Not only have I seen Leonard Cohen sing, I've seen him dance. And smile. And crack jokes.
AKA: Oh, so that's what a religious experience feels like.
Mr. Cohen has a lovely and convincing smile, tremendous presence, impeccable manners, and a sense of inclusion which wraps itself around a crowd of thousands upon thousands. I am not really sure I can do justice to the experience with a simple review; I started sniffling while I was writing up the notes on the train and I'd already cried off all my make-up by the interval.
A few thoughts:
So poetry is for snobs, is it? Tens of thousands of snobs all singing back to the Lord of Song beats whatever egalitarian pleasures you're offering. Did you know that some people (aka, ME) like poetry AND sports AND clubbing? Amazing. ;)
I just drew a line under the whole of my childhood. I've heard more of his voice in the course of my life than I have of any voice from my own family; the concert feels like a full-stop. After this sentence, you really are a grown-up, and that's okay.
I would honestly have paid the £75 just to hear him sing Hallelujah, which he did at length and to the kind of applause that "rapturous" doesn't even begin to cover. The Man With The Golden Voice doffed his hat to us, called us friends, told us what a privilege it was to sing for us. Modest, that's the word. A battered but stylish old poet in a fedora and fantastic suit, soothing away all the self-hatred and the sore doubts and the "your art means fucking nothing" and putting a bit of meaning into the world.
In an odd sort of way, he ends up in my head being classed alongside Burroughs. But that's wonderful.
In "Because of", the man quoth, "Because of a few songs
Wherein I spoke of their mystery,
Women have been
Exceptionally kind
to my old age."
Oh no, my dear man, it's more than that; because of a few songs, where you spoke of women as people, as equals, as lovers ... and a few songs where you spoke of love as something other than a distraction or a means to an end ... where you spoke of sex in language other than bump, grind, pedestrianism and boring sameness ... because of your ability to make faith and love spell the same ... that's why.
My mother used to sing Sisters of Mercy to me as a lullaby when I was a baby. Songs of Leonard Cohen and The Best of Leonard Cohen were two of the three cassette tapes I took with me for our six-month stint in Gujarat. Leonard Cohen's music, his words and his voice, have been with me my whole life. Literally.
I'm very lucky to have been able to see him, and all the more so to have done it in the company of someone who understands that there are words which touch the parts of you that you'd never otherwise share. Hooray for redshira, hooray for The Man In The Hat. Hooray for saxophones and encores and shouting. Hooray for the poet laureate of both my mother's generation and mine.
A few quotes from the man himself:
"I was just [in the interval] having a drink with my old teacher - he's 102. I remember he said five years ago, back when he was only 97, 'forgive me for not dying'. I feel a bit like that myself."
"It's been a long time since I stood on a stage in London, about 14, 15 years. I was 60 - just a young man with a crazy dream."
"[something else] ... but since then I've gone away and thought a bit. And taken a lot of Prozac. And Paxil. And Zoloft. And Wellbruproten. And Vallium. And Ritalin. And [list continues]. And I've studied a lot of major philosophies, lots of religions. And somehow, somehow ... [pause] ... the happiness just keeps creeping back in!"
Mr. Cohen has a lovely and convincing smile, tremendous presence, impeccable manners, and a sense of inclusion which wraps itself around a crowd of thousands upon thousands. I am not really sure I can do justice to the experience with a simple review; I started sniffling while I was writing up the notes on the train and I'd already cried off all my make-up by the interval.
A few thoughts:
Wherein I spoke of their mystery,
Women have been
Exceptionally kind
to my old age."
Oh no, my dear man, it's more than that; because of a few songs, where you spoke of women as people, as equals, as lovers ... and a few songs where you spoke of love as something other than a distraction or a means to an end ... where you spoke of sex in language other than bump, grind, pedestrianism and boring sameness ... because of your ability to make faith and love spell the same ... that's why.
I'm very lucky to have been able to see him, and all the more so to have done it in the company of someone who understands that there are words which touch the parts of you that you'd never otherwise share. Hooray for redshira, hooray for The Man In The Hat. Hooray for saxophones and encores and shouting. Hooray for the poet laureate of both my mother's generation and mine.
A few quotes from the man himself:
"I was just [in the interval] having a drink with my old teacher - he's 102. I remember he said five years ago, back when he was only 97, 'forgive me for not dying'. I feel a bit like that myself."
"It's been a long time since I stood on a stage in London, about 14, 15 years. I was 60 - just a young man with a crazy dream."
"[something else] ... but since then I've gone away and thought a bit. And taken a lot of Prozac. And Paxil. And Zoloft. And Wellbruproten. And Vallium. And Ritalin. And [list continues]. And I've studied a lot of major philosophies, lots of religions. And somehow, somehow ... [pause] ... the happiness just keeps creeping back in!"