He burned as brightly and as quickly as a match, his legacy is forever and ever like all good mavericks' works tend to be. And lately one of his songs keeps playing in my head over and over, almost like it's trying to telling me something. The thing is, I know what it is.

António Variações is currently a legend in his and my home country, Portugal. He only made two albums to his name and some TV showings and just as he was ready to embrace a much wider reach, he died. Such are the lives of mercurial talents. His works keep on being rediscovered by generation after generation and rightly so, because he was able to tap into what makes us portuguese and infuse it with a modern feel, almost like giving us a new fresh look at what we can be.

The song I referred to is called Estou Além [I'm up ahead] and for me it reflects quite perfectly that very state of an artist/person constantly unsatisfied with his/her position in the world and always on the search for something more, something other than this. How do I understand him.

Here's one that I bet most of us weren't expecting: an album by former Radiohead drummer, Philip Selway. And an excelent one, at that. Mostly an acoustic affair, it manages to both impress us with the consistent quality of its songcraft and the emotion with which it is delivered. A keeper, then.

Galaxies away from the music his former band used to make, this is an album that feels homegrown and as a result, quite intimate. It's almost like the time had come to put out all those songs that he'd been keeping in his drawer that served as an escape to all the avant-garde musical explorations of his former day job. And we're all glad he did. At least I am. This is a very gentle sounding album, much in the vein of the one on the below post, its difference being on the musical ambients Selway manages to conjure, which are in turns mysterious and at times romantic.

Listen to The Witching Hour, the album closer.

Here's a band I've been warming to quite recently, norwegian duo Kings of Convenience. Paraphrasing Vanilla Sky, they had me at the Simon and Garfunkel vocal harmonies. I was literally and instantly hooked on their sweet sounds. And I've been rotating this, their second album - Riot On An Empty Street - quite heavily for the past few days.

Their main appeal is actually quite simple and straightforward. It stems for their exquisite talent in crafting the gentlest melodies I've heard in quite a long time. Because that's just what this is: a collection of gentle songs, gently sung by - yes, why not? - two very gentle men. It's the kind of record you put on a Sunday morning and slowly get into the groove of a new day, preferably spent at home cuddling your pet(s) and drinking latte in front of the TV or on the front porch.

As a taster, I leave you with Misread, one of my favorite tracks at the moment.

I'm not trying to provoke any cosmic backlash unto me but the fact is that today is Equinox and here I am talking about a record by Oberon called Midsummer Night's Dream.

I just found it by simple hazard (I prefer to call it serendipity) and fell in love with it. It's extremely rare (I think only 150 original copies were made!) and it features some of the loveliest folk sounds you'll likely to hear in quite some time. For seasoned folk lovers, maybe you won't find here nothing new but in my opinion, it has that one ingredient that separates it from most of what you've heard so far: magic.

I especially like the treatment they made to one of Debussy's classic pieces: Syrinx. I could hear it ad eternum and imagine myself daydreaming in a meadow somewhere. Maybe I just will.

Genre-hopper extraordinaire Ryuichi Sakamoto's Smoochy album is one I find myself listening to from time to time always with a renewed sense of wonder. It's almost like I keep finding new things about it everytime I listen to it.

And this is a crucial album if you want to find out what this man's music is all about and how it got where it is today. In it are the seeds of everything he went on to do, be it his electronic explorations with Alva Noto, his acoustic albums with piano and strings, or even his ongoing romance with bossa nova and other latin american music languages. It's all here.

I'm going to leave you with one of my favorite tracks - Bibo No Aozora - one that has been reworked by him in multiple ways in the past and always successfully, which only goes to prove just how simple in their complexity his songs really are. And in this lies his greatest gift. Enjoy it.

If you haven't heard of this man, shame on you. But don't stress. Here's your opportunity to do so. And prepare to fall in love with one of the most beautiful male voices ever to grace a recording studio.

Ney Matogrosso is a brazilian artist with quite a long career on his shoulders and who's still going from strength to strength with every tour he undertakes. Yep, he's still touring and one of my biggest sorrows is never to have caught him live, even though he's been to my country many times. I'll try and reassess that the next time he'll be here. For sure!

