Carlo Wolff » Celebrity

Leonard Cohen: in the zone

Carlo — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 17:52:17 +0000

The cover of Cohen's newest live disk.

Weird to think of “Leonard Cohen Live in London” alongside “Allman Brothers at Fillmore East,” but both are paradigms of the live album, capturing artists at the peak of their powers. Cohen’s was recorded in 2008 when he was 73, near the start of his nearly two-year-long tour; the American leg this fall was his first U.S. go-round in 15 years. Recorded with startling and warm fidelity, this set lasts more than three hours, covers the Canadian poet’s repertoire dating to the mid-‘60s, and finds the man in glorious instrumental company. Sharon Robinson, his long-time collaborator, shines on “Boogie Street” and Cohen turns “Democracy” and “First We Take Manhattan” into dark disco anthems, also investing such chestnuts as “So Long, Marianne” and the ravishing “Suzanne” with vigorous, autumnal color. Over the years, Cohen’s voice, which early in his singular career was so affectless he couldn’t convey the full import of his words, has become a deeply expressive baritone, and his lyrics, which dwell on sin and salvation, paradise and Armageddon, have become ever more meaningful. At 75, Cohen, that stylish mystic, is in the zone, the Clint Eastwood of rock ‘n’ roll.

For more Leonard Cohen music, click here.

Audio CD (March 31, 2009)
Original Release Date: March 31, 2009
Number of Discs: 2
Format: Live
Label: Sony
ASIN: B001RTP3YQ

Jewish music

Carlo — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 15:10:44 +0000

I keep running into other lucky ones who attended the Leonard Cohen concert at the Allen Theatre in Cleveland Oct. 25; we all stand in awe (here’s my preview). In more than three hours, Cohen and his amazing troupe of cosmic musicians rekindled my belief, that I’d thought retro, in pop as conveyor of truth. Not that Cohen was dour; far from it. He skipped, he bowed—often beginning his songs as a supplicant, he as frequently ended them a cocky commander—he clearly enjoyed himself. And the songs—“So Long, Marianne,” “Suzanne” (done sturdy and dark), “First We Take Manhattan” (this coulda been a disco hit), the stunning “Waiting for a Miracle”—are among the best.

Leonard Cohen: The mystic as fashion plate.

Cohen’s was one of two concerts (here’s John Soeder’s spot-on review from the Plain Dealer) I saw in the last week by Jewish musicians. Cohen’s was one of the best I’ve ever seen, and that covers hundreds of shows.

The other was by Sophie Milman, a 26-year-old Russian Jew who grew up in Israel and now lives in Toronto. A tiny blonde bombshell whose contralto-alto embodies the airy and the husky, she’s a true torch singer. Milman fronts an excellent band (Diego Rivera stood out on sax), scats like Sarah, and takes over Joni Mitchell’s “Be Cool” for her own smoldering purposes. (Here’s my preview from Cleveland Jewish News). The hottest Canadian import since Diana Krall, Milman is set to explode. Some paintings fell off the wall of Nighttown during her first set; might that have been a sign?

This pictures Sophie's newest disk.

Remembering the latest king

Carlo — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 14:40:49 +0000

When I called Michael Jackson a has-been on my Facebook page, some people were pissed. All I meant was that since the mid-’90s, the most interesting thing about Jackson, who died June 25, was his dysfunction. Weird-looking, for sure; mysterious and shape-shifting psychologically and otherwise. The child molestation charges he was cleared of, the marriages that didn’t work, the kids in the shadows, the hassles with his family are what grabbed us from the mid-‘90s on more than his music, though that lasts, and the best of it is as good as pop gets.

It seems that when you call an icon a has-been—you could argue that that was true of Elvis after his initial burst in the mid-‘50s, and of the solo careers of Beatles Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and, particularly, the lightweight, charming Ringo—you threaten people’s memories. I remember dancing to Michael Jackson; how couldn’t you? I remember being a kid intoxicated by Elvis, and as a young man dancing and romancing to the Beatles. I even recall being moved by U2, whose inspirations have seemed largely formulaic for the past 15 years. Just because a band is still commercial doesn’t make it creative.

Michael Jackson will rule the news for about a week—tomorrow’s papers are sure to feature lengthy, heady editorial about his meaning—and then return to the tabloids, his natural home these past 15-plus years. Now, when I think of him, I think of his genius, his moves, his singular spirit. Too bad that’s clouded by the soap opera he generated that defined, and then ended, his life.