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Lhasa de Sela is one of Quebec’s Allophone singers, known for her intimate Mexican-soul fusion sung proficiently in Spanish, French and English. She is a venerated Quebecois artist because of her unique sound, her blend of tradition and heritage with something deeply personal, and the way she bridged Quebec’s language barriers. This article will explore these facets of Lhasa de Sela’s artistry by analyzing her album The Living Road as well as dance and music tributes to the album following her death in 2010. First, it will examine the context surrounding the album’s recording as well as Lhasa’s background, which led her to the creation of The Living Road. Next, the essay will focus on Lhasa’s interpretation of certain songs with specific attention to style, the contrast between Lhasa’s vocals and the instruments, and the transitions between songs. Finally, it will look at how other mediums interpret and enrich Lhasa’s album. The cover art, for example, is an understated representation of what the listener will experience in The Living Road. Additionally, numerous renowned Quebecois choreographers interpret this particular album in diverse yet coherent voices that unify in a posthumous international tribute to the singer, Danse Lhasa Danse.
Context and Background
The Living Road was recorded by Audiogram in a Montreal studio in 2003. Lhasa chose to record this album in Quebec, following the success of her debut album La Llorona (1997), which was released by Warner Music Group. Although she was a nomad all of her life, Lhasa’s Mexican roots come through in her music to mix with deep soul and soft crooning. American-born Lhasa de Sela spent her childhood moving between Mexico and the United States of America. Born to an American mother and Mexican father, both Spanish and English were part of her upbringing. At the age of 19, Lhasa moved to Montreal to be closer to her sisters who were studying at L’École Nationale de Cirque. In Montreal, Lhasa collaborated with composer, guitarist, singer and producer, Yves Desrosiers to eventually create her first album. La Llorona was a huge success and Lhasa toured Europe and North America performing her music. In 1999 Lhasa joined the circus with her sisters in France. Her nomadic lifestyle once again took hold. In 2003, Lhasa returned to Montreal to record The Living Road. It is only natural that Lhasa would write an album about travel, “whether it be wheels upon the road, or through life itself,” as Sean Carruthers (2014) aptly observes.
The Living Road was recorded by Audiogram in a Montreal studio in 2003. Lhasa chose to record this album in Quebec, following the success of her debut album La Llorona (1997), which was released by Warner Music Group. Although she was a nomad all of her life, Lhasa’s Mexican roots come through in her music to mix with deep soul and soft crooning. American-born Lhasa de Sela spent her childhood moving between Mexico and the United States of America. Born to an American mother and Mexican father, both Spanish and English were part of her upbringing. At the age of 19, Lhasa moved to Montreal to be closer to her sisters who were studying at L’École Nationale de Cirque. In Montreal, Lhasa collaborated with composer, guitarist, singer and producer, Yves Desrosiers to eventually create her first album. La Llorona was a huge success and Lhasa toured Europe and North America performing her music. In 1999 Lhasa joined the circus with her sisters in France. Her nomadic lifestyle once again took hold. In 2003, Lhasa returned to Montreal to record The Living Road. It is only natural that Lhasa would write an album about travel, “whether it be wheels upon the road, or through life itself,” as Sean Carruthers (2014) aptly observes.
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François Lalonde and Jean Massicotte produced The Living Road on the label Audiogram. There were many collaborators who worked on this album including numerous musicians on piano, bass, clarinet, percussion, cello, violin, glockenspiel, guitar, ukulele, trumpet, organ, synclavier, synthesizer and more. There was also a co-writer on at least one song: Raid Malek on “La marée haute.” The eclectic album is surprisingly cohesive. Lhasa’s voice is placed above the instruments so that there is no competition for attention, unless it is an intentional part of a song. Furthermore, the masterful fusion of warm country, sweet and feminine ranchera, cracking gospel, percussion-driven blues and gentle lullaby invites the listener into Lhasa’s dark romantic world. Finally, Lhasa’s mix of Spanish, French and English makes her music accessible to many populations. That may be one of the reasons why The Living Road peaked at #11 in Top World Music Albums in 2004. One year later, Lhasa received a BBC Radio 3 award as best world music artist of the Americas. Quebec mourned when Lhasa passed away on January 1, 2010 after a nearly two-year battle with breast cancer. She was only 37 years old but her music lives on. The Living Road, among Lhasa’s other albums, continues to travel beyond her lifespan across Quebec, Canada and overseas.
