. His lyrics are easy to comprehend but not stodgy, and his melodies are catchy without being syrupy. As a result, he has been churning out hits after hits for Van Son Entertainment. With the release of Phut Ban Dau, we’re presented with a handful of Huynh Nhat Tan’s colorful, soulful, and flavorful compositions performed by Nguyen Khang and Diem Lien, two young and established voices in the Vietnamese-American community.

Because of his carefree charisma, acute sensitivity, and masculinity (vocal wise), Nguyen Khang could transform sweet ballads into sentimental standards. On the opener “Cu Lua Doi Di,” he gives a soul-stirring performance with a heart-to-heart conversation with his lover, which could also be his listeners. His technical is flawless. Even when he hits the upper register, he still maintains the effortlessness in his flow. With “Hoi Nguoi Yeu,” the most mesmerizing part is when Hoai Phuong’s sensuous saxophone blows in, and then Nguyen Khang follows with a breathtaking wordless vocalization. Together they give the tune a savory flavor of jazz. “Se Khong Con Yeu” starts off with the chorus, and Nguyen Khang shows how he could embrace the hook by manipulating it with his own enthralling back-up vocals.

Opposite from Nguyen Khang’s thick and raspy quality, Diem Lien’s voice is thin, clear, but no less expressive and authoritative. Warbler Diem Lien provides a heartfelt rendition of “Mai Yeu La Chi.” Love the way Luan Vu’s violin responds to her lines. The soul-sawing sound of the instrument added a sense of depth into her poignant delivery. Although her performances on “Noi Vo Tinh Ngot Ngao” and “Roi Anh Cung Ra Di” are emotional and robust, her aspirate, breathy voice brings down her delivery.

Believe it or not, the most disappointing performance on the album is the title track, which also is the only duet between the two. The r-&-b groove is inert, and neither Nguyen Khang nor Diem Lien could save the banality of the saccharine chord. It gets worse when they try to imitate the r&b’s style of phrasing. Another obvious dwindling track is “Giac Mo” with the assistance of Vpop. Huynh Nhat Tan is wasting his ink with the translated tune. Without those two tracks, the album is a phenomenon. It’s about time Van Son productions do something right.

Dam Vinh Hung once said on his liveshow Trai Tim Hat that he likes to slip one or two nhac tru tinh (lyrical music) into his albums for older listeners. In the past seven albums, he has been singing his lung out for his young audience. With Tinh Ca 50 (Vol. 8), however, he devotes the entire album to his fans’ moms and pops by crooning only old standards. The “50” part of the title makes it clear that the album is dedicated to the five-oh generation; however, his die-hard fans can still purchase the record and enjoy it with their parents. Isn’t it just lovely? Mr. Dam is bringing the whole family together. The only problem is, can the parents tolerate his thunderous style?

Dam Vinh Hung is still Dam Vinh Hung. From Anh Bang’s “Hoa Hoc Tro” to Ngo Thuy Mien’s “Ban Tinh Cuoi” to Hoang Thanh Tam’s “Thang 6 Troi Mua,” he does not treat these timeless tunes any gentler no matter how sweet and charming they are. He’s a belter, and that is his forte. I don’t find his vociferous performances to be striking anymore because his timbre is getting way too harsh and losing some of its sensational quality. Do Kim Bang’s “Xin Diu Nhau Den Tinh Yeu” proves that his vocals have deteriorated over the years. His earlier rendition, which could be found in Binh Minh Se Mang Em Di, was breathtaking. His phrasing was natural, and his technical skill was immaculate. The jazz-inflected arrangement was compelling, especially on the break where the saxophone became harsh and expressive. On the latter version, he drags the lyrics longer, and he gasps for air on every line. The rock-inflected production does not do him justice either.

When he turns his loudness down a notch, the result is compelling. For instance, I find his duet with Hong Ngoc on Nguyen Vu’s “Loi Cuoi Cho Em” to be spontaneous. The production is exhilarating, and their voices are stimulating on the hook. It is certainly much better than their previous collaboration on Duc Huy’s “Nhu Da Dau Em.” Still, the most interesting performance on the record is Nguyen Van Khanh’s “Noi Long.” His languorous voice curls like smoke around the intoxicating bluesy arrangement. With strange delivery and bizarre phrasing, he gives the tune an invigorating rendition. He should develop this unconventional style furthermore.

As much as I enjoy some of these refreshing sounds, it is problematic with the sudden trend of young singers recovering old songs. Within two months, we see three albums released—Thanh Thao’s Bay Ngay Doi Mong, Cao Thai Son’s Le Da, and now Dam Vinh Hung’s Tinh Ca 50—with not only similar approach, but also with exact same songs. “Loi Cuoi Cho Em” featured on both Thanh Thao’s and Dam Vinh Hung’s. Both Tran Trinh’s “Le Da” and Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Mong Duoi Hoa” appeared on Dam Vinh Hung’s and Cao Thai Son’s. Is Vietnamese popular music going backward? Or are we lacking of new music? Is the music scene in Viet Nam becoming like Thuy Nga and Asia productions? If that is the case, musicians need to get off the treadmill and start jogging forward.

