Leonard Cohen – Live @ The Palace Theatre

Concert Reviews • Friday November 6th, 2009 • 1:47 pm

Leonard Cohen’s live presence was captured magnificently on his Live in London 2-disc set. As for me, I figured that would be the closest I’d ever get to the legendary 74-year-old on stage. However, on a Monday evening in late October, I didn’t have to sit next to my CD player to experience Cohen, but instead found myself five rows from the stage in a seat marked “E.”

Dressed like detectives from a noir film, fedoras adorned nearly every member of his nine piece band as they took to their places on the small stage. Dressed like his band mates in a matching fedora, Cohen took to the stage and wooed the audience immediately by singing from his knees – an act of adoration to his audience and band.

Above him the stage curtains rose high into the recesses of the ceiling, hanging long at the sides and rising like columned buttresses of a church, they opened the space above his band. The curtains draped tall like skyscrapers and enveloped his music in the small space, opening up head room for his music to rise into the heavens without any obstacle of light fixtures or unnecessary stage pyrotechnics. This economic stage layout brought all of our attention solely on Cohen and the proceedings surrounding him.

Cohen spoke of the sanctity of song throughout the night. While singing, Cohen would “swear by this song” as opposed to his family or God. It is this notion that “the song” is the embodiment of his works, all of the trials and efforts, and with this he seemed to be a prophet of the song, a vessel to channel as well as he could to his audience the power of “the song.” This sacrament came halfway through his set as he performed one of the greatest pieces in pop music history. With his gravelly voice that has grown better with age, he eloquently sang/spoke a prologue of a few lines from his song “Hallelujah” before the band followed suit.

“Hallelujah” is probably his most popular and commonly covered song of a vast catalog. Over 20 artists have interpreted “Hallelujah” and Cohen has almost become forgotten in the haze of his own reinventions. Jeff Buckley, Rufus Wainwright, John Cale are a few of the artists that immediately come to mind when recognized for the brilliance of “Hallelujah,” sadly more often than not listeners can be hard pressed to tell you who originally composed and wrote the tune.

This is especially troubling when Leonard Cohen’s rendition probably captures the multiple themes and depth better than any other artist. More importantly Cohen’s live performance brings attention to the dichotomy and precious juxtaposition of moods and feelings better than any of his predecessors. “I think it’s a good song, but I think too many people sing it,” Cohen has remarked – and what better way to signify this statement than to perform it with so much wit and sincerity to shadow all his followers attempts.

“Hallelujah” seems to stand as a conundrum of interpretations from so many different performers – sometimes the song has taken on a naive stance (i.e. Alexandra Burke), other times a simple composition of praise. But I think that is where they got it all wrong. Monday night, Cohen’s original intentions for “Hallelujah” were laid bare for all in the audience to witness. It’s a song of twists and turns, questions are left unanswered and uncertainty is the only guiding light. Cohen’s refrain of “Hallelujah” was choked up, almost coughed out barely audible over the trio of his choir like backing vocals. From his knees to his feet and with fist clenched at times, Cohen’s tone and delivery only emphasize the drama and contradiction the realistic nature of the lines share against the idealistic, almost zealous chorus.

Line after line there is a cynicism that grows while being cut back by the returning chorus of supposed praise – a praise that is both stoic and stubborn but also meek and skeptical. Choosing to highlight the performance of “Hallelujah” from Cohen’s three hour set is also important because the accompaniment plays an important role in the night’s odd juxtapositions; especially in regards to “Hallelujah”. Cohen gave attention to nearly every album from his 35+ years of output (other than his Death of a Ladies Man from 1977), and by doing so his nine-piece band of very competent players had to reinterpret the songs from five decades of material.

Like the night’s performances of “I’m Your Man”, “First We Take Manhattan” and “Tower of Song”, “Hallelujah”’s instrumentation stayed close to the original arrangement from the ’80s. With a touch of lounge and a spice of casiotone many of the songs from his ’80s and ’90s releases have a sprinkle of tongue and cheek irony/kitsch. “Hallelujah” is a perfect example of this type of modesty; Cohen’s intentions to not take himself too seriously are abundant in the music of the tune.

His sense of humor has been in good form this past year of touring, and you see it in songs like “Tower of Song” and “Everybody Knows,” where the delivery is unforgettable. “I Tried to Leave You” was given a new skin (or “mask” in the words of Cohen) during his encore. Each line was directed to his audience in a sly manner like that of a parent to their young son on the first day of kindergarten.

The night had many moments in which Cohen humbly grew second to his songs. “The Partisan” and “Who by Fire” were two sobering moments in the concert that his backing musicians created a stark moody backdrop for his naked lyrics to still command the same power they did 35-plus years ago. Rafael Bernando Gayol from Barcelona was one of the standout musicians of the night embellishing most of the songs with washes of his 12-string guitar playing, accompanying Cohen on his uplifting yet somber rendition of “Suzanne” from his debut.

But the night wasn’t all melodramatic and taxing on the soul. After more than 40 years in the spotlight, Cohen is still a true showman, pacing his music and crowd participation. After a few songs that made me feel like I was alone, one on one with him; Cohen could put on his charm and engender a rowdy crowd with tales of one night stands and anarchist overthrows. His stage presence would provoke the audience into cheering, whistling and standing ovations and all the while he was still a prisoner of “the song.” At the end of each set, he would prance off the stage into the dark and it would seem he wasn’t captive to the chains of his song anymore or until the next time he would be in front of his patient audience.

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