MUSIC

Leonard Cohen remindsus why he still mattersBy Joshua KleinSPECIAL TO THE TRIBUNE

NEW YORK—Montrealbard Leonard Cohen haswritten and recorded manygreat songs, and influencedmany times that number ofpeers and followers with hisspiritual, morose and occa-sionally carnal poetry andmusic.

But lately one song towersover the rest of Cohen's con-siderable oeuvre, and that's"Hallelujah." It has beencovered countless times bythe likas of Bob Dylan, Bono,John Gale, Rufus Wain-wright and, perhaps mostfamously, Jeff Buckley. It hasbeen heard in TV shows andmovies as diverse as "TheWest Wing" and "Shrek." Ithas even been interpreted on"American Idol" and Eng-land's "The X Factor," thelatter leading to a record-breaking U.K. chart hit byfifth season winner Alex-andra Burke.

Yet "Hallelujah," it shouldbe noted, isn't some gemfrom Cohen's late '60s and'70s heyday. It's a track fromhis relatively unsung later

„-- years—1984, to be exact—and is found on an albuminitially deemed so uncom-mercial it didn't even war-rant an American release.

In keeping with that un-commercial spirit, Cohen

\d from public per-formances and recording formany years. But after fi-nancial setbacks, he beganrecording again and an-nounced his first U.S. con-cert tour in 15 years. Heperformed Thursday at NewYork City's Beacon Theatre,and is scheduled to performMay 5 at the Chicago Thea-tre.

Fifteen years may seemlike a long time, but Cohen isa patient man. "Hallelujah"reportedly took two years towrite and once allegedlyspanned 80 verses before hefound a way to whittle themdown (Cale's influential 1991version was supposedlycrafted from a mere 15 pagesof lyrics faxed to him byCohen). But for the thrilledaudience at the Beacon The-atre, Cohen's appearancecame not a moment too soon.

Yes, Cohen has writtenseveral classics—"Suzanne,""So Long, Marianne," "Chel-sea Hotel No. 2" and "Birdon the Wire" among them—but as of late, it's "Hallelu-jah" that increasingly pullsmore people into the fold. It'sa cryptic but compellingmasterpiece of hopeful mel-ancholy (and oft overlookedsensuality) by a man manymay not even know wrote it.

Not that Cohen seemed tomind. Though he was norecluse, the singer/song-writer grew increasinglysanguine on the sidelines inthe'80s, and by the'90s hehad vanished peacefully to aBuddhist retreat outside LosAngeles, where he was or-dained a monk and kept tohimself, apparently contentto let his legacy speak foritself.

But after five years inseclusion he reportedlyemerged only to learn thathis legacy had been ex-ploited by a former manager,who left him with just afraction of his fortune.That's what led him back towork, with new albums(2001's "Ten New Songs" and2004's "Dear Heather") andthe tour.

An icon as influential asBob Dylan, as cool as LouReed and as hip as TomWaits, Cohen nonethelessgot a late start in his career.He was 33 when he releasedhis first album, 1967's "Songsof Leonard Cohen." Now thathe's 74, it's unclear howmany tours he has left inhim.

Ironically, royalties fromall those renditions of "Hal-lelujah," as well as licensingdeals to use the song in mov-ies and on TV, probablymean that refilling the cof-fers is less of a priority forCohen than it once was. Yetthe rare opportunity to seeCohen perform the songhimself is not to be passedup, and on the day of theNew York show, tickets weregoing for hundreds of dollarsto desperate fans.

Perhaps news that a liveCD and DVD of Cohen's 2008London performance are ontheir way offered some sol-ace to those shut out, as didthe formal announcement of

the spring U.S. tour.).Yet that was likely no

substitute for the sight of theman himself, dapper andfleet of foot as he trotted intoposition to front his aceband through more than twohours of instantly recogniz-able material.

Like Dylan, Reed andWaits, Cohen is not a conven-tionally talented vocalist,but he still used his impres-sive baritone like a master,frequently delivering, onbended knee, each perfectlyphrased line with a mix ofmenace and knowing mirth.. In the end, it's no surprisethat an artist of Cohen'scaliber should return; eachyear more acts reunite, mostnowhere near his level.What's remarkable is howCohen has managed to dothis minus the stigma ofnostalgia. From "FamousBlue Raincoat" to "The Fu-ture," his music felt whollyin tune with the here andnow. "Dance me to the end oflove," he intoned at theshow's start, and the crowdfollowed him at every step.

That the ubiquitous andmuch-beloved "Hallelujah,"which came midway throughthe show, was (standingovation or not) far from theevening's highlight said lessabout the quality of thatcomposition and more aboutthe quality of all those thatsurrounded it.

One after the other, songssuch as "Sisters of Mercy,""Tower of Song," "The Parti-san" and "EverybodyKnows" reduced the audi-ence to rapt silence, atten-tive to every nuance of Co-hen's voice and the subtleaccompaniment of his bandand backing singers. Unlikethe work of many of his con-temporaries, these songshave weathered the passageof time not as relics but assomething special, some-thing living and breathing,something almost other-worldly in their austerityand grace.

From the looks on thefaces of the people pouringonto the street after theshow, to be part of it was arare privilege.

ctc-arts@tribune.com