When it comes to decoration, our friend Patrick who is an ingenious florist goes all out. Went shopping with him once, and I was amazed at every little things he picked up to provide his work artistic visual details, like what he did to this gorgeous wedding cake. Not only he is skillful in arranging flowers, but also in other decorations as well. The perfect example is what he did recently with the scintillating Christmas tree, the simple but luminous dining room, and the lovely stairway ornamentation. He has given our uncle’s crib the spirit of Christmas. Patrick, you’re the best!

Model-turn-singer Ngo Thanh Van is casting in a new romantic comedy Saigon Love Story. Based on the trailer, it looks like a banal chick flick, but we’ll see if she can act, or she will fluff through the way she does with her musical inability.

A poem by Harold Pinter (August 1991)

Hallelujah!
It works.
We blew the shit out of them.

We blew the shit right back up their own ass
And out their fucking ears.

It works.
We blew the shit of out of them.
They suffocated in their own shit!

Hallelujah.
Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew them into fucking shit.
They are eating it.

Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew their balls into shards of dust,
Into shards of fucking dust.

We did it.

Now I want you to come over here and kiss me
on the mouth.

And just when I thought Thelonious Monk’s compositions are impossible to sing, Carmen McRae proves me wrong on Carmen Sings Monk. With her big, clear, pitch-perfect vocals, she brilliantly captures Monk’s up-tempo “Get It Straight,” “It’s Over Now,” “You Know Who” and “Listen to Monk” as well as his smooth “Dear Ruby,” “Monkery’s the Blues,” “Little Butterfly” and “’Round Midnight.” And Lord, can she scat? Listen to the live version of “Suddenly”—accompanied by Monk’s protégé tenor saxophonist Charlie Rouse—and find out because I am breathtakingly speechless with the way she maneuvers her wordless delivery around Monk’s idiosyncratic chords. The album is a showcase of McRae’s incandescent compassion to Monk’s singular creativeness.

Woke up, peaked out the window, crawled right back into bed because snow had already covered the ground, and I have nowhere else to go. On a gloomy day like this, I was longing for some sentimental tunes, and Billie Holiday immediately came to mind. I quickly turned on my stereo, inserted The Complete Billie Holiday on Verve 1945-1959, and admitted the bittersweet vocals carried me through the day. She sang with so much emotions that when she phrased, “I’ve been down so long / that down don’t worried me” on “Stormy Blues,” we could feel her soul. Even the muted trumpet echoed her pain when she crooned, “I lose my man / I lose my head / I lose my money / Feel like I am almost dead.” She epitomized pain or as Gary Giddins described as “lady of pain.” And below is an interesting point of view on Holiday from Ted Gioia in his History of Jazz:

Holiday’s accomplishments are all the more remarkable when one realizes the limitations within which she worked. Her range, at best, spanned a scant one-and-a-half octaves. Her voice, moreover, did not project strongly—unlike, say, Bessie Smith, who also had a modest range, but could compensate by belting out a song to the back rows. Holiday lacked the scat-singing chops of an Ella Fitzgerald, the tonal purity of a Sarah Vaughan, the exuberance of a Louis Armstrong but what she had more than made up for these deficiencies. Her mastery was rooted in an incomparable sense of timing, phrasing that was supple yet uncommonly relaxed, and, above all, an ability to infuse a lyric with hitherto unknown depths of meaning. One might say that Billie Holiday was a stylist, not a virtuoso—unless emotional depth is a type of virtuosity. Her interpretations cut to the quick of a song, crafting a music of interiors, not surfaces.

Love it when I have the weekend all to myself. No traveling and no need to listen to family’s politics. Just kick back sipping coffee, relax to John Coltrane’s Classic Quartet, and read a book. Solitude is just beautiful, like a short poem from my man Song Vinh written on the back cover of Huong Mua:

Con ta mot cho rieng nay (Here’s a space left for me)
Cho mua rat lanh (A cold, rainy space)
Cho ngay rat rieng (A space of privacy)

Please help me out with the translation. Huong Mua is a book that I reach over and over again like a glass of water. The poems are refreshing, and I get a kick out of his wordplay on Trinh Cong Son’s titles every time I recite “Thang Tu 2:”

In the first two lines
thang tu nguoi ngu, yen roi
uot mi bien nho mot loi chia tay (TCS music)

In the last two lines
thang tu xa thang tu gan
hoa vang may do dau chan dia dang (TCS music)

You may say I am a loner, but I enjoy every minute of it.