Lhasa’s dramatic balladry

Some people can seduce everyone in their path with the disarming power of their vulnerability, the painful contours of their shyness, the utter awkwardness of their every move.

Lhasa De Sela is one such woman.

The 32-year-old Mexican American diva looked fragile and a bit disjointed Tuesday at the Conga Room, as she sang in English, Spanish and French. She accentuated the poetry in delicious new ways. She hummed broken syllables whenever the lyrics were simply not enough to express the infinite longing in her soul.

Lhasa’s approach is highly original in the way that it merges seemingly random bits of blues, cabaret pop, Mexican ranchera and Portuguese fado into a highly dramatic brand of balladry.

But the whole conceit would fall apart if not for the raw passion of her voice. Lhasa has the ability to reach deep, cavernous notes with the conviction of a femme fatale, only to return to little-girl territory with a simple change of inflection or a self-penned verse that sounds straight out of a centuries-old lullaby.

Backed by a rock-solid guitarist and a cello player who also dabbled on the melodica, the cavaquinho (a Brazilian steel-string ukulele) and minor percussion, the singer delivered breathtaking versions of tunes from her acclaimed 1997 debut, “La Llorona,” and its more ethereal follow-up, 2003’s “The Living Road.”

Lhasa’s sonic universe may be too broad for anyone to pigeonhole her as a Latin performer. That said, contemporary Latin music certainly benefits from someone of her caliber and breadth. A stunning version of the classic Amalia Rodriguez fado “Meu Amor, Meu Amor” didn’t hurt the cause, either.