Bandido is one of the many albums he recorded in the 70's after going solo (Secos e Molhados was his first musical project) and one that deserves to be better known. Combining popular and traditional brazilian music with a latin american twist, this album manages to seduce its listener and enchant us in a way very few can. I could choose any track to represent it here but right now I'm absolutely in love with his rendition of Gaivota (Seagull). So here it is.

Somehow, I find it hard to leave french-speaking territories music-wise whenever I start listening to their music. There's something quite intangible about the way they sing, the way they feel and the way I feel them singing. And let's be honest for a second here: it's hot singing in french.

Today's singer is Salvatore Adamo, more widely known as simply Adamo, a very popular singer/songwriter from the 60's to the 70's that managed to pen quite a considerable number of hits in his heyday. Although I'm not sure, I am almost certain this is one artist that I can imagine my mother listening to the radio to when she was younger and the world in brighter colors. French music was constantly in the airwaves in my home country some 40 odd years ago, so it's not completely impossible that she did hear him singing a song or two. I'll have to ask her.

In the meantime, listen to Mon Cinema, an impassioned chanson with a funky bass line only the french are capable of. See you soon.

I've just found out about this amazing album through some friends of mine. I honestly (and foolishly) thought that Mike Patton, of Faith No More fame, had sort of abandoned his musical career after the band's breakup but I had no idea how wrong I was! He has apparently been involved in a myriad of musical projects with other bands, artists and movie soundtracks so I guess the man is here to stay, after all. And this particular album - Mondo Cane - might just prove to be his biggest claim to musical legitimacy he'll ever do. I sincerely hope he can prove me wrong because now I really want to know what he's going to do next.

Mondo Cane was apparently inspired by the fact of Patton having married an italian girl and moved in to Italy where he started to realize that italian radio stations filled the air with old italian pop songs. Which I simply love, in case you haven't noticed yet! This album is a sort of hommage to those years and those songs and that kind of sound that I guess you can instantly recognize in some Morricone soundtracks. And that's exactly where I'm going to leave you: a rendition of Deep Deep Down, a track that can be found on the soundtrack of Danger: Diabolik, a key movie of those times. And prepare to be amazed.

I've been waiting for the right moment to write about Neil Hannon's The Divine Comedy new album - Bang Goes The Knighthood - but I guess now's as good a moment as any. This is pop music for all seasons, so let's start the month on a high note, shall we?

This is their first album on their own label, Divine Comedy Records, and the tenth under their moniker and it also marks a sort of stripping down of their usually string-laden songs. While a part of me is kind of sad at the lack of big, dramatic numbers, it's also kind of refreshing to see them try other aural landscapes and come out unscathed and renewed at the end.

However, I have to say that I'm still not completely won over by this new offering, though I'm starting to feel that it's slowly sinking in without me noticing it. Which is always a good thing. I'm going to leave you for now with a delicious duet: Island Life.

I'm crazy for a killer compilation. I make them myself to listen to while driving and always look for the rare and the interesting. And when compilations like these come your way, bringing together the cream of the crop of some of the most avant-garde musicians of France's 70's music scene, you know you cannot go wrong. And when you know that the guys behind such compilations are Dirty Sound Systems (of Dirty Edits Series fame), you know you're in for a win-win situation.

Dirty French Psychedelics is the name of today's compilation but they could've named it Escargots & Bistrots that it wouldn't change its massive appeal laying within. From the obscure to the less obscure (you won't find anything mainstream here, that's for sure), this amazing compilation takes you on an aural ride like very few I've listened to recently. Maybe it's my unabashed love for french retro kicking in, maybe it's the fact that I find the sound so recognizable in no small amount thanks to years and years of listening to bands like Air and singers like Gainsbourg, I don't know. What I do know is that this compilation is fast becoming a precious item in my aural library.

But let's hear some music. Here's Nino Ferrer's Looking For You. Which I am.

I am pretty sure only a small minority of you have heard or know about Glenmor. To this day he remains a national treasure to all french bretons and for no small reason. Hailed as one of the greatest poets that ever lived there, he ended his professional life receiving accolade after accolade. But that is not why I chose to talk about him here today and why I made this particular album - Cet Amour-là... - the aural recommendation of this month.

