A love like ours could never die because it was never alived to begin with. Sometimes I can’t really tell if my wife loves me or not. I think she does or else she wouldn’t bear all that pain to give birth to my wonderful boys. I would never experience what she had gone through, but I get it. Let’s put it this way. If I was the one that had to give birth, we would have no kid. Yes, I am a pussy and I know it. She knows it as well and I am not afraid to admit that in this marriage, I am the bitch.

My wife is a strong, independent woman. Sometimes I even doubted me role in the relationship and just asked her straight out, “Why do you even need me? You seem to be able to do everything yourself.” Sometimes she responded, “I don’t know why either” and sometimes she just gave me that you’re-such-a-dumb-ass look. Whenever I can’t find the right answer, I always draw back to my mom’s theory: either she owed me something in her previous life or I’ll have to pay her back in our next life. I hope it’s the latter because I do want to be with her again if there’s a next life.

As much as we irritate each other to dead at times, we always think and care about each other. We knew from the beginning that the journey ahead of us is rough and treacherous, but we can make it through if we don’t let go. One of our favorite quotes from Lê Uyên Phương’s was “Rồi mai đây đi trên đường đời / Đừng buông tay âm thầm tìm về cô đơn.” (Later, on the journey through life / Don’t let go of my hand to seek your quiet solitude.) These have to be the toughest years of our lives together, but we’re pulling through. Hold on my love, please don’t give up on me. We’ll walk right up to the sun hand in hand.

My father-in-law is advocating 70 Năm Tình Ca Trong Tân Nhạc Việt Nam (1930 – 2000) to his friends and family. I started to listen to the first part on my way to work this morning. My commute is probably the only quiet time for me to focus on the program. I find it informative so far.

Có những niềm riêng làm sao nói hết.
Tôi viết rồi, rồi tôi lại xóa tôi ơi.
Tiến thoái lưỡng nan, đi về lận đận.
Tình không xa nhưng không thật gần.
Rừng xưa đã khép, rừng xưa đã khép.
Tôi lần mò leo mãi không qua được vách nghiện.
Để gió cuốn đi, để gió cuốn đi.
Hãy cố yêu người mà sống.
Và như thế tôi sống qua từng ngày.

It’s quite rare to hear an entire Vietnamese album with only original tunes. Quái Vật Tí Hon (Lil’ Monsters) is an experiential rock group that does just that with its debut Đường Về. Yet what makes the album so attractive (even to none-rock listener like myself) is the combination of skillful storytelling and clever incorporation of Vietnamese traditional folks melody into modern rock.

“Vì Đời” is easily one of the highlights from the album, or at least to me, because I can related to the lyrics: “Vợ mình đẹp nhất hành tinh / Người tình đẹp nhất lúc bình minh / Vì đời có tài nên thường linh tinh.” Công Hải, lead vocalist who penned all the lyrics, knows the important of clear communication; therefore, he keeps his singing simple and stays within his raspy range. “Ô Trống” takes me back to my childhood years. I can’t recall the words, but I can hum to the melody.

Minified down to just acoustic strumming guitar, Công Hải pours out his drunken soul on “Vợ Ơi, Anh Sai Rồi.” Elsewhere, “Kẻ Lạ Mặt” recounts an incident in which he walked into his lover making out with a stranger. Đường Về is worth listening even if you aren’t into rock. Then again as much as I find the personal narrative to be engaging, the rock guitar riffs are too much noise for me to return for more.

Nathan Lee has a hush, handsome timbre, but he’s not making the most out of his voice. On M, a Valentine’s special release, his delivery is way too breathy. He needs to learn to control his breathing particularly on ballads. His rendition of “Cơn Mưa Hạ” is weak and lacking of confidence. All I feel is air blowing, not summer rain dropping.

If I were to produce his album, I would make him sing an octave lower, especially on “Dòng Sông Kỷ Niệm.” He should have concentrated more on his lower notes and not exceeded the mid range. His version of “Khi Người Yêu Tôi Khóc” would have been much more hipnotizing if he sang it in the bass tone.

I know I shouldn’t be so tough on the kid. For crying out loud, he’s making a Valentine’s special album. I am not sure if I would even recommend this album for Valentine’s Day, unless your love life is filled with “Tàn Tro,” “Tan Tác,” “Xa Em Kỷ Niệm,” and “Ngàn Năm Vẫn Đợi.” Sounds more like a heartbreak to me.

To celebrate Đán’s “đầy tháng” (full month), I put together a short slideshow as a special dedication to my second son.

Similar concept I used for my first son, Dao’s, this slideshow features black-and-white photos with a short jazz sampling. This time around, I used Stacey Kent’s rendition of “What the World Needs Now is Love” to support the images.

When I heard this song for the first time, which was a few months ago, I was going through some dramas. The world around me seemed to be very cold and lacked compassion and the song was just what I needed to lift me up. I also thought of my second unborn whenever I listened to the tune. What the world, at least my own world, needs now is a lovely boy and that’s how I selected the tune for this slideshow. It’s a perfect complement.

