Scott Walker: 30 Century Man

Stephen Kijak's 2008 documentary about notoriously reclusive singer Scott Walker, 30 Century Man (Oscilloscope Laboratories), which features lengthy testimonials from musicians including David Bowie (also executive producer) and Radiohead about the hold Walker continues to have on their work, is now out on DVD.

Walker's genre-defying output has confounded and captivated listeners for four decades—and his cult only grows. Below, a look at his strange career, followed by a selection of albums by musicians in thrall to Walker's siren song.

Hovering at the fringes of our popular culture like some sort of silent, wronged ghost, Scott Walker (né Noel Scott Engel) had it all—and gladly threw it away. Discovered by Eddie Fisher in the late 1950s, he rose to fame in the mid-1960s as part of the vocal trio (and proto-boy band) the Walker Brothers. After years spent cutting an elegant swath through psychedelic London with their ornate, gloomy laments, the transplanted Californians started to chafe under stylistic restrictions and their hypermanic teenage fanbase, none more so than Scott.

Legend has it that Walker tried to kill himself during the height of Walkermania and, failing that, fled to a monastery. He was ejected when the gates were besieged by screaming fans.

Walker struck out on his own in 1967, cutting four essential solo albums in quick succession: Scott (1967), Scott 2 (1968), Scott 3 (1969), and Scott 4 (1969). Each album on its own is impressive enough; taken as a whole, they're magnificent (oh, how that fathoms-deep baritone swells and falls!) and belong in every library collection.

For those not wanting to go the full Walker, try Boy Child 67–70 (UME Imports. 1992. UPC 7-31454-27052-6), a heady selection of self-penned solo cuts.

Walker spent the 1970s and 1980s in virtual exile from the music business and didn't fully "reemerge" into the pop spotlight until Tilt (Drag City. 1995. UPC 0-36172-91342-8), an album rife with harsh white noise, near-industrial rhythms, cruel grunts, and mournful howls. His latest release, The Drift (4AD Records. 2006. UPC 6-52637-26032-8), though even more sonically impenetrable than Tilt, won over critics as well.

Between The Drift, the documentary, a sublime guest vocal on the Bat for Lashes album Two Suns, and his 2007 score for modern dance, And Who Shall Go to the Ball?, this is the most furious creative harvest from Walker we've seen in decades. Is pop music's J.D. Salinger back for good?

For a real sense of Walker's influence on popular music over the decades, here is a selection of essential albums from his more famous acolytes.

Antony and the Johnsons. I Am a Bird Now. Secretly Canadian. 2005. UPC 6-56605-01052-6.

Torch songs from androgynous NYC performer Antony, with guest appearances by Lou Reed and others.

David Bowie. Heroes. Virgin. 1977. UPC 7-24352-19080-5.

Bowie let his inner Walker shine with beautiful ballads like the title track.

Dead Can Dance. Into the Labyrinth. 4AD. 1993. UPC 6-52637-27112-6.

A hybrid of gothic, folk, and world music thoroughly infected by the doomed romance of early Walker solo work.

Radiohead. OK Computer. Capitol. 1997. UPC 7-24385-52292-5.

Walker has referred to mutually admiring Radiohead as the band he wished he could have been in.

Elliott Smith. Elliott Smith. Kill Rock Stars. 1995. UPC 7-59656-02462-4.

Star-crossed Smith never sounded more devastated than on this haunting debut.

Sting. The Soul Cages. A&M. 1991. UPC 0-75021-64052-8.

The melancholy reflections on mortality that populate this record are pure Walker.