Lhasa de Sela (September 27, 1972 – January 1, 2010) – Singer/songwriter

Lhasa de Sela is one of my favorite singer/songwriters.  I connected with most of her music on a profound level.  Perhaps it was because she was raised in a nomadic lifestyle, in Mexico and the United States.  Perhaps because you can hear/feel emotions in her singing that many other singers struggle to reach.  Perhaps because she sings in three languages.

In her adult life, she split her life times between Canada and France.  She grew up speaking English and Spanish, then learned French.  In her later singing, she also began singing some songs in Arabic.  She loved difference, sound, and what it can evoke and make.

She passed on in her home in Montreal on January 1, 2010 at 37 years of age after a long bout with breast cancer.

Her website:  http://lhasadesela.com/

I present some of her music here.  She has too many that I love so I will add more at a later time.

I have lyrics to a few of the songs below the videos corresponding.

Enjoy, feel. Understand.  Miss.

RISING

I got caught in a storm
And carried away
I got turned, turned around

I got caught in a storm
That’s what happened to me
So I didn’t call
And you didn’t see me for a while

I was rising up
Hitting the ground
And breaking and breaking

I was caught in a storm
Things were flying around
And doors were slamming
And windows were breaking
And I couldn’t hear what you were saying
I couldn’t hear what you were saying
I couldn’t hear what you were saying

I was rising up
Hitting the ground
And breaking and breaking

Rising up
Rising up

EL DESIERTO

La Marée Haute

La route chante,
Quand je m’en vais.
Je fais trois pas,
La route se tait.

La route est noire,
À perte de vue.
Je fais trois pas,
La route n’est plus.

Sur la marée haute,
Je suis monté.
La tete est pleine,
Mais le coeur n’a pas assez.
Sur la marée haute,
Je suis monté.
La tete est pleine,
Mais le coeur n’a pas assez.

Mains de dentelle,
Figure de bois,
Le corps en brique,
Les yeux qui piquent.

Mains de dentelle,
Figure de bois.
Je fais trois pas
Et tu es là.

Sur la marée haute,
Je suis monté.
la tete est pleine,
Mais le coeur n’a pas assez.
Sur la marée haute,
Je suis monté.
la tete est pleine,
Mais le coeur n’a pas assez.

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