Leonard Cohen

It's hard to say why this is so great. Cohen's "singing" is almost as scary as the litany of modern woes he recites, and the music is often an intentionally soulless, vaguely evil boogie. But perfectly realized tracks such as "Anthem" convince you Cohen's a prophet with some genuinely mysterious truths to reveal.

The star procession flowed over a garish red carpet and into the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion
for the 1992 Academy Awards. Amid the swell of celebrated people, Leonard Cohen (who
arrived on the arm of his lover and occasional coarranger, Rebecca De Mornay) went
wholly unnoticed. It suited him fine. Cohen hovers above popular success. He comes and
he goes, from time and from place, like a shadow. Once an isolated romantic wh... More >

Sometime between ages 54 and 58, Cohen appears to have lost his voice. Where once his whisper was the essence of intimacy, now he's singing loud and saying less for longer. Which ends up not mattering because the music is his best since John Lissauer split in 1979. Even the instrumental is satisfying minor Cohen, kind of like the sexy stuff. The political stuff--the horror-stricken "The Future," the hope-stricken "Democracy"--is major. And the eight-minute sendup of Irving Berlin's 10-line "Always" is a pomo triumph: the hoarsely pitchless singing, the soul-on-demand of the backup girls, and the thudding beat are all travesties, all acts of love. At first you think, Sure, Lenny--"Always." Endless love, just your style. But as the minutes wear on you begin to think he may mean it, and then you begin to worry. Holy sh*t--is this old drunk going to be on my case for the rest of his unnatural life? Would he settle for a lost weekend? (Grade - A-)