Lhasa

I first heard Lhasa de Sela in 1998. At the time, Keith was occasionally looking after the audio at the Top O’ The Senator, a small jazz space above The Senator Restaurant downtown. It was still early in our relationship; we were in an on moment in our on-again-off-again dating cycle.

I remember that I was just hanging around my apartment, goofing off with no plans of doing anything else for the night. Keith called me after the sound check, around dinner time, and asked if I wanted to catch the show.

“If I can’t get you on the list, I’ll pay the cover. I think you’ll like her.”

Knowing even then that Keith would not voluntarily pay a cover to see just anyone, I grabbed my bag and headed downtown.

And he was right. I did like her. There was something about that smokey voice that was so seductive. She seemed to pour herself into every song and then with a sly smile and mischievous look, would pour the song into you.  She sang in Spanish, French and Russian; I didn’t understand what she was singing but in a way I cannot explain it made the experience even better.

She was one of those performers that I never grew bored of. I made sure to check her website often, so I could catch her whenever she played in Toronto. I made Keith call in favours to get me on the guest list for her sold out show at the Toronto International Jazz Festival. Her music has always been in steady rotation in cd players and in the iPods. It smooths some of the more jagged pieces of my soul.

Tonight I heard on the news that she has passed away from breast cancer. She was 37 years old.

The loss of that smokey voice has affected me. The manner of the loss brings memories of other losses, and has me reaching for the iPod to look for something to smooth out the jagged edges.