Most Popular

"Most Popular" tools sponsored by:

Recent Articles

Recent Articles by Ted B. Kissell

  • Coffin Classics

    The Subculture that Would Not (Un) Die Lusts for New Blood

  • Lhasa

    The Living Road Nettwerk

  • CUT!

    The 25 Most Unbearable Miami Movies Ever Made

  • Cruel or Usual Punishment?

    Miami-Dade County has a hands-off policy toward its schoolchildren, but that doesn't mean corporal punishment has gone away

  • Eads's Greed

    When the Coral Gables city manager leaves his post, he may be a very rich man

National Features >

  • Broward-Palm Beach New Times

    Sexual Healing

    For Florida's sole remaining sex surrogate, love is a many splintered thing.

    By Michael J. Mooney

  • City Pages

    Your Friendly Neighborhood War Profiteer

    It's not just giant companies cashing in on America's defense industry.

    By Jeff Severns Guntzel

  • The Pitch

    Supersizing Sonic

    How a throwaway idea at the Barkley ad agency became the "Sonic Guys."

    By Justin Kendall

  • Houston Press

    Temples of Tex-Mex

    A diner's guide to Texas's oldest Mexican restaurants.

    By Robb Walsh

Lhasa

The Living Road Nettwerk

By Ted B. Kissell

Published on August 26, 2004

 

Dorothy Parker once wrote that Katherine Hepburn ran the "gamut of emotions from A to B." Well, it's not as if Lhasa de Sela can't sing, but she conveys a range of emotions that goes from A to A-and-a-half. The Mexican-American musician first introduced us to her husky alto on her 1997 Spanish-language release, La Llorona. Her sophomore disc is even more worldly: The Living Road contains performances in Spanish, French, and English. Unfortunately, the linguistic legerdemain doesn't work, and the blame rests solely on Lhasa's vocal limitations.

The worst of the four lousy English-language tracks on The Living Road is "Small Song," a wince-inducing, ersatz blues debacle that would sound perfectly at home in a karaoke bar. Lhasa fares better in Spanish: On "Pa' Llegar a Tu Lado," her mournful phrasing feels genuine, evoking a very sad Cesaria Evora. Her mannered delivery works best on the three French tunes, especially "J'Arrive a la Ville," a dirge-like bundle of vibes, strings, and faint echoes of Nick Cave and Tom Waits. Between its creepy circus arrangement and Lhasa's hypnotically detached crooning, the song generates some tension and gut feeling, qualities sorely lacking on most of this underwhelming effort.



Miami New Times Insiders

  • Local food, music and news blasts
  • Free Stuff