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The ticket admonished: "8 p.m. sharp." And at 7:58 last night, the lights inside the Midland dimmed, and a low-voltage current of recorded flamenco music swept six musicians and three singers onto the stage. Then Leonard Cohen bounded out -- bounded, like someone on his way to high-five Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan. The first song: "Dance Me to the End of Love." Mission accomplished.

The 75-year-old poet and songwriter spent three and a half hours (less an intermission) dancing an enraptured crowd to the farthest reaches of ... well, if not love, then whatever it is that animates his graceful ballads of devotion and dissipation. All night he prowled the stage with feline grace -- crouching fast in supplication to his own lyrics, twisting upward on his toes when the beat kicked in, doffing his narrow-brimmed fedora in courtly deference to his backing singers, locking his knees together in mock-Jagger sexual panic. To call him merely spry would do a disservice to senior water-aerobics classes everywhere. What should have looked like Abe Vigoda auditioning for the Backstreet Boys was closer to seeing Michael Jackson moonwalk for the first time. No one who was there will forget it.

​Not that it takes steady kinetic demonstration to sell Cohen's songs, which dance easily from wry biblical allusions to naked propositions and back again, with waltzing pit stops for drinks and blood-in-the-eyes jealousy and thwarted obsession. To long for the spirit is to crave the flesh is to beg forgiveness is to be denied healing. The stillest moment of the night came late, when verses from an early, unrecorded version of his 2001 song "A Thousand Kisses Deep" rumbled from his chest with no accompaniment besides his faded Canadian accent, and no movement in the house except the holding of breath. He earned a laugh at the start with the lines You came to me this morning/And you handled me like meat/You´d have to be a man to know/How good that feels, how sweet.

It would be crude and incorrect to say that a barb like that (axiomatic as it may be) sums up Cohen's late-period worldview, but the set gave more than fair voice to the most poetic -- and most jaundiced -- of these newer songs. There and with "In My Secret Life" and "Boogie Street" (frequent Cohen songwriting partner Sharon Robinson sang the latter last night), the simmering carnal regret (and fresh longing) of his early songs settled into the dusty landscape of 1992's apocalyptic The Future, represented at the Midland by the title song, "Anthem," a sprint-paced "Closing Time" and the heartbreaking epic of romantic entropy "Waiting for the Miracle." Taken together, the post-1992 material adds up to a kind of sex manual for the end of days.

The only problem last night wasn't onstage -- and it was less a problem than a sometimes aggravating curiosity. Especially in the show's first half, a few people on the floor at the Midland greeted a surprising assortment of lines in Cohen's songs with arena-style cheers, little viral ululations signaling approval without much attention to, you know, context.

Well, sure -- you wait a lifetime for the man's first-ever appearance in Kansas City, and you might blow up a little when he finally, finally, finally sings ... I know what is wrong and what is right (from "In My Secret Life")? Really? Old black Joe still picking cotton for your ribbons and bows ("Everybody Knows")? Hmm. Even the scream for We are ugly but we have the music from "Chelsea Hotel #2" rang a little false; what, Leonard Cohen is emo now?

Things calmed down some during the second half, when the downstairs bar closed and the first balcony ran out of red wine (I'm told). In the interest of participation, however belated, here are a couple of lines I would totally have gunned it for if I were into letting the people sitting around me at concerts know that my ticket is more important than their ticket: I tuned the old banjo ("Boogie Street") -- OWWW! YEAH! She sends her regards ("Famous Blue Raincoat") -- WOO! REGARDS! Let your mercy spill ("If It Be Your Will") -- DAMN, LEN! SPILL!

At the core of the note-perfect band were guitarist Bob Metzger and bass player (and bandleader) Roscoe Beck. Both have worked with Cohen for decades on and off the road. (Our sister paper in Dallas interviewed Beck not long ago.) No less crucial was Javier Mas, who deployed a caravan of exotic stringed instruments to deepen the textures of every song he played on. (Cohen discovered Mas after the Spaniard contributed to a Cohen tribute album in his home country.) Dino Soldo blew a variety of wind instruments but might have made his most lasting impression with a couple of unexpected virtuoso turns on chromatic harmonica. Appropriately for much of the set, keyboard player Neil Larsen found nagging martial chords and David Lynchian hums for songs like "Everybody Knows" and "First We Take Manhattan." He shone whenever he drove his Hammond B3 to the dark end of the street, as during the startling "Hallelujah."

