What Leonard did for me
Posted: Fri Nov 11, 2016 6:51 pm
On Leonard
I was old enough to appreciate the references in McLean’s “American Pie”, but too young for any personal connection to them. Coming of real age after Woodstock and Vietnam my somehow smaller, less involved generation as young people lived those experiences through older brothers and sisters if we had them. Otherwise we were aware of and maybe felt the upheavals in social conscience and art; we didn’t internalize them. They were ‘events’ of probable historical significance but really, who would know for twenty or thirty years? When we expressed empathy, we usually found acceptance, but those who’d been there didn’t get a lot out of those of us who claimed appreciation, because frankly we didn’t. We were searching for our own identities, and in some ways those kids five years before us had stolen the good, meaningful stuff, everything from the Beatles to protest to jeans and free love. We were, at best, along for the ride; the kid brother in the back seat with a learner’s permit but no car of our own.
Today, November 10, 2016 Leonard Cohen died. Through reading I knew of his slow rise to fame, disappearance from general renown and rebirth in our collective consciences. Had his business manager not robbed him of millions and more or less forced him back on the road he might have gone into another slow fade in many of our minds.
Leonard was cool in a lot of ways. I found him in my early teens, when volumes of his poetry were making the rounds at about the same penetration levels as his early music. He was a richer worded, even less harmonic (!) Rod McKuen, having the advantage of being just outside main stream, giving him the dubious advantage of being less a flavor of the month and more a select, rarer spice with hardcore devotees. His inability to sing turned into an advantage, forcing audiences to listen to his words more than how he delivered them. Yeah, there was a lot of Dylan in that approach, but he just seemed to care less about being hugely popular, or even hugely influential. That’s not a shot at Bob, our newly minted Pulitzer Prize winner, but I found Cohen’s images a little richer, a little funnier. He knew life was serious but not intended to be constantly taken seriously. He talked of all our flaws and made sure you knew he had as many as those listening. His condemnations were less harsh, but still powerful.
There are some artists who transcend generations, letting those of us who weren’t there at the beginning jump onboard, those already on the bus warm and welcoming. And the funny thing about the ones who’d been taken cross-country many times: they didn’t shove that in your face, because Leonard had taught them experiencing the journey, however often you could, was the most important thing. In life, he loved being a passenger as much as the driver or tourguide. But I’m forever grateful he, and those who’d been with him from the start, let me ride along.
I was old enough to appreciate the references in McLean’s “American Pie”, but too young for any personal connection to them. Coming of real age after Woodstock and Vietnam my somehow smaller, less involved generation as young people lived those experiences through older brothers and sisters if we had them. Otherwise we were aware of and maybe felt the upheavals in social conscience and art; we didn’t internalize them. They were ‘events’ of probable historical significance but really, who would know for twenty or thirty years? When we expressed empathy, we usually found acceptance, but those who’d been there didn’t get a lot out of those of us who claimed appreciation, because frankly we didn’t. We were searching for our own identities, and in some ways those kids five years before us had stolen the good, meaningful stuff, everything from the Beatles to protest to jeans and free love. We were, at best, along for the ride; the kid brother in the back seat with a learner’s permit but no car of our own.
Today, November 10, 2016 Leonard Cohen died. Through reading I knew of his slow rise to fame, disappearance from general renown and rebirth in our collective consciences. Had his business manager not robbed him of millions and more or less forced him back on the road he might have gone into another slow fade in many of our minds.
Leonard was cool in a lot of ways. I found him in my early teens, when volumes of his poetry were making the rounds at about the same penetration levels as his early music. He was a richer worded, even less harmonic (!) Rod McKuen, having the advantage of being just outside main stream, giving him the dubious advantage of being less a flavor of the month and more a select, rarer spice with hardcore devotees. His inability to sing turned into an advantage, forcing audiences to listen to his words more than how he delivered them. Yeah, there was a lot of Dylan in that approach, but he just seemed to care less about being hugely popular, or even hugely influential. That’s not a shot at Bob, our newly minted Pulitzer Prize winner, but I found Cohen’s images a little richer, a little funnier. He knew life was serious but not intended to be constantly taken seriously. He talked of all our flaws and made sure you knew he had as many as those listening. His condemnations were less harsh, but still powerful.
There are some artists who transcend generations, letting those of us who weren’t there at the beginning jump onboard, those already on the bus warm and welcoming. And the funny thing about the ones who’d been taken cross-country many times: they didn’t shove that in your face, because Leonard had taught them experiencing the journey, however often you could, was the most important thing. In life, he loved being a passenger as much as the driver or tourguide. But I’m forever grateful he, and those who’d been with him from the start, let me ride along.