Happy full month my love!

If music were his spouse, Quang Tuấn is a faithful man. He doesn’t cheat because he makes no attempt on experimenting with new styles. As a result, his work is very predictable. Even without listening to his new release Chiều Vàng, anyone who has heard of Quang Tuấn previous works would get a sense of how he would sing the songs.

On the positive side, Quang Tuấn’s dedication on nurturing the relationship with music and honing his skills paid off. He delivers “Tình Rơi” (Hồ Đăng Long) with a flawless effort. He rides the semi-classical arrangment with poise and elegant. His rendition of “Đường Xa Vạn Dặm” (Trịnh Công Sơn) is damn near perfection as a homage than a reinterpretation. Staying with the written melody worked out well in those cases, but Quang Tuấn could learn a thing or two from his mentor Tuấn Ngọc on the subtlety of flying off notes on “Xin Trả Nợ Người.”

While some of the jazzy arrangements add a bit of new flavors to the classic tunes, Quang Tuấn’s dead-on interpretations, like “Chiều Nay Không Có Em” (Ngô Thụy Miên) and the title track, are a tad tiring. “Đoá Hoa Vô Thường (Trịnh Công Sơn), which clocks in nine and a half minutes, gets worn out even with some uptempo switch-up.

For an independent production, Chiều Vàng is a commendable effort. At the same time, Quang Tuấn has complete creative freedom to do whatever he wants and to break himself out of the box.

From the opening title track to the closing “Hồn Việt,” (both written by Minh Châu), Chàng Trai Việt is indeed a patriotic album. With his charming, authoritative tenor, Công Lâm effortlessly navigated through epic-orchestrated pieces including Phạm Đình Chương’s “Tiếng dân chài” and Phạm Duy’s “Áo anh sứt chỉ đường tà.” Yet, the success of the album isn’t just his voice alone. It’s the combination of right song choices, strong supportive from backup vocal groups and excellent musical arrangements. Chàng Trai Việt is well-crafted and well-thoughtout. Definitely worth experiencing from start to finish.

Like most marketable pop releases in Vietnam, Khánh Phương’s Nước Mắt Vì Sao Rơi is packed with catchy melodies, contagious hooks and chuckling lyrics. Just pick out any tune on the album and you can figure out the formula. The chorus on “Nếu Không Có Anh Ta” goes: “Nếu không có anh ta em có thấy buồn không? / Lúc trống vắng cô đơn hãy nhớ anh một lần.” Who wouldn’t get a giggle out of conversational lines like that?

But what makes Khánh Phương stands out is his charming, gruff voice combined with his carefree swagger in delivering the words. He’s a reminiscent of Tuấn Hưng in his “Tình Yêu Lung Linh” hey-days. (Tuấn Hưng sings like he had taken doses of Zolpidem nowadays.) Khanh Phuong, on the other hand, sounds energetic on a mid-tempo groove like “Lựa Chọn Một Hạnh Phúc” and so damn sincere on puppy-love, slow jams like “Đừng Hỏi Vì Sao,” particularly on the hook: “Lúc mới khi yêu sẽ buồn lúc mới khi yêu sẽ vui / Lúc mới khi yêu sẽ nhớ / Đến lúc con tim đổi thay chẳng biết được vì sao đổi thay / vẫn thương vẫn yêu vẫn nhớ nhưng nhớ thương chỉ trong vài giây.”

The album loses its strength when he gets too Chinese-sounding on “Người Ra Đi Vì Ai” and “Hãy Ra Đi Nếu Em Muốn.” Nevertheless Nước Mắt Vì Sao Rơi has its shining moments before fading away in the fast-changing pop scene.

Vợ chồng chung sống với nhau hơn chục năm vẫn ly dị. Điều đó sảy ra càng dể dàng nếu đôi bên không có gì ràn buộc lẫn nhau. Nếu chỉ có tình yêu tình không thể có hạnh phút suốt đời vì tình yêu quá mong manh. Một khi tình yêu đã đi thì không thể giữ được. “Tình yêu đến em không mông đợi gì. Tình yêu đi em không hề hối tiếc.” Nghe thật phủ phàng nhưng đó là sự thật.

Tình yêu rồi cũng sẽ phai theo ngày tháng. Chỉ có sự tôn trọng và trách nhiệm mới có bền lâu. Có lẻ khi đã có con thì lối suy nghỉ của tôi về tình yêu đã khác hẳng. Cho dù hai người không còn yêu nhau đi nữa, họ vẫn chia sẽ với nhau những niềm thương. Niềm thương yêu ấy càng to lớn hơn cả tình yêu. Tình yêu ta có thể trao cho nhau rồi cũng có thể lấy lại được. Nhưng khi mình đã tạo ra một người khác mình không thể nào quây mặt bỏ đi. Không có đứa trẻ nào tự nguyện ra đời để chịu khổ cả.

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