>I have funny, mixed reactions to Cohen. I had never heard of him when
>several years ago I first heard a beautiful song on the radio and
>scribbled down the name and performer -- "Leonard Cohen, Various
>Positions". I never found it in a record store though (not available
  Thank you for this interesting posting. Since we're just a small bunch,
I'd like to know how you people came to qualify for membership in the LC list.
As for me, I first heard Suzanne in the late sixties, and was strangely
captivated. I recall one night in particular, in late summer, when I was
sitting with some friends in a patio, with his first album spinning on
the record player. "I'm just some Joseph looking for a manger." For some
reason I couldn't hear enough of this. I've mostly kept up with his records,
but not in any fanatical or completist spirit: the last one I thoroughly
enjoyed was the humming bird record, i.e. Recent Songs.

This started as a response to dasmah@max.sunysb.edu's postings about
Cohen poems and then wandered all over the place ...


Oh, those sound like good poems. I have a copy of "Selected Poems"
I checked out of the library. If no one else does, I can look through
it and post something (but I bet someone else will). I haven't read it
yet.


Someone said that the poetry book "The Energy of Slaves" was too scatological
for his tastes. I don't know if scatological is the word, but I agree
it's mostly too crude for mine.


I have funny, mixed reactions to Cohen. I had never heard of him when
several years ago I first heard a beautiful song on the radio and
scribbled down the name and performer -- "Leonard Cohen, Various
Positions". I never found it in a record store though (not available
in the States, I now know). Then I forgot about it unti I saw the
movie _Pump Up the Volume_ a couple of months ago. I loved two songs
in it and looked for them in the credits -- "If it Be Thy Will" and
"Everybody Knows" by Leonard Cohen. Then I posted to the net to ask
about him, and thence, eventually, came this list!


Anyway, I bought "I'm Your Man" and (it took a few listens but) I came
to appreciate and enjoy all the moods on it -- from the driving
fatalism of "Everybody Knows" to the lyrical poetry of "Take This
Waltz" and everything in between. When I learned that Cohen also
wrote the hauntingly beautiful "Suzanne" and "Hey, That's No Way to
Say Goodbye", I said "This is an artist for me!" I thought he pegged
the emotions I really am drawn to -- cynicism and romanticism,
wildness, and a little acceptance and resignation.


Then when I read more of what Cohen had to say I was really kind of taken
aback and disapppointed. For example, the liner notes on "Hey, That's No
Way to Say Goodbye" say simply "This song arises from an over-used bed in
the Penn Terminal Hotel in 1966. The room is too hot. I can't open the
windows. I am in the midst of a bitter quarrel with a blonde woman (etc)".
What happened to the haunting romantic yearning of two lovers parted by
fate that the song seems to tell of? What do they have to do with quarrels
and "overused beds" in hotels? If he hadn't WRITTEN the song, I'd say
he didn't understand what it was about (but I can't say that, can I :-)? ).


Similarly, when I looked at the poems in "The Energy of Slaves", the
finer sentiments seem to be absent and there is some real crudeness
there that turns me off, especially as a woman, like the one that goes
(profanity warning):


when I speak to two girls on yet another night
The one cunt sunk like an imperial bathtub
in my slippery conversation
and the other an endless tribute to Helen Keller.


Seeing women casually called "cunts" takes something away from my
identification with the poet, sigh. Anyway, I'm really rambling. But
I've had these two reactions to Cohen. Enchanted and repelled.


By the way, although "The Energy of Slaves" is mostly crude and bitter
(and I have to admit I'm not connoisseur of poetry and probably don't
"get" most of it), the few poems I've taken to so far are short and
cynical, like I like this one:


the 15-year-old girls
I wanted when I was 15
I have them now
it is very pleasant
it is never too late
I advise you all
to become rich and famous.


This one is both poignant, which I like, and also kind of surprisingly
but humorously blunt:


Whenever I happen to see you
I forget for a while
that I am ugly in my own eyes
for not winning you


I wanted you to choose me
over all the men you know
  because I am destroyed
in their company


I have often prayed for you
like this
  Let me have her.




I like this little squib, too (an excerpt):


Do you like this song?
I wrote it in a mood
that would never
be seen dead in.


I've felt like that.


Well, this is long and rambling! I guess I'll close for now.
Just wait till I get my thoughts on "Famous Blue Raincoat" together :-).

>  Someone said that the poetry book "The Energy of Slaves" was too
scatological
>  for his tastes. I don't know if scatological is the word, but I agree
>  it's mostly too crude for mine.
> ...
>  Then when I read more of what Cohen had to say I was really kind of taken
>  aback and disapppointed. For example, the liner notes on "Hey, That's No
>  Way to Say Goodbye" say simply "This song arises from an over-used bed in
>  the Penn Terminal Hotel in 1966. The room is too hot. I can't open the
>  windows. I am in the midst of a bitter quarrel with a blonde woman (etc)".
>  What happened to the haunting romantic yearning of two lovers parted by
>  fate that the song seems to tell of? What do they have to do with quarrels
>  and "overused beds" in hotels? If he hadn't WRITTEN the song, I'd say
>  he didn't understand what it was about (but I can't say that, can I :-)? ).
A large part of my attraction to Cohen is the many levels of human
experience that are the apparent basis of his work and his life--the
primitive, the spiritual, the animal, the sensual, the mental. I
don't think you can separate these different aspects and selects the
ones that please; well, you can, but you would then end up with a
distortion of the man's life and contributions.


I believe that Cohen experiences the events he writes about
simultaneously on these multiple levels. Another example would be
"Sisters of Mercy," an artistic gem with a theme of unselfish
consolation in a time of mental anguish. Over the years, Cohen's
explanations have varied from this focus to an introduction
that the song was motivated by an experience with two girls who
"said they had introduced the miniskirt to Edmonton" and "treated
[him] very well." Another introduction included the information
that the two fell asleep in each other's arms while Cohen wrote
by moonlight. I really think that all of these explanations are
about the same actual incident, that Cohen was involved and affected
in these multiple ways.


An artist who can bind these different aspects of human existence
in such meaningful and poetic ways is a unique treasure.

>    Thank you for this interesting posting. Since we're just a small bunch,
>  I'd like to know how you people came to qualify for membership in the LC
list.
>  As for me, I first heard Suzanne in the late sixties, and was strangely
>  captivated. I recall one night in particular, in late summer, when I was
>  sitting with some friends in a patio, with his first album spinning on
>  the record player. "I'm just some Joseph looking for a manger." For some
>  reason I couldn't hear enough of this...
An older friend lent me Cohen's first album when I was in high school,
around 1971. I took an immediate liking to it and purchased _Songs
>From a Room_ and, when it came out, _Songs of Love and Hate_. I also
bought a couple of books of his poetry and his two novels, _Beautiful
Losers_ and _The Favorite Game_. I remember reading _Beautiful
Losers_ while working in a convenience store (small market) after
school. It's a pretty amazing work. In an effort to hold my
attention for an hour or so, my twelfth-grade English teacher got a
film that the CBC had made. I think the title was "Ladies and
Gentlemen, Mr. Leonard Cohen," or something like that.


The first time Cohen did a concert that I was aware of was in Feb.
1975, when he played Symphony Hall in Boston. I also saw him in
1985 and 1988. He doesn't play the U.S. too often.