Scotsman review
Posted: Wed Nov 10, 2004 6:50 pm
Another one from Marie. Note the last paragraph 
Scotsman.com
October 29, 2004
http://news.scotsman.com/features.cfm?id=1248912004
Man of letters still embraces the write stuff
Fiona Shepherd
LEONARD COHEN: DEAR HEATHER ***
COLUMBIA, £13.99
LAUGHING Leonard Cohen turned 70 last month. Surely only jazz musicians live and work that long? Having first established himself as a poet, Cohen was a late bl oomer in the musical realm, and has never been the most prolific of songwriters - Dear Heather is only his 11th studio album in 37 years - but right now his reputation looks as unsinkable as Johnny Cash’s. Hallelujah, to take just one example from his back catalogue, is better loved now than ever.
But, unlike Cash, who arguably saved his best work for last, Cohen has never bettered, or even equalled, the songs by his younger self. With recent releases, he has been criticised for his flaccid musical direction and Dear Heather begins with both the sublime and the ridiculous. Go No More A-Roving is a smoochy soul arrangement of a Byron poem, complete with languid sax, "sung" by Cohen so down in his boots he is practically subsonic, and so husky he makes Tom Waits sound like Aled Jones. Sadly, the polished 1980s treatment does the beautiful words a disservice. However, the poem - about the loss of passion in the twilight years - is a judicious choice, as it introduces a theme which Cohen takes up in the first of his self-penned lyrics.
Because Of is soulful in spirit rather than genre. It is the septuagenarian Cohen’s tribute "to all the girls I’ve loved before". "Because of a few songs/wherein I spoke of their mystery/women have been exceptionally kind to my old age" he drawls with eloquent economy. As usual, he has drafted in a couple of "angels" - female singers who provide mellifluous vocal contrast to his tobacco-tarred larynx and, in many cases, supply the only semblance of a tune.
No matter - with Cohen, it will always be about the lyrics. Most of the tracks here are musically understated but lyrically resonant. Some are little more than sketches, but they are marvellous in their simplicity, making their point with a few deft brushstrokes.
The title track is a mere five-line digest ("Dear Heather/please walk by me again/with a drink in your hand/and your legs all white/from the winter") repeated catatonically over a loping track reminiscent of a silent movie soundtrack or end-of-pier organ. Sometimes Cohen literally spells out the words; as for the meaning, he leaves enough space for the listener to fill out their own picture.
More than past albums, Dear Heather feels like a collection of poetry and prose set to music rather than a batch of new songs. He dedicates some of the tracks to fellow Canadian poets and, in addition to the adaptation of the Byron poem, recites Frank Scott’s Villanelle For Our Time over a subtle jazz piano backing. He has the kind of resounding, portentous voice ideal for narrating horror fiction, but the poem is in classic hope-from-adversity mode, and makes for an inspiring response to the preceding track, On That Day, Cohen’s touching, inquiring hymn about "that day they wounded New York".
The Letters feels like an exquisite short story adapted into a less compelling song, taking the form of a leisurely but rueful conversation between the sanguine Cohen and Sharon Robinson, whose creamy contralto also featured on 2001’s Ten New Songs.
His other vocal foil is Anjani Thomas, who has been working with him since the mid-80s, but now becomes a full-blown collaborator, where her expressive country-tinged voice leavens numerous tracks. Morning Glory sets its scene with lounge jazz ambience and Cohen intoning like the badass anti-hero of a film noir, but it concludes with Thomas’s pure vocal intervention, floating over the top and providing the kind of redemptive bliss which Julee Cruise gave to David Lynch’s Twin Peaks.
She carries Cohen through the blithe Nightingale, a Dolly Partonesque country lament for times past. He is not exactly sentimental in his old age, but Cohen is in reflective mood throughout. "I see my life in full review," he broods at one point. Some have suggested that Dear Heather is a winding down of affairs, but it seems unlikely that Cohen will hang up his pen when he is clearly still such a fertile wordsmith.
Incidentally, the website for the album is available in 13 languages, including Serbian and Lithuanian. Appropriate for an album for people who love language, rather than music.
