East Timor only seems to arrive in the news in fleeting glimpses, usually when the story of the – œBalibo Five’ takes another turn or in relation to that pesky question about the rightful ownership of that oil below the Timor Straits.

For Timor to rate a mention in the entertainment section of our papers it takes something truly unusual or extraordinary to arrive. In 2009, with the help of soccer team owner and Hollywood star Anthony LaPaglia, East Timor has made it onto our cinema screens and, through the recognition of singer/songwriter Ego Lemos’ talents, East Timor has even rated a mention in the music press.

With Cinco do Oriente, apparently “East Timor’s most popular contemporary band”, Lemos recorded two albums but O Hele Le – his solo debut – will bring his voice to a far wider audience. The record opens with Balibo, which won the 2009 APRA Screen Music Award for “Best Original Song”. With a slight Hollywood touch, such as the addition of a thankfully unobtrusive string section, it sets up the whole record as a soundtrack of sorts as Lemos sings about the troubles and joys of his homeland.

He has toured the world speaking at conferences on, of all things, “permaculture-based revitalization”, but has now turned his attention to his music – though his other work shows through in many lyrics about the need to protect the natural beauty of East Timor. Lemos sings in his native tongue, Tetum, but like any great singer he has the ability to convey emotions beyond the mere words he sings.

Without wanting to detract from the obvious importance of his words, reading the translations of his lyrics in the CD booklet can flatten the music into laments for his country. One of the pleasures of hearing a singer perform in another language is the simple reminder of the inexplicable power of music to convey a message without needing to know exactly what they’re saying.

The simple literal meaning of the lyrics is rarely the source of their power – it’s all in the delivery. Sometimes it’s lost in translation – think of hearing Serge Gainsbourg purr sweetly into your ear in French and then making the queasy discovery that he’s singing something to the effect of “I come and I go between your kidneys”. Sometimes a singer simply speaks volumes without needing to he understood – think of Sigur Ros’ gobbledigook, Mark Hollis’ indecipherable lyrics on the later Talk Talk records or even a wailing cry from Little Richard or Prince.

Basically you don’t need to turn to the translations of Lemos’ lyrics to hear the sorrow of Haburas Rai, the pride of Timor Loro Sa’e, the celebration of Tebe Hamutuk or the love evident on Dame Iha Timor – a tender ballad which declares “Timor, land of my birth/Land of my spilled blood/ I live and die with you”.

Sadly this album will find itself stranded in that CD shop ghetto known as the – œWorld Music’ waiting to be whisked away to soundtrack a tiny dusty cafe specialising in single source, fair trade coffee and back issues of Socialist Alternative. But the understated sounds of O Hele Le are well worth a listen for any fans of those other gentle folk tinged records from the likes of Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes and others.

For Lemos, “the aim of these recordings is to share with the rest of the world Timorese music, and the messages about peace and nature, and moreover, to diversify the roots of the world music”. It’s a grand vision, but he’s up to the task.