When I first listened to it, I was a bit taken aback at the strength of his voice and at the complete bravery of the way he delivered the words of the songs. It's something between singing and poetry recital. But the amazing thing is it works, no matter how high-browed in a beatnik kinda way it may seem at first. Which it can be, at times.

Glenmor is the nom-de-plume of Emile Le Scanf, and it means Earth-Sea in breton. Having traveled a-plenty when he was young, he then decided to dedicate his life to poetry and music. This is just one example of his large output. And I simply love that cover! Listen to the title track and have a great Sunday while you're at it!

Rufus Wainwright's new album - All Days Are Nights: Songs for Lulu - is a rare thing in pop music today. A veritable treasure trove of meticulously composed piano songs, it manages to not be repetitive, self-indulgent or vain. It is instead beguiling, wondrous and completely addicting. But not at first. It takes some listening before it all starts to make sense and for all its dormant beauties to come out from within the intricate patterns of the songs. Which is always a good sign, in my book.

According to him, this particular album serves as a sort of sorbet between courses, in which he takes a break from all the heavy instrumentation that sometimes plagues his other previous albums (though I've never minded that...) and goes back to the basics, in this case, the piano-based song (he being a big fan of the instrument and of the opinion that the piano song is the basis of all pop music, going back to the german lieder as a tradition).

I went to see him live last month and the show was great, just him and the piano and it had two very distinct parts. In the first part, he played the whole of the new album! Every single song! Talk about spoiling the fans. Anyway, enough chit-chat, let's hear some music. Here's my favorite: The Dream.

And speaking of beautiful male voices, here's one that ties the post about The Divine Comedy written below and the next video I shall be posting very soon: Scott Walker and his second solo album, simply titled 2.

I've listened so much to his music and voice that he's almost part of my own DNA. He touches all the right nerves and spots and I really feel transported to a very special place in my mind whenever I listen to one of his songs. This album in particular has a handful of my favorite songs from him but I guess I could've picked any album from the first part of his career (which continues to be the benchmark of the continuous fascination he provoques on audiophiles, although he'd be very mad at these words if he read them, with all the avant-garde records he's been putting out recently) and I wouldn't go wrong.

If you like lushly orchestrated pop ballads sung in the most melifluous of voices, this is the record for you. And I leave you with a masterpiece: Plastic Palace People. Until the next post, be safe.

I just love it when I listen to a new band or sound and it instantly clicks. That's exactly what it happened with Austin, Texas based band Shearwater. They've recently released a new album but I'm still going through their back catalogue and finding a bounty of reasons to write about each and every one of them in here. Today, I'm focusing on their second album proper, Rooks.

Rooks finds Shearwater perfecting their preciously woven sound with even greater epic sounding songs and wide scope-like musical canvas. And then there is that voice. My God. It's been a long time since I've heard such a crystalline sounding male voice, perfectly in command of the song's emotional curves and thematic arches, frail and delicate one second and brave and commanding the other. I'm hooked.

I'm going to leave you with one of its grander moments, The Snow Leopard. Please enjoy it.

Something strange happens when The Divine Comedy release a new album. Unknowingly to the impending release, I start listening to their records almost as a compulsion and then when I go to their official website to find out what they've been up to recently, I discover that they are about to put out a new album in the near future. Serendipity, they call it.

This is their last one and its title - Victory for the Comic Muse - is a nod to their very first and quite rare album - Fanfare for the Comic Muse - a quite different and very indie-sounding recording that is very much at odds with their following releases.

Victory (...) sees them return to their comic sensibility at its best, combining satirical lines with british wit and heartfelt lyrics often through the course of a single song. It's a trait that its mastermind, Neil Hannon, has been demonstrating again and again to be his main gift and reason behind the band's success. And noone does it quite like him. His character driven songs woven through exquisitely melodic songs are quite a treasure in today's music scene. Not to mention his amazing voice, seemingly intact since he started his career.

I'm going to leave you with my favorite song of the album, the affecting Lady Of A Certain Age. Brilliant, that's all I have to say.

And speaking of bands that can be filed under the "Baroque Pop" musical section, here's what's probably the most famous of them all: The Zombies.

