Paolo Conte is a completely original talent, and his leathery, life-weary face on the cover is the first clue to the evocative music of this poet, painter, musician, and lawyer from Asti in northern Italy. Observations on the tide of human existence deftly rendered in vividly poetic lines that startle with their originality are highlighted in smoky vignettes of '40s jazz- and tango-inflected tunes, teetering between Cabaret, The Circus, and 42nd Street. Conte's unfiltered raspy voice is the perfect vehicle for his poignant view of the foibles of adult life mused from the corner barstool, admiring women whose "pungent smells [beckon] him like an old-fashioned grocery, its doors flung open to the spring outside." The music is a treat in itself, but the real gold is to be found in his lyrics, and luckily translations are in the liner notes. --Derek Rath
