Photo by Jerry Schatzberg
April 2007
(1)
I’m a big fan of Leonard Cohen, and also of Bob Dylan. These two enthusiasms really shouldn’t be in conflict with each other, but I remember one time when they came dangerously close. I was in a car heading south from Red Deer, Alberta, in October 1993, at the end of a magnificent weekend conference celebrating Leonard’s work, which had been graced by the presence of his back-up vocalist, the transcendent Perla Batalla. Everyone in the car was still riding a Cohen high. Then somebody asked me: “If you were cast away on a desert island, and you could have with you recordings by only one singer, Leonard Cohen or Bob Dylan, which would you choose?” Given the company in the car, there was a very good chance that, if I said Dylan, I would have to walk the rest of the way to Calgary. But I stuck to the honest answer, and said, OK, in that unlikely and unfortunate circumstance, much as I love Leonard, I would have to go with Bob. A shocked silence fell upon this heresy. But at least they stopped short of throwing me out of the car. Bob’s fans probably would have. And it is, after all, an artificial choice. In the real world, it is possible to admire both Dylan and Cohen -- recognizing their obvious differences, even relishing them -- without ever having to make a final decision between them. But the two of them do stand together, alone, above all the other multi-talented singer-songwriters of the late 20th century. No one else could have taken place in that question. Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Richard Thompson, Warren Zevon -- huge talents all. But with Dylan and Cohen, the least you can say, of either one, is that he is the only artist who can seriously be mentioned in the same breath as the other.
(2)
Leonard Cohen has never sung a Bob Dylan song in concert.
Bob Dylan has sung Leonard Cohen just twice: two performances of “Hallelujah” in 1988. The first was in Montreal, July 8th, at the old Forum, temple of ice-hockey lore. I was there. Typically, Bob gave no introduction, no mention of how apposite it was to pay such a tribute to Leonard, here in his home town. I remember recognizing the first lines of the song, and standing up in my seat, and screaming to anyone who could hear me (no one did; it was a loud concert) “This is a Leonard Cohen song!!!”
Here in Montreal.
Hallelujah.
(3)
In 1975, December 4th, Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue played one of its best concerts at the same site, the Forum in Montreal. (This Montreal show is the source for the best circulating recordings of this tour, including those which are preserved in Dylan’s great and under-rated film, Renaldo and Clara.) Leonard Cohen had been present backstage, but (in a rare lapse of judgment) left early. When Dylan stepped up to sing “Isis” (as recorded on film, one of his greatest ever live performances), he stated “This is a song about marriage” -- both Dylan and Cohen were going through marital difficulties at the time -- and then added: “This is for Leonard, if he’s still here.” On the first syllable of “Leonard,” there’s a leap in the voice, an almost exultant exclamation of the name, which transforms this dedication, and this performance of the song, into a fierce joy, a terrifying celebration of the ritual of marriage. Cohen may have gone home to St Urbain St (and how appropriate it is that “street” and “saint” have the same abbreviation), but Leonard, the essential Leonard, was still there.
