London Observer review of DH
Posted: Sun Oct 24, 2004 9:16 pm
Also from Dick:
Pop CD of the week
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Lucky Heather ...
Molloy Woodcraft
Sunday October 24, 2004
The Observer
Leonard Cohen
Dear Heather
(Sony)
There's no such thing as a bad Leonard Cohen album; any self-respecting
subterranean will tell you that. From his 1967 debut they've all been
charmers - made you laugh when you should cry (or vice versa) reflecting
upon the state of the world, and in particular what happens when men and
women rub up against one another, with wry charm.
There are the landmark records, however; many hailed the late entry I'm Your
Man in 1988 - for Cohen's powers of seduction only increased as the years
rolled on and his voice deepened.
The album with which Cohen greets his eighth decade (he is now 70) will be
equally well, if not better, received. For, where 2001's effort never really
emerged from a kind of simmering, sepulchral gloom, the songs all bathed in
shadow, here there is great variety of tone and pace, a sunnier, brighter
quality to the music (partly created by an increase in the female
backing-vocal quotient and some lovely performances by Anjani Thomas and
Leanne Ungar). There's an opening-out of subject matter (Cohen manages to
treat 9/11 subtly in the understated, piano-backed 'On That Day'; includes
an ambivalent dedication to a dead teacher elsewhere), great variety in the
lyrics chosen.
For a start, there are the arrangements of other people's poems. The album
kicks off with a version of Byron's 'Go No More a-Roving'. This is not in
itself a radical departure - Cohen has even translated Lorca in search of a
song. But where the version we all know is brooding and passionate, his
recasting is almost a happy affair, very much in the major key, with cheesy
alto sax courtesy of Bob Sheppard. Cohen swaps vocals with long-term
collaborator and producer Sharon Robinson, and the two come together for a
restatement of the refrain, the whole acquiring an incantatory air; and that
quality surfaces again for the jazzy setting of Frank Scott's 'Villanelle
for Our Time'. In fact, there's a lot of it about. This may be partly to do
with Cohen's years of monkhood. It's also, of course, about the fact that he
is older, his voice now incredibly deep. Rarely does he break into actual
melody; 'Morning Glory' takes the form of a spoken dialogue between two
gruff Cohens, before lush female vocals break in and create a kind of
musical sunrise.
This repetitive, chanting quality also arises from lyrics that are short,
perhaps mere jottings. The title track is only five lines long, a lecherous
yearning for young flesh where Cohen is joined in unison vocals by Anjani
Thomas; they almost sound like robots over a Bontempi organ backing.
Alongside the weirdness, though, are some very strong songs, classic Cohen.
I particularly like the two-way lament of 'The Letters'; and 'Nightingale'
has some fantastic close harmony singing. The record finishes with a
tarted-up live rendition of Redd Stewart and Pee Wee King's country classic
'Tennessee Waltz' from 1985, its sense of loss chiming in some ways with the
Byron of the beginning.
If this is Cohen's last album - and I do hope it isn't - it's a great note
on which to finish. There's no such thing as a bad Leonard Cohen album, but
this one is very good indeed.
· To order Dear Heather for £13.99 with free UK p&p, call the Observer Music
Service on 0870 836 0713
Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2004
Pop CD of the week
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lucky Heather ...
Molloy Woodcraft
Sunday October 24, 2004
The Observer
Leonard Cohen
Dear Heather
(Sony)
There's no such thing as a bad Leonard Cohen album; any self-respecting
subterranean will tell you that. From his 1967 debut they've all been
charmers - made you laugh when you should cry (or vice versa) reflecting
upon the state of the world, and in particular what happens when men and
women rub up against one another, with wry charm.
There are the landmark records, however; many hailed the late entry I'm Your
Man in 1988 - for Cohen's powers of seduction only increased as the years
rolled on and his voice deepened.
The album with which Cohen greets his eighth decade (he is now 70) will be
equally well, if not better, received. For, where 2001's effort never really
emerged from a kind of simmering, sepulchral gloom, the songs all bathed in
shadow, here there is great variety of tone and pace, a sunnier, brighter
quality to the music (partly created by an increase in the female
backing-vocal quotient and some lovely performances by Anjani Thomas and
Leanne Ungar). There's an opening-out of subject matter (Cohen manages to
treat 9/11 subtly in the understated, piano-backed 'On That Day'; includes
an ambivalent dedication to a dead teacher elsewhere), great variety in the
lyrics chosen.
For a start, there are the arrangements of other people's poems. The album
kicks off with a version of Byron's 'Go No More a-Roving'. This is not in
itself a radical departure - Cohen has even translated Lorca in search of a
song. But where the version we all know is brooding and passionate, his
recasting is almost a happy affair, very much in the major key, with cheesy
alto sax courtesy of Bob Sheppard. Cohen swaps vocals with long-term
collaborator and producer Sharon Robinson, and the two come together for a
restatement of the refrain, the whole acquiring an incantatory air; and that
quality surfaces again for the jazzy setting of Frank Scott's 'Villanelle
for Our Time'. In fact, there's a lot of it about. This may be partly to do
with Cohen's years of monkhood. It's also, of course, about the fact that he
is older, his voice now incredibly deep. Rarely does he break into actual
melody; 'Morning Glory' takes the form of a spoken dialogue between two
gruff Cohens, before lush female vocals break in and create a kind of
musical sunrise.
This repetitive, chanting quality also arises from lyrics that are short,
perhaps mere jottings. The title track is only five lines long, a lecherous
yearning for young flesh where Cohen is joined in unison vocals by Anjani
Thomas; they almost sound like robots over a Bontempi organ backing.
Alongside the weirdness, though, are some very strong songs, classic Cohen.
I particularly like the two-way lament of 'The Letters'; and 'Nightingale'
has some fantastic close harmony singing. The record finishes with a
tarted-up live rendition of Redd Stewart and Pee Wee King's country classic
'Tennessee Waltz' from 1985, its sense of loss chiming in some ways with the
Byron of the beginning.
If this is Cohen's last album - and I do hope it isn't - it's a great note
on which to finish. There's no such thing as a bad Leonard Cohen album, but
this one is very good indeed.
· To order Dear Heather for £13.99 with free UK p&p, call the Observer Music
Service on 0870 836 0713
Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2004