Dance me on and on
Leonard Cohen at the Manchester Opera House, Wednesday 18 June, 2008.
Leonard and his band sweep onto the stage, each sporting a dark suit and hat - a more august Blues Brothers. As the music strikes up, Leonard stands before us beaming, his face crinkled with joy. I don’t think I’m alone in having waited for this for a while, the audience are adoring and Dance Me to the End of Love starts the gig.
We’re sitting five or six rows from the front, close enough to see the tailoring on Leonard’s suit. Gripping the mike he crouches in attention over the song, then bends on one knee to woo Javier Mas, his acoustic guitarist. Dino Soldo, later introduced as playing the “instrument of wind”, plays a Klezmer-influenced clarinet solo and Leonard almost seems to drift off. A moment later he’s back, impassioned and dancing us on and on.
Perhaps a touch frail in his suit, Leonard throws himself completely into the music. He looks untouched by plastic surgery, unlike the freakish gargoyle mask of Barry Manilow say, but still handsome for it. Sprightly, full of good humour and spark, his reputation as a poet of gloom sits incongruously on the man in front of us, who seems to be having a thoroughly good time. Throughout the concert he is scrupulously generous in introducing the musicians and giving them the opportunity to show their talents.
Things don’t look quite so bright for us during The Future, when a steward comes to our seats to inform us that we should really be sitting in the gallery rather than at ground level. This means climbing several flights of stairs to sit in some temporary seats, looking down at the top of Leonard’s hat.
We might not have quite such good seats now, but who cares as there still Ain’t No Cure for Love and everybody knows it. The song gives Soldo a chance to give his sax a work out and Neil Larsen punctuates it with his Hammond Organ. As the Sharon Robinson and the two Webb sisters raise their voices, Leonard exclaims “Tell them sisters”.
Leonard Cohen used to say that he was a journalist, reporting from the front line of the erotic battlefield and somehow Bird on a Wire puts me in mind of this. Although this is one of his most allusive songs, tonight it rings clear as a monastery bell. The upbeat cynicism, or rather mordant honesty, of Everybody Knows features the pedal steel guitar. It’s one of my favourite instruments and brings an appropriately Americana feel to a song that reminds us that “Old Black Joe’s still pickin’ cotton/For your ribbons and bows”.
At last, a song from ‘10 New Songs’! Midway through In My Secret Life, after Leonard’s baritone growlings on loss and duplicity Sharon Robinson, who worked on the album, comes in to harmonise perfectly over the top of the darkness. “Hold on, hold on, my brother./ My sister, hold on tight.” she reassures, Leonard responds that he’s “finally got my orders”. He sure has.
Sharon’s gospel stylings set the perfect tone to take us into Who By Fire. Javier Mas, Leonard’s master acoustic guitarist/lutenist, begins the song with some very Spanish sounding guitar. Appropriate as it’s based on the Yom Kippur liturgy as Spain of the Middle Ages hosted a great flourishing of Jewish culture where this prayer must have been heard for countless generations (before being stamped out the inquistion). After Mas has got medieval on our asses the audience go wild.
I can almost hear the crows, the torrential rain and feel the dread in my stomach. Hey, That’s No Way To Say Goodbye is inseparable in my mind with waiting for the inevitable flight home and saying goodbye while sheltering from a deluge. Tonight I can see its landscape refers to a younger Leonard too, but still universal one. Before the next song we’re treated to a few well-chosen words: “Last time I played live I was 60 years old - just a kid with a crazy dream. Since then I’ve taken a lot of Prozac, and…” and he recites a huge list of prescription antidepressant drugs that would put most spam emails to shame. “I’ve studied the religions and philosophies, but cheerfulness kept breaking through.”
On the subject of spiritual matters… Leonard recites the first verse of Anthem: “The birds they sang/at the break of day/Start again/I heard them say/Don’t dwell on what/has passed away/or what is yet to be.” before the song and its rousing chorus brings the first half of the concert to a close.
