Signor Conte may be many things, but nobody could deny him a unique niche in musical history. Sure, many tracks here have parallels with other artists, but the grizzled chain-smoking Italian geezer is truly a revelation at times, displaying a crisp, assured and playful piano style while singing anywhere between a sunn-drenched moan and a late-night growl. You can see where the comparisons with Tom Waits came from, but I hear echoes of Jacques Brel and Georges Braessens too.
At his best, he flirts between a noirish cabaret chanteur and a hip jazzy swinger with aplomb. In fact, he shows genius at weaving in a kaleidoscope of twinkling nods within a wide musical palette, including styles now in revival (tangos and quadrilles, for example) - derivitive without ever sounding less than original and unique. Think of a cool dude with every hint of fashionability extracted. He is what he is and feels as comfortable as an old pair of jeans.
At worst, he veers towards the dreaded easy listening turf - no surprise then that Terry Wogan "discovered" the artist for British audiences. Conte's class and sheer exuberance should help him to establish a wider following than the unfortunate Radio 2 label he's been saddled with.