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Interpretation
The emphasis on travelling an unknown changing road is integrated into every aspect of The Living Road from the lyrics and themes to the vocals and instrumentation. In “La marée haute,” for example, Lhasa sings of her travels during high tide. The lyrics speak of the dark road that grows silent—“La route se tait”—as she journeys against the tide (line 4). She climbs and climbs, as if she cannot advance, and even though her head is satisfied or full—“La tête est pleine”—her heart pushes her on (line 11). This song is a metaphor for a romantic journey that cannot progress. The speaker encounters her lover in the second half of the song but he is wooden, hard and implacable—“Figure de bois / Le corps en brique” (lines 15-16). He is the source of resistance. At the opening of the song, the piano establishes a repetitive rhythm like a lull, circling over and over, which imitates the speaker walking. Similarly, the brass brings a wave-like quality that underlines the theme of the tide. As the music builds around 45 seconds, the percussion enters at the same moment that road disappears and high tide comes crashing in, according to the lyrics. The instruments support Lhasa’s desperate and lost-sounding voice at times but when the tides come in, the instruments and specifically the percussion are at odds with the vocals; it sounds as though the singer is actively struggling to stay above the instruments: she is drowning and trying to keep her head above water. Eventually, the vocals drift off and the instruments finish the song with one final wave.
“La marée haute” is the second song on the album, following the even pace of “Con Toda Palabra.” The Spanish song opens Lhasa’s journey on The Living Road, which is set to a regular drumbeat and simple plucks of a guitar’s strings. The second song immediately introduces the challenges that Lhasa faces along her journey. Drama continues to mount with the next song, “Anywhere On This Road.” Philly Markowitz claims that this song could be the theme song of the album because it deals with “restlessness and heartbreak,” which are two major themes in the album (Markowitz, 2014). It is a nomadic song that opens with the sound of footfalls and the tinkling of cowboy stirrups. Lhasa’s fragile voice enters on this marching beat, singing:
The emphasis on travelling an unknown changing road is integrated into every aspect of The Living Road from the lyrics and themes to the vocals and instrumentation. In “La marée haute,” for example, Lhasa sings of her travels during high tide. The lyrics speak of the dark road that grows silent—“La route se tait”—as she journeys against the tide (line 4). She climbs and climbs, as if she cannot advance, and even though her head is satisfied or full—“La tête est pleine”—her heart pushes her on (line 11). This song is a metaphor for a romantic journey that cannot progress. The speaker encounters her lover in the second half of the song but he is wooden, hard and implacable—“Figure de bois / Le corps en brique” (lines 15-16). He is the source of resistance. At the opening of the song, the piano establishes a repetitive rhythm like a lull, circling over and over, which imitates the speaker walking. Similarly, the brass brings a wave-like quality that underlines the theme of the tide. As the music builds around 45 seconds, the percussion enters at the same moment that road disappears and high tide comes crashing in, according to the lyrics. The instruments support Lhasa’s desperate and lost-sounding voice at times but when the tides come in, the instruments and specifically the percussion are at odds with the vocals; it sounds as though the singer is actively struggling to stay above the instruments: she is drowning and trying to keep her head above water. Eventually, the vocals drift off and the instruments finish the song with one final wave.
