I've remarked before on the extraordinary amount of important artists we lost in 2016, a year that seems to grow into an Armageddon for popular music. One further huge blow came with the passing of one of our greatest poets/songwriters, Leonard Cohen. At 82, we should have been prepared for it but he was still too vital, making beautiful records and giving amazing performances. I was lucky enough to see him in Rotterdam 3 years ago, a 3-hour show during which he was tireless, and constantly emanated warm gentlemanly charm, humour and love for his art, band and audience. In the few days since his death an awful lot has been written, Greek media focusing on his residence in the Greek island of Hydra where he wrote so many of his songs and books, including the novel sitting now on my bedside table, "Beautiful Losers". Others focused on the story of his retreat to a Zen monastery, and his stepping out of retirement after realizing his manager had embezzled all of his money. Amazing to think we owe this extremely creative last decade to a simple swindle. Still others focused on the women in his life, including Marianne and Suzanne whom he immortalized in song. There's really nothing left to add, and none of it is important anyway except for the music and poetry. I've been listening to him a lot lately, and I decided to present one of my favourite albums of his here.
In 1988 Cohen was sidelined by the music industry - not surprisingly, since he hadn't made a really good album since 1974's "New Skin for the Old Ceremony". Nobody must have expected him to deliver such a thoroughly modern-sounding album and such a batch of soon-to-be-classic songs. "First We Take Manhattan" is a bold opener, with its aggressive lyric, quasi-disco intro and new wave synths. "They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom/For trying to change the system from within/I'm coming now, I'm coming to reward them/First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin". Powerful words and, like always, open to interpretations. When asked about the meaning, Cohen replied drily that it's a terrorist song and that he always admired terrorists, not for their acts, but for their unstoppable urge to change the world. He has described the narrator as "an outsider, demented and menacing", but he obviously inhabits this character with exultation. "Ain't No Cure for Love", on the other hand, is as straight a love song as it comes. Almost banal with its AOR production, soulful backing vocals and sax, it was the safe choice for a single. It's true that the album's "modern" 80's production now sounds hopelessly dated, but this collection of songs is so strong that such nuisances barely register. "Everybody Knows" is introduced with some dramatic (true or synthesized) strings and more poignant ruminations on the state of the world "Everybody knows that the dice are loaded/
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| The Greek edition of "Beautiful Losers" |
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed/Everybody knows that the war is over/Everybody knows the good guys lost/Everybody knows the fight was fixed/The poor stay poor, the rich get rich". In typical Cohen manner, the focus abruptly shifts from the political to the personal while he utters some of the sharpest put-downs ever to a former lover "Everybody knows that you love me baby...Everybody knows you've been discreet/But there were so many people you just had to meet/Without your clothes". The unexpected use of an oud contributes to what I can only describe as a perfect song. Exceptionally, the same can be said for the next two tracks here: "I'm Your Man" is one of the most beautiful, passionate, sick love songs. Over a slow rhythmic track, the singer begs for his loved one's attention in the most horny, desperate, undignified way. It's funny, yet touching. It takes some very strong poetry to stoop so low and get lauded for your passion instead of being ridiculed, and only two men have ever pulled it off: Cohen, and Jacques Brel on "Ne Me Quitte Pas". Talking about strong poetry, "Take This Waltz" is adapted from a poem by one of the all-time greats: Federico Garcia Lorca. It is another perfect pairing of words and music, with its romantic violin and wonderful female backing vocals, while even Cohen abandons his talking/singing style for a more melodic approach. It's followed by the record's relatively poorest song, the humorous experimental new-wave of "Jazz Police". "I Can't Forget" (...but I don't remember what) features another humorous lyric, and a strange combination of country (listen to that steel guitar) and electronic sounds. It's been covered by The Pixies, whose Frank Black has always professed the influence Cohen's singing always had on him - obviously his influence has spread over many decades and musical genres. The album closes with an ode to songwriting, probably the best ever: the singer pays his dues living (100 floors under Hank Williams, apparently) in the "Tower Of Song", tranforming the story of his love and life into songs. Best line of the song: the wry, sarcastic "I was born like this, I had no choice/I was born with the gift of a golden voice". Supposedly self-mocking, it never fails to get a big reaction when played live, Cohen having long since turned the handicap of his limited vocal range to an asset, by way of his warm and soothing yet precise delivery. The man had infinate charm and a god given talent for words. If he had lived 100 years it still wouldn''t have been enough, but thankfully he's left plenty behind for us to explore and to treasure. This album may be the perfect starting point.
***** for First We Take Manhattan, Everybody Knows, I'm Your Man, Take This Waltz, Tower of Song
**** for Ain't No Cure for Love, I Can't Forget
*** for Jazz Police
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