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Perhaps the only thing that could keep Lhasa de Sela from being a star is Lhasa herself. With a breathy, emotive voice that cuts to the bone, a hip, pan-cultural sensibility, and an offbeat musical vision, her appeal to the Lucinda Williams crowd seems obvious. Except that Lhasa sings in Spanish, despite being born in New York State and based in Montreal (her second album, The Living Road, presents four songs in English, and a few in French). And she devotes as much time to her painting and circus career as to music, it seems --- her head-turning debut, La Llorona, appeared back in 1997. She is, in short, a less-than-conventional artist. All the more reason to savor The Living Road, whose comet-like rarity is mollified by a more-than-generous running time. Listen a few songs at a time -- you never know when her next album might be coming. Just a few songs are sufficient to draw listeners close to Lhasa's world. Unconventional instruments such as marimba, theremin, ukulele, and bass clarinet float around a thudding percussion section for an effect that recalls the later works of Tom Waits. Some songs invoke smoky tangos, others Mexican ranchera, others still the accordion sigh of European café music. Either way, the aching catch in her voice, the dissipated sadness of her lyrics -- from "La Confession": "I'm not afraid / To say that I betrayed you / Out of pure laziness / Out of pure melancholy" -- are a portal to a gloriously moody place. One listen to this dreamy travelogue, and the reasons behind Lhasa's stubborn trajectory come clear; it's the journey, not the destination, that nourishes The Living Road. Mark Schwartz, Barnes & Noble