But, amazingly, it almost was not to be so. Odessey and Oracle is now considered a pop music classic, filled to the brim with gems of compositional brilliance and highly elaborate arrangements. To think that they had such shortage of money at the time of its recording, they were still able to produce high quality material that still sounds as strong today as it did then. Talk about working on a shoe string! And the fact that their own record company didn't believe in the material they were producing! It just goes to show...

After being rediscovered by a multitude of new fans and being hailed as a "lost" masterpiece, they never stopped. Shame that it took them so long. Oh, well - better late than ever, I suppose. I leave you today with A Rose For Emily. Bye.

The good thing about music is that no matter how much songs or albums you listen to, there are still thousands upon thousands more to discover. So, I guess it's really up to you to go on a journey that lasts a lifetime, a journey that sooner or later it's going to give you something strange or beautiful (or both) that you'll treasure for years to come. And although today's recommendation isn't earth shattering or genius-like, I'm glad I found them.

The Left Banke were one of many 60's american bands that got together and cut an album or two, only to break-up and disband a few years later. The CD era gave these "lost" bands and their records a second life and being rediscovered was both a blessing to them as to us, because otherwise we wouldn't even know about them if it wasn't for those shiny compact discs. Anyway, but on to the music.

Baroque Pop was a term coined to describe pop music that featured heavy strings arrangements and the use of instruments often associated with that movement, such as the harpsichord. The results are both magical and ethereal and very vintage sounding. The Left Banke were one of many bands that used that particular sound to express their musical sensibilities and after listening to their songs, you get the feeling that suddenly you've tapped into a whole other aural dimension, one filled to the brim with imagery reminding us of old houses, green gardens, dusty books and mossy trees. Just my kind of place, actually. See what you think: here's Pretty Ballerina.

Another great compilation of french yé-yé songs, this time focusing on the years between 1968-71 and featuring both female and male singers. Pretty wild stuff in here! And great cover art, too designed by the french Andy Warhol, Guy Peellaert.

One other great thing about this compilation is that all of the tracks were on CD for the first time when this came out. Wonderful public service, don't you think? The music, unsurprisingly, retained the same charm and the same power to affect your senses and move your hips. Oh, and there's plenty of undiscovered gems to get you glued to your computer for hours on end just to know that little bit more about that particular track from that particular artist you just cannot get enough of.

One such example is this, La Drogue, by duo Messieurs Richard de Bordeaux & Daniel Beretta. Fantastic song it is, too. See you soon.

I'd like to go full circle with this string of posts dedicated to glam rock and close off with Jobriath's sophomore and ultimately last album, Creatures From The Street. Made just one year after his mercurial debut album, here we see the singer/songwriter venturing himself into whole new musical worlds and reaching far into his own private galaxy of sound sensibilities (sorry about the space metaphors but with Jobriath I guess it just comes naturally, as I'm sure a lot of you out there will agree).

I personally think this is a much better album than the first one, more sonically accomplished and a lot more adventurous. We can even find traces and hints of what he could've done next hadn't his career been cut off short by lack of promotion and proper album sales. There's also a couple of big orchestra numbers that might have been included on that musical he said to have been composing at the time of his death. Great stuff it is, too.

I'm going to leave you with my favorite track from the album, the enigmatically titled Ecubyan. Take care, y'all.

Apparently, Jobriath wrote or was writing a musical called Pop Star at the time of his death and only God knows how great that would have been had he finished it. I don't know if John Cameron Mitchell knew about this or not but Hedwig and the Angry Inch I guess could pass as that unfinished musical. At least in my mind, anyway.

Again, Glam Rock scene in all its glitzy glory, lots of funky clothes, great, great songs from beginning to end and a must-have soundtrack for any discerning music fan. Mitchell also plays the main part and he does it memorably, infusing his performance and the delivery of every song with such emotion and passion, it becomes a sort of cathartic experience not only for him I'm sure, but for the viewer as well.

"Transexuality gone wrong" never seemed so glamorous and heart-breaking at the same time and you can't help sympathizing with the main character even if you try. Its most poignant moment, though is this: Wicked Little Town.