When Cohen emerged for the night's second half, standing at a small keyboard ("I don't want to alarm you, but I'm going to fire this up," he said before starting "Tower of Song." "This thing plays by itself"), he told the audience, "Thank you so much for not going home." No, Leonard Cohen. Thank you for not staying home.

Setlist
​
"Dance Me to the End of Love"
"The Future"
"Ain't No Cure for Love"
"Bird on the Wire"
"Everybody Knows"
"In My Secret Life"
"Who By Fire"
"Chelsea Hotel #2"
"Waiting for the Miracle"
"Anthem"

Intermission

"Tower of Song"
"Suzanne"
"Sisters of Mercy"
"The Gypsy's Wife"
"That Other Blues Song"
"The Partisan"
"Boogie Street"
"Hallelujah"
"I'm Your Man"
"A Thousand Kisses Deep" (recited)
"Take This Waltz"

Encores:
"So Long, Marianne"
"First We Take Manhattan"
"Famous Blue Raincoat"
"If It Be Your Will"
"Closing Time"
"I Tried to Leave You"

The 75-year-old poet and songwriter spent three and a half hours (less an intermission) dancing an enraptured crowd to the farthest reaches of ... well, if not love, then whatever it is that animates his graceful ballads of devotion and dissipation. All night he prowled the stage with feline grace -- crouching fast in supplication to his own lyrics, twisting upward on his toes when the beat kicked in, doffing his narrow-brimmed fedora in courtly deference to his backing singers, locking his knees together in mock-Jagger sexual panic. To call him merely spry would do a disservice to senior water-aerobics classes everywhere. What should have looked like Abe Vigoda auditioning for the Backstreet Boys was closer to seeing Michael Jackson moonwalk for the first time. No one who was there will forget it.

Things calmed down some during the second half, when the downstairs bar closed and the first balcony ran out of red wine (I'm told). In the interest of participation, however belated, here are a couple of lines I would totally have gunned it for if I were into letting the people sitting around me at concerts know that my ticket is more important than their ticket: I tuned the old banjo ("Boogie Street") -- OWWW! YEAH! She sends her regards ("Famous Blue Raincoat") -- WOO! REGARDS! Let your mercy spill ("If It Be Your Will") -- DAMN, LEN! SPILL!

November 10, 2009

Review: Leonard Cohen




Photos by Chris Oberholtz/The Star

Like some upper-level graduate course, this show came with some prerequisites: You needed to know the music of Leonard Cohen, and the more intimately the better. You also needed to appreciate his singing voice, which, these days, comes from somewhere between Barry Whites' and a lighter shade of Darth Vader's.

Monday night as the clock struck 8 p.m., Cohen skipped onto the stage of the Midland theater in the wake of the band of backup singers and musicians who nearly stole his own show from him. He would tip his hat a few dozen times and deliver 27 songs, a few dozen thank-yous, one hallelujah, a few droll wisecracks and a reading of one of his own poems that aroused one of the spine-tingliest moments of the year.

Cohen is 75, but he sang with equal sincerity and indifference about love and sodomy, war and transcendence, life and death. And for most of a show that lasted almost three hours (plus a 30 minute intermission), he kept his sold-out crowd enraptured. It was his first show ever in Kansas City; and many in the place were seeing someone they'd been listening to for decades and only dreamed of seeing live. He gave them plenty to rave about, including a six-song encore.

There is much to write about, starting with the performance of his outstanding band and background singers. All night they artfully colored, embroidered and adorned his songs and embellished his vocals, especially Javier Mas on bandurria, 12-string acoustic guitar (and others), Dino Soldo, on sax, clarinet (and others) and Neil Larsen on keyboards and Hammond B3 (his solo during "Hallelujah" was divine).

He brought a drummer, Rafael Gayol, but the way the sound was mixed, he was almost parenthetical -- way in the back, literally and figuratively, gently keeping time. The vocals, however, were another thing. The three singers to his right weren't exactly background singers; they were front and center and they carried equal weight for many songs. He gave them their own solo moments: Sharon Robinson on "Boogie Street," which gave the song an Everything But the Girl vibe; and the Webb sisters on "If It Be Your Will."