“La marée haute” is the second song on the album, following the even pace of “Con Toda Palabra.” The Spanish song opens Lhasa’s journey on The Living Road, which is set to a regular drumbeat and simple plucks of a guitar’s strings. The second song immediately introduces the challenges that Lhasa faces along her journey. Drama continues to mount with the next song, “Anywhere On This Road.” Philly Markowitz claims that this song could be the theme song of the album because it deals with “restlessness and heartbreak,” which are two major themes in the album (Markowitz, 2014). It is a nomadic song that opens with the sound of footfalls and the tinkling of cowboy stirrups. Lhasa’s fragile voice enters on this marching beat, singing:
I live in this country now |
Immediately, Lhasa addresses her nationless identity having grown up in Mexico and the United States and then moving between France and Canada to tour with the circus as well as produce music. Her transience comes through in every line: the country she inhabits is circumstantial; she uses the word “home,” yet one gets the impression that any of her previous abodes could have been home; she speaks “this language,” the French of Quebec where she is recording but in the very next song she switches to her native Spanish; even Lhasa’s name is portrayed with ephemerality, as if she might be called by another name in a different time or place, or maybe another world.
After the first stanza, the brass enters along with a sound like spoon clapping. One could imagine Lhasa as a travelling bard regaling passersby with her tales. There is danger in this song as well. The lyrics speak of a lover who “stand[s] guard with a knife” and she fears being “swallowed / In darkness again” (lines 21, 29-30). Danger creeps in the music as well, especially in the interludes between stanzas as the instruments take over and Lhasa lazily hums a spell. Tension builds higher in two full minutes of instrumentals at the end of the song until finally the spell comes to an end with heavy percussion and a closing bell. These elements—Lhasa’s transience, a sense of dangerous, and the spellbound quality of the sound—create a haunted feeling. Instead of fearing the music, however, it is comforting. Lhasa appeals to Anglophone, Francophone and Mexican/Spanish population with her multilingual album and each nation has its own baggage. Quebecois listeners would identify with “Anywhere On This Road” because they have felt displaced first by the British and then by Anglophone Canadian authorities. They have felt like visitors in their own home, trying desperately to hold onto their own country and their own language. Lhasa admits the opposite in the opening of the song because she calls this new country home and she speaks their language. Quebecois audiences would find this appealing as well because when foreigners adopt their country and language, it is perceived as a sign of respect.
The seventh song in the album, “La confession,” begins with a ‘sexy’ Latin tune by the brass instruments. Lhasa’s voice follows the seductive atmosphere set up by the musicians. She sings in a breathy voice with a touch of smokiness. She draws out the last word in each line as if she is drawing in the object of her speech. In the interludes between verses, the brass continues the seductive tune underlined by percussion. The percussion brings an earthy feeling, which contrasts with the light airiness of the brass. However, the lyrics juxtapose the air of seduction set up by Lhasa’s voice and her accompaniment. She sings of her own act of betrayal. In “La confession,” the speaker is not afraid to confess that she has cheated on her lover. She in unremorseful as she admits that:
Par pure paresse |
Laziness and discontent are the reasons for her betrayal, but one doubts the truth in those lines that when Lhasa claims that the devil was a comfortable choice. Mention of “diable” brings back the vein of danger that runs through “Anywhere On This Road,” which points to a deeper struggle within Lhasa. She claims to be afraid of her lover’s “espoir” and “grand sens / De l’honneur” (lines 14-16), but her real fear is her own ability to separate right from wrong, truth from dishonesty. In the chorus, Lhasa reveals the real reason for her infidelity: being guilty is “la seule chose / Que je peux faire / Avec une certaine certitude” (lines 23-25). She can only be sure about one thing and that is her guilt.
Lhasa’s inner struggle in this song is reminiscent of “La marée haute” because the speaker is likewise battling a seemingly insurmountable force. In “La marée haute,” the singer comes up against an outside force—the tide—that represents her inner demons, whereas the speaker in “La confession” confront her inner demons directly. There is no resolution at the end of this song because it ends with the chorus once again admitting her desire to be guilty because it is the easiest path. The listener’s only compensation is that the guilty path that Lhasa chooses wavers at times. She says, “J’ai envie de laisser tomber / Toute cette idée / De « verité »” but she does not say that she will actually do it (37-39). In the same verse, Lhasa uses conditional verb tense in the lines:
Je garderais |
I would keep pleasure and guilt as my guides is not as definitive as I will do it. Therefore, these small nuances give hope to the listener that Lhasa is not completely resigned to a life of deceit guided by pleasure, guilt and other “diabolical” impulses.
