Before you dare utter any judgement, you should admit there exists some sort of a universal objective criterion. Music is contemplated. Angil once contemplated music like everybody else. He was 15. Ten years later, this remains one of the main characteristics of the musician he has become.

Precocity is only made to keep biographers flattered - he always was conscientious, so you shouldn't dare be jealous. You were not very conscientious when you were 15, were you? Angil contemplated further than this.

So much further that his fellow teen-songwriters rapidly got distanced. (For many of them life has begun - majority isn't always the best move.) As they now contemplate hardly more than a soundtrack for these lives of theirs, Angil keeps trying to supply it. Angil's songs never were a bridge. They're his road. He lives there, with his feet driving him and his shoulders pushing around.

He left on his own, and arrived several times. Angil contemplates in loops. Each time he makes a new bunch of songs he feels he has reached a goal. Then he pulls his own scarf away. He once was acoustic-guitared. He probably soon will be contemporary-orchestrated. For now, he travels electrically-modern.

Angil contemplates music unlike anyone else does. At 25. He sees in it a way to diffuse oneself. His use of instruments makes reed and strings become unexplored, never-heard material. Angil quite often re-invented fire and scales.

Once for French label Premier Disque, (Ha Ha!), when he was 21. Of the art of never settling.

Now for Unique Records. At the time of last departures. Of the courage to contemplate settling for awhile. Angil's ground may be flat, but it's never-ending. He may leave again tomorrow, or when he is 26, he will never really be there. For now, he seems to enjoy the place. A ciudad life, with a view on a parking lot. Angil drives his perfect phonetics there, bumping his way on his misplaced sensibility.

Angil is 25. Of the matter to never contemplate for free. Dare and check.