The mood all night was organic and loose -- not free-wheeling, but unbuttoned. At times the show took on a cabaret or Kurt Weill vibe.

The crowd made noise a few times, mostly when Cohen sang a line that resonated and prompted some whoops and applause, like "I was born with the gift of a golden voice," during "Tower of Song," "There's not much entertainment / And the critics are severe," during "Waiting for the Miracle," and "There is a crack in everything / that's how the light gets in," during "Anthem."

His audience remained in a suspended state of reverence and glee all night. He repaid them with humility, gratitude and humor. By night's end, he'd introduced his band at least twice and thanked his lighting director.

Before "Chelsea Hotel #2," he told a story about escaping to Miami 40 years ago: "I was taking a vacation from deep authenticity," he deadpanned. During "The Future," he altered the lyrics to "There'll be fires on the road / and white girls dancing." As he sang the line, the Webb sisters took a step back and executed perfect synchronized cartwheels. And during "Hallelujah," he added some local flavor to a lyric: "I didn't come to the Midland theater to fool you ..."

I suppose some moments were better than others, but this show was a lot like the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss "Raising Sand" show out at Starlight last year: relentless in how good it was. You could argue that the second (and longer) half was more powerful than the first, but that verges on hair-splitting and nit-picking.

One of the finer moments was Cohen's stunning recitation of "A Thousand Deep Kisses," which brought the house to a spell-bound silence as he delivered lines like: "I loved you when you opened / Like a lily to the heat / You see I’m just another snowman / Standing in the rain and sleet ..."

Many singers have covered his songs, but last night Cohen reclaimed all of them, including "Hallelujah," most of which he performed on his knees. He also took back "Suzanne" and during his gorgeous altered version of "Bird on the Wire," he sounded like a guy delivering the definitive cover version of his own song.

He gave us a new song, one that's (apparently) titled "The Other Blues Song" (or "Feels So Good"). It's a song about emerging from heartache, about feeling better about loving someone less. The crowd applauded several lines that everyone related to, especially: "I feel like they tore away my blindfold and said, 'We're gonna let this prisoner live' ..."

You could say his best songs do the same thing: liberate his listeners by letting them perceive new truths, by unbinding blindfolds and letting in the light.

| Timothy Finn, The Star

Setlist: Dance Me to the End of Love; The Future; Ain't No Cure for Love; Bird on the Wire; Everybody Knows; In My Secret Life; Who By Fire; Chelsea Hotel #2; Waiting for the Miracle; Anthem. Intermission. Tower of Song; Suzanne; Sisters of Mercy; The Gypsy's Wife; The Other Blues Song (Feels So Good); The Partisan; Boogie Street; Hallelujah; I'm Your Man; A Thousand Kisses Deep; Take This Waltz. Encores: So Long, Marianne; First We Take Manhattan; Famous Blue Raincoat; If It Be Your Will; Closing Time; I Tried to Leave You.

Posted at 07:22 AM | Permalink

sturgess66 wrote:

To call him merely spry would do a disservice to senior water-aerobics classes everywhere. What should have looked like Abe Vigoda auditioning for the Backstreet Boys was closer to seeing Michael Jackson moonwalk for the first time. No one who was there will forget it.

LisaLCFan wrote:Thanks so much, bridger15, for capturing Leonard's hilarious intro to Chelsea Hotel #2! I'm still laughing!

sue7 wrote:http://blogs.pitch.com/wayward/2009/11/ ... ohen_a.php

Concert Review: Leonard Cohen at the Midland
By Scott Wilson in Last Night's Show
Tue., Nov. 10 2009 @ 12:55PM

Dino Soldo blew a variety of wind instruments but might have made his most lasting impression with a couple of unexpected virtuoso turns on chromatic harmonica. Appropriately for much of the set, keyboard player Neil Larsen found nagging martial chords and David Lynchian hums for songs like "Everybody Knows" and "First We Take Manhattan." He shone whenever he drove his Hammond B3 to the dark end of the street, as during the startling "Hallelujah."

KaimiK wrote: We're flying home tomorrow, so I'll post some pics and video when I get home.

bridger15 wrote:Our most enthusiastic Forum Cohenite was Kelsey (KaimiK) who was super excited and glowing the whole time. It was most enjoyable to watch her.