The Leonard Cohen Paradox

Reflecting on the man at what-would-be 90, plus I went to Nashville.

It's Leonard Cohen’s birthday — he would have been 90. It's a shame he’s dead, because he quite obviously would have written the best album about being 90 ever and now we'll never hear it. Selfish.

Maybe it’s a normal enough thing, but one senses the edges are being sanded off of the past-tense Cohen — the prickly, megalomaniacal, deeply-nurturing and nervous-making man that he actually was. The culture seems to have missed the point that “Hallelujah” was intended as a tough trespass into transcendence, as opposed to a simple one. When he sang “love’s the only engine of survival,” he was surely speaking the truth, but not with the remotest confidence that we would endure. 

Cohen was as funny and trenchant as Tom T. Hall, the 20th century songwriter I think he most resembles. I wrote this tweet about “Everybody Knows” after a day-long Elmore Leonard bender and a few martinis. The idea of Satan trying out his stand up act is maybe a little too much. But on the other hand maybe not enough? He’s dead, and we’re still working this out. Here’s the tweet.

In other news, I had a great time at Americana Fest in Nashville, speaking on a panel at Third Man's Blue Room, all about the just-released Bob Dylan The 1974 Live Recordings. Which, I’ll just remind you in the event you forgot: I wrote the liner notes for.  

“Talking Bob Dylan 1974 Live Recordings Blues” at the Blue Room.

Nashville Skyline before the flood. I just love this dress and any excuse to wear it. For you fashion fans out there, it’s a vintage Courrèges that I got for a song.

That’s all for now. Until next time — if that’s not too optimistic.