Describing Leonard Cohen’s appeal succinctly would be like trying to snatch an eel from a barrel with a chopstick. Not only is the subject sleek, and in its element, evolved to unassailability, but the ready tools to simplify the process of capture are frankly, inadequate. He is too raw and real emotionally. Cohen might be more anonymous, but the clear parallel is to Bob Dylan. What he was to American folklore, Cohen was to debunking the myth of heroic masculinity; their common access point, popular music.
Cohen’s first record, Songs of Leonard Cohen came out in 1967 and was inspired by serious literature, a pursuit that predated his musical ascension. That all encompassing concern with the word is clear in the artful, carefully constructed lyrics that burst forth with songs like “Suzanne” or “So Long, Marriane” tracks that looks as astounding on the page as they do in performance. They are more sensually explorative than Dylan’s, more into defining the distance between two people than two cities. Of course, one couldn’t exist without the other. Cohen seems to record his album with a similar engineering zeitgeist: make the voice the instrument, all else is backing material. He isn’t necessarily playing with the listener’s ear on “Winter Lady” or “Sisters of Mercy”. Rather, he is implanted like an artificial heart. Later albums would accomplish more (Songs of Love and Hate) or contain more memorable tracks (Death of a Ladies Man) but clearly, as most true artists, his body of work needed precedent.
All of that was set here, with something as simply titled as Songs of Leonard Cohen. The line of emotion that ascended from love and hate, to mortal remorse, to the plight of AIDS in the modern world was sourced in a deceptively simple album of folk songs. This re-issue is academic, bonus songs almost wholly unimportant. This is one of the most impacting records of its kind; its appreciation, a password to a world of more abundant humanity. |