She is an unlikely pop star, Julieta Venegas, especially in the Latin music world. She plays the accordion, for God's sake. She even calls herself geeky, though pretty but slightly awkward chica next door is probably more accurate.

There's definitely no ostentatious cleavage or babelicious mincing in her videos or appearances. Instead, she's romancing a werewolf in a silent film-style satire, or playing accordion with old school Norteño legends Los Tigres del Norte.

Even her songs are spiked with complicated sentiments and sharp observations -- in Limón y Sal (Lime and Salt), the title of her latest CD, she proclaims at the very beginning, ''I'm so sick of love songs.'' That's a sacrilegious statement in Latin culture.

Natural has been surprisingly successful for Venegas, who's an anomaly in the Latin pop world: An independent, self-defined female songwriter who puts her art above her sex appeal yet still has had significant mainstream success.

Born in Southern California to Mexican parents and raised in Tijuana, the 36-year-old Venegas became an underground star on the Latin alternative scene at the end of the 1990s with introspective, dark, and daringly experimental songs that had some critics comparing her to English language alternative idols like PJ Harvey and Bjork.

Aquí (1996) and Bueninvento (2000), the two albums she made with Gustavo Santaolalla, producer for key Latin rockers such as Juanes, Molotov and Café Tacuba (and more recently an Oscar-winner for his scores for Brokeback Mountain and Babel), won critical raves.

Then, in 2003, she came out with Sí, a sunny, melodic collection of love songs whose cover showed Venegas in a wedding dress and spawned several hits. She also had a new producer, Argentine Coti Sororkin, who co-wrote a number of songs.

Suddenly she was all over mainstream radio and TV, earning three Latin Grammy nominations. Last year's Limón y Sal was in the same vein: smart, well crafted, and undeniably pop music. It won a Grammy for Best Latin Pop Album and five Latin Grammy nominations, including Record and Song of the Year, going on to win for Best Alternative Album.

'When I was going to start writing songs for Sí I thought, `I've written so many songs about being sad and angry and melancholy and never been able to write a song about being happy,' '' she says.

Enrique Blanc, a Mexican music critic whose book on Venegas, De mis pasos -- conversaciones con Julieta Venegas, was recently published in Spain, says musicianship is at the heart of everything she does.

That credibility largely stems from Venegas' considerable musical skills. She writes, plays and arranges her own songs, drawing on a unusual combination of formal education and bi-cultural pop savvy.

She began studying piano at age 8, going on to learn guitar and accordion, and studying music theory, voice, cello and violin in Mexico and San Diego before finishing high school.

Growing up in Tijuana with dual U.S.-Mexican citizenship, she crossed the border regularly, working in a California music store, watching American TV and listening to U.S. pop radio.

At 22 she went to Mexico City and became part of its vibrant rock scene. She likes alternative music from both sides of the border, but also oom-pah Mexican banda and cry-in-your-tequila rancheras. ''There's nothing better than singing a ranchera when you're really drunk,'' she says.

But Venegas' independent, natural persona also stands out in a Latin music world where female pop singers still tend to be groomed to a near surreal degree of sex appeal, mouthpieces for other people's music and marketing.

Catch Venegas on the red carpet at a glam fest like Univisión's annual Premio lo nuestro awards, and she looks slightly uncomfortable. The U.S. music world may have Jessica Simpson, but it also has the Dixie Chicks and Amy Winehouse. Female artists who don't fit the commercial mold, like Colombia's Andrea Echeverrí and Spain's Bebe, whom Venegas admires, are on the rise in the Latin music world, but they haven't had mainstream success to match Venegas.

Venegas says she's never been pressured to vamp up her image or tone down her music. But she thinks the Latin music world may be a little bit behind the cultural curve.

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