In the intermission I spot Jeremy Paxman standing sheepishly in the shadows at the end of one of the bar areas. What is it about British media Jeremies and Canadian singer-songwriter types? A few months ago I spotted Jeremy Clarkson next to the bar at a Neil Young gig in Hammersmith Apollo. Should Joni Mitchell ever tour again - look out for Jeremy Irons.
At last we’re sitting in the correct seats as the silly, plinky plonky casio beat of the Tower of Song starts up. “It goes by itself” says Leonard, followed by laughter. He plays a couple of notes, and adds an ironic “you’re too kind”, and more laughter. Now it might be that Mancunians are less respectful of the traditional boundaries between performer and audience, after all one of the most famous heckles in popular musical history happened at Manchester Free Trade Hall, a mile or so from this spot. There a disgruntled folkie shouted at the “traitor” Bob Dylan for going electric. Tonight, when Leonard sings “I’m crazy for love, but I’m not coming on” a woman to our left yells “Oh yes you are!” The song finishes with the backing singers swaying and singing “do dum dum, do dum”. “Don’t stop” says Leonard, “that’s all I want to hear… the key to the mysteries… who would have thought… the meaning of life.” The song winds down to that sensual, feminine sweetness that Leonard has chased for most of his life.
The lights dim to near blackness for the sublime Suzanne played by Leonard on his acoustic guitar, and accompanied by the backing singers and saxophone. Mandolin (or is it Bandurria, Laud or Archi-Laud?) starts an elegiac The Gypsy’s Wife, and the ghosts of Eastern Europe are summoned once more through klezmer clarinet.
“O Crown of Light, O Darkened One,/I never thought we’d meet.” intones Sharon Robinson, her voice husky, thick with gospel devotion before the singer and band join in. If Boogie Street isn’t my Leonard favourite song, it should be and I’m grateful to hear the song live at last. Its solemn depths act as perfect prologue to Hallelujah. The stage is flooded with white light, the (church?) organ soars and the choir - Sharon and the Webb sisters - sock it to us. Leonard stands there with nothing on his lips but Hallelujah - preachin’ his new ole time religion. Professor Dawkins might not like it, but it’s good enough for me.
But this lot aren’t done, a military drum beat starts the march into an epic version of Democracy. I’d not realised what a powerful chorus the song has, “Sail on, sail on”, it’s almost stadium rock. Our female friend to our left shouts out “I wish” after Leonard declares “I’m your man” during a particularly sultry version of the song.
The lights dim once more for Leonard to recite A Thousand Kisses Deep. On the album ‘10 New Songs’ it’s a song, but tonight it’s recited and with different words. In contrast, Take This Waltz is a Frederico Garcia Lorca poem translated and set to music by Leonard. More florid than his own work, the song is suited to a courtly bending of the knee before Javier Mas, coaxing Spanish sounds from the laud. It must be a last waltz; the band leave to a standing ovation.
He’s back - thank goodness, there are a few songs missing. The whole audience sing the chorus of So Long Marianne and clap along to First We Take Manhattan. The band’s rocking, Leonard’s moving to the music then gets down on one knee to woo the audience - thank goodness he can get up again. The backing singers (although, that term really doesn’t do them justice) click fingers and swing, they’re really funking out! The audience laugh at the humour of the lines. Then, they disappear again.
The double bass and laud accompany us to the moonlit tryst with the Sisters of Mercy. A few years back, explains Leonard, “I ran into a some obstacles” and out came this song, though it’s really a prayer. He holds his hat to his chest and recites If It Be Your Will. The Webb sisters then give an impossibly lovely rendition of the piece, so sweet in fact that I can almost smell it - although it may be the woman next to me applying lippy.
Finally, a foot-stomping Closing Time brings the concert to a close. But no! They’re back!Laughing, Leonard introduces I Tried to Leave You before the band skips off again. They return one last time with Famous Blue Raincoat under blue lights, but although the song signs off “Sincerely, L. Cohen” the band gather around their singer for Wither Thou Goest. We all rise to our feet; I’m beaming, whistling, yelling…sore amazed.
Tags: Leonard Cohen Manchester 18 May, Manchester Opera House