AUSTIN, Texas - Alexis Puentes is running late with his sound check, but the crowd at Copa, a popular Latin dance bar on Congress Avenue here, seems driven to distraction. It's hard not to stare at Puentes, who performs as Alex Cuba. There's his towering Afro reminiscent of Sly Stone's, the bushy sideburns that jut out to the corners of his mouth, the tight-as-Tupperware ripped jeans, the big brown eyes, and the toothy white smile Al Green used to flash back in the '70s.

Puentes, in town for the South by Southwest music festival, looks exactly like his music sounds: funky, soulful, and, yes, suave. Fifteen minutes into his set, the audience, which had been seated cross-legged on the floor, has gotten up to dance, one by one like dominoes in reverse. They're spinning around the dance floor, all elbows and hips and Coronas swinging from hands held aloft. But Puentes is giving them something irresistible and completely unexpected: an evening of old-school soul and funk - en español.

Here's where the mambo record skips a beat. Puentes is a 33-year-old Cuban singer-songwriter who knows those three words are fraught with expectations and, usually, misconceptions. For the casual fan, Cuban music often equals the 1-2-3 of cha-cha, the infectious rhythms of Cuban son (more cowbell!). It's salsa queen Celia Cruz, the wizened singers of the Buena Vista Social Club, or maybe solitary troubadour Silvio Rodríguez.

From the first note strummed on his acoustic guitar, Puentes and his two backing musicians make it clear at Copa that this isn't the Buena Vista Social Club convening. He's like Marvin Gaye singing soul for a new generation - a Spanish-speaking audience hungry for something more organic and tangible than your typical Latin-pop star.

"There's definitely a perception of what Cuban music is in the United States, and it can be kind of narrow," Puentes says a few days later over coffee. "[People] think 'Guantanamera' or Buena Vista Social Club. That's fine, but that's not me. I don't consider my music just Cuban music. It's more than that."

Even more confounding is the fact that Puentes, who makes his Boston-area debut at the Regattabar Wednesday, lives with his wife and three kids in Canada, in Smithers, a scenic town in northern British Columbia, and that's where he eventually found his musical identity.

Born in Artemisa, about 40 miles from Havana, Puentes was raised on the Cuban classics by his guitarist father, but he also grew up listening to American jazz, blues, soul, and rock 'n' roll. Michael Jackson was just as important as Tito Puente.

The duality of his upbringing is the cornerstone of his sophomore album, "Agua del Pozo" ("Water From the Well"), which was released on iTunes in this country in February. Puentes comes on strong with a mix of slow-burning soul songs ("Amor Infinito") and infectious dance tunes (the thumping title track) driven by Cuban percussion, horns, and Puentes's guitar and bass.

Not just a party soundtrack, the album has quieter moments that are just as intense. The ballad "Lamento" is remarkable for its minor-key electric guitar melody and the lament in question: "I walk aimlessly/ Without knowing why I didn't look for you today," Puentes sings in Spanish.

Puentes has taken his time to get to the heart and soul of his new album. He made his television debut at 4 years old, playing clave with his father's band. He took music lessons at an early age, learning from his father, whom Puentes calls an "encyclopedia of Cuban music," in addition to studying with instructors at the local "casa de cultura," a government-sponsored program where musicians teach kids for free. At 14, he started playing bass and anything else he could get his hands on and soon made a name for himself in the community.

But it wasn't until Puentes moved to Canada that he found a voice to match that name. Puentes accompanied his father's band to Vancouver in 1995, where he met his future wife. They got married within months of dating, moved to Cuba for a while, and then returned to Canada in 1999 to stay.

As he did so quickly in his homeland, Puentes has already distinguished himself in the Canadian music scene. In 2001, as the Puentes Brothers, Alexis and his fraternal twin, Adonis, recorded "Morumba Cubana" ("Cuban Style"), a collection of mostly originals heavily indebted to traditional Cuban music.

The album was nominated for a Juno Award, Canada's equivalent of a Grammy, for world-music album of the year. Puentes's solo debut, "Humo de Tabaco" ("Tobacco Smoke"), won that award in 2006, and "Agua del Pozo" continued the winning streak earlier this year.

Joby Baker, who produced "Agua del Pozo," met Puentes when he first arrived in Canada and has watched his friend and fellow musician come into his own, but only after leaving his comfort zone.

"He never sang before he moved to Canada. Coming up here, he started looking at the guitar and writing his own songs," Baker says. "His music isn't sounding so traditionally Cuban anymore because he's really immersed himself in the music scene here. He's living 14 hours north of Vancouver with his wife's family, and he's surrounded by people who play roots music. He's soaking that up like a sponge."

Baker says when Puentes started singing, it was a huge step forward, especially given the uniqueness of his voice.

"When you come from Cuba, the type of voice that people like and notice is the voice that's like a trumpet," Baker says. "It's a voice that can cut through a big band, very loud and dramatic. Alex has a rich, smoky, soft voice. Having said that, he can also rock out."

Puentes echoes Baker's sentiments that it took leaving Cuba to find his place.

"North America taught me that no matter how much you learn, no matter how many technical skills you develop and how high you take them, if you forget your soul," Puentes says, punctuated by a pause, "you're nothing."

He gives Canada all the credit, but it would have happened anywhere, he acknowledges, except maybe in the United States.

"If I would have gone straight to Miami, you and I wouldn't be talking right now," he says, referring to the fact that he probably wouldn't be able to develop his own style in a predominantly Latin music community. "My heroes right now would be Gloria and Emilio Estefan. If I had gone to Miami, I don't think Alex Cuba would be allowed."

Back at Copa, a packed house has allowed Puentes to do whatever he wants, including an interesting choice to wind down the night: "El Carretero," a Cuban staple most likely introduced to American audiences on Buena Vista Social Club's self-titled debut from 1997.

"Well," he later concedes with an ear-to-ear smile, "that's a great song. Sometimes you can't deny something is really good regardless of where it came from."