One of my favorite shows of all time was Cesária Évora at Town Hall, about fifteen years ago. The Cape Verdean singer—whose vocals seemed to both incorporate and liberate all the pain in the world—was in her prime. Known as the Barefoot Diva, she was a commanding, shoeless performing presence who had transcended the poverty and hardship of her upbringing to fill the theatre with joy. She had a strange power over audiences, and over her backing band. Though I have a profound memory of her voice, I’ll never forget the way the violinists swayed in unison behind her.

When Évora died, in December of 2011, she left behind a large number of unreleased songs. Recently, her longtime producer, José da Silva, reviewed the collection and put together “Mãe Carinhosa,” an album of songs that spans her career. It is being released today, and da Silva, who first discovered Évora more than two decades ago, when she was forty-seven, described the day that she agreed to go back to Paris with him and record as “the beginning of an adventure that changed her life but also mine.”

He selected the songs according to “Cesária’s method by making a balance of songs compared to authors and styles,” and he added that he picked “the name of the album in tribute to her mother because she used to talk a lot about her.” “Mãe Carinhosa” means “Mother Tenderness.”

My favorite song from the collection is “Essência d’Vida” (“The Essence of Life”). It contains all the elements of Évora’s work that I find so moving, and its lyrics make a poignant, compelling argument for listening to her now. They start, “If you wait to see me in heaven / Before you think of holding me dear / It may be too late, darling.” So don’t wait.