Other Media
According to the Lhasa de Sela unofficial homepage, Lhasa designed the cover art for her album, The Living Road. The drawing is a black and white sketch of a young woman and a feline travelling on an unknown journey. There are layers of circular patterns wherein the branches of a plant blow leftwards into the feline, who turns her head towards the woman, who points to a floating lamp, which then brings the eye back to the plant, thus completing the circle. This pattern may imply that all four elements of the drawing are parts of a whole: Lhasa. She is the young woman searching for answers and she uses light, nature, and her animal instincts to guide her. The ground upon which the travellers walk is also shaded into a rough circle, which suggests that forward progress is irrelevant; only the present moment holds significance. Because the artwork is a sketch instead of a complete painting, it leaves room for unbound possibilities on Lhasa’s personal journey. By using this image to represent her album, Lhasa foreshadows the understated simplicity of her collection, which does not scream its message but rather quietly, deeply, and effectively shares intimate secrets that she uncovers along the way.
In addition to Lhasa’s self-designed cover art and her own sensual trouble-laden interpretation of her songs, a selection of Montreal-based choreographers have interpreted songs from The Living Road in the posthumous tribute to the singer, Danse Lhasa Danse. The tribute was conceived by Pierre Paul Savoie to bring together voice, music and dance in homage to Lhasa de Sela. The show premiered in November 2011 and toured the province of Quebec and Canada until 2013. Danse Lhasa Danse is now touring internationally. Frédéric Darveau is the musical director and the singers include Alexandre Désilest, Karen Young, Geneviève Toupin and Alejandra Ribera. Additionally, there are seven well-known Montreal dancers interpreting choreography by Myriam Allard, Hélène Blackburn, Pierre Lecours, David Rancourt, Pierre-Paul Savoie, Roger Sinha and Edgar Zendejas. It is an impressive sight to see all of those talented artists on stage in one united show.
Sur la photo: Karen Young, Bïa, Alexandre Désilets, Alejandra Ribera, Geneviève Toupin et Thomas Hellman avec David Rancourt, Sara Harton, Julien Gagnon, Danielle Denichaud et Cai Glover. Photo: Jean‐François Leblanc – agence stock, 2012. |
Each choreographer delves into different facets of Lhasa’s album. Hélène Blackburn, for example, exploits the romantic themes. In two different duets, Rocky L. Gagné and Roxane Duchesne-Roy interchange smooth intertwining movements with dramatic lifts and daring balances. Rocky is the lead, always in control while Roxane follows and yet, the power play between the two is palpable. This is Mrs. Balckburn’s interpretation of Lhasa’s love story. Edgar Zendejas, on the other hand, immerses himself in Lhasa’s inner struggle. His dancers play tortured roles, which are interpreted through the South African slave tradition of gumboots as well as through Zendejas’ signature movements. In “La marée haute,” Sara Harton dances a heart-wrenching solo rooted to one spot. Harton uses her entire being—body and soul—to combat a force that keeps pulling her down. All the while, former BJM dancer Kevin Delaney looks on, unable to penetrate the barrier between Sara and him. Danse Lhasa Danse is a show that encompasses themes of seduction, struggle and deceit that can be found in Lhasa’s music. By bringing together a multitude of artists on one stage, Danse Lhasa Danse mimicks Lhasa’s unique inclusiveness as she fuses tradition and interiority in English, French and Spanish. As Iris Gagnon-Paradis (2011) of DFDANSE so elegantly states, this show “portrait, au-delà de ses mots [mots de Lhasa], ce supplement d’âme qui a touché tant de personnes à travers le monde.”
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