Scotsman.com
October 29, 2004
http://news.scotsman.com/features.cfm?id=1248912004
Man of letters still embraces the write stuff
Fiona Shepherd
LEONARD COHEN: DEAR HEATHER ***
COLUMBIA, £13.99
LAUGHING Leonard Cohen turned 70 last month. Surely only jazz musicians live and work that long? Having first established himself as a poet, Cohen was a late bl oomer in the musical realm, and has never been the most prolific of songwriters - Dear Heather is only his 11th studio album in 37 years - but right now his reputation looks as unsinkable as Johnny Cash’s. Hallelujah, to take just one example from his back catalogue, is better loved now than ever.
But, unlike Cash, who arguably saved his best work for last, Cohen has never bettered, or even equalled, the songs by his younger self. With recent releases, he has been criticised for his flaccid musical direction and Dear Heather begins with both the sublime and the ridiculous. Go No More A-Roving is a smoochy soul arrangement of a Byron poem, complete with languid sax, "sung" by Cohen so down in his boots he is practically subsonic, and so husky he makes Tom Waits sound like Aled Jones. Sadly, the polished 1980s treatment does the beautiful words a disservice. However, the poem - about the loss of passion in the twilight years - is a judicious choice, as it introduces a theme which Cohen takes up in the first of his self-penned lyrics.
Because Of is soulful in spirit rather than genre. It is the septuagenarian Cohen’s tribute "to all the girls I’ve loved before". "Because of a few songs/wherein I spoke of their mystery/women have been exceptionally kind to my old age" he drawls with eloquent economy. As usual, he has drafted in a couple of "angels" - female singers who provide mellifluous vocal contrast to his tobacco-tarred larynx and, in many cases, supply the only semblance of a tune.
No matter - with Cohen, it will always be about the lyrics. Most of the tracks here are musically understated but lyrically resonant. Some are little more than sketches, but they are marvellous in their simplicity, making their point with a few deft brushstrokes.
The title track is a mere five-line digest ("Dear Heather/please walk by me again/with a drink in your hand/and your legs all white/from the winter") repeated catatonically over a loping track reminiscent of a silent movie soundtrack or end-of-pier organ. Sometimes Cohen literally spells out the words; as for the meaning, he leaves enough space for the listener to fill out their own picture.
More than past albums, Dear Heather feels like a collection of poetry and prose set to music rather than a batch of new songs. He dedicates some of the tracks to fellow Canadian poets and, in addition to the adaptation of the Byron poem, recites Frank Scott’s Villanelle For Our Time over a subtle jazz piano backing. He has the kind of resounding, portentous voice ideal for narrating horror fiction, but the poem is in classic hope-from-adversity mode, and makes for an inspiring response to the preceding track, On That Day, Cohen’s touching, inquiring hymn about "that day they wounded New York".
The Letters feels like an exquisite short story adapted into a less compelling song, taking the form of a leisurely but rueful conversation between the sanguine Cohen and Sharon Robinson, whose creamy contralto also featured on 2001’s Ten New Songs.
His other vocal foil is Anjani Thomas, who has been working with him since the mid-80s, but now becomes a full-blown collaborator, where her expressive country-tinged voice leavens numerous tracks. Morning Glory sets its scene with lounge jazz ambience and Cohen intoning like the badass anti-hero of a film noir, but it concludes with Thomas’s pure vocal intervention, floating over the top and providing the kind of redemptive bliss which Julee Cruise gave to David Lynch’s Twin Peaks.
She carries Cohen through the blithe Nightingale, a Dolly Partonesque country lament for times past. He is not exactly sentimental in his old age, but Cohen is in reflective mood throughout. "I see my life in full review," he broods at one point. Some have suggested that Dear Heather is a winding down of affairs, but it seems unlikely that Cohen will hang up his pen when he is clearly still such a fertile wordsmith.
Incidentally, the website for the album is available in 13 languages, including Serbian and Lithuanian. Appropriate for an album for people who love language, rather than music.
