Do not let the spark of my soul go out in the even sadness

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I cannot believe we are here again. It feels like the cosmos is snuffing out the lights, one by one. Yet I know that Leonard Cohen would not agree. There is a crack in everything – that’s how the light gets in. And oh how brightly, how magnificently, Leonard shone, illuminating and warming the world.

I came to Leonard very late, in his latter-day renaissance when he was a man in his late seventies. He was producing some of the greatest work of his long career and remained doing so right until the end. As I wrote then I felt, and I feel, enormously privileged to have been able to see him live (twice, as it turned out). Truly, in a world where the word ‘privilege’ is thrown around with abandon, we were fortunate to find Leonard:

Watching Cohen made the modern obsession with mocking ‘authenticity’ seem infinitely mean-spirited and short-sighted. Here was a man who clearly approached his craft as high art, giving himself entirely to its calling with a refreshing and seductive humility and self-deprecation.  At one point he praised his backing singers (a phrase which seems almost insulting, such was their brilliance and centrality to the show), begging them to never leave as without them, ‘no-one would come to see my show’. The musicians on stage all clearly had a profound respect for one another, a spark amongst them which frequently ignited into a dazzling flame. So often I felt that I was witnessing true brilliance, a transcendental magic which made me feel privileged to even be in the same room.

The poem at the top is taken from a pocketbook of Leonard’s poems and lyrics which I have returned to many times over the years. Sometimes, like today, I put it in my bag and carry it with me. All of the wisdom of the ages seems contained in its pages. Only yesterday I was listening to Everybody Knows and thinking how apropos it was for the age we live in:

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long-stem rose
Everybody knows

Everybody knows – but few knew like Leonard. There is some comfort to be found in the awareness that he seemed to know this was coming and had made his peace with it. You didn’t have to parse his last album very closely to know what much of it was about. I’m leaving the table, I’m out of the game. I’m travelling light, it’s au revoir. Hineni, hineni – I’m ready my Lord. In his final letter to Marianne Ihlen he wrote:

Marianne it’s come to this time when we are really so old and our bodies are falling apart and I think I will follow you very soon. Know that I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand, I think you can reach mine.

These two lines, with their compassion, comfort, self-deprecation and deep, deep well of love capture Leonard wonderfully. Even as an old man he seemed to possess wisdom drawn from another place and a grace which took you gently into its arms and cradled you. Now he is going home and he has earned his sleep:

Leonard will always be with me. I know that I will return to his songs and his words, so without parallel, until the day I too am taken. For now, it’s closing time and I will raise a toast to a truly wonderful man before heading out into the cold.

The days may not be fair, always
That’s when I’ll be there, always
Not for just an hour,
Not for just a day,
Not for just a year, but always.

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RIP Leonard Cohen.

Lisbon 2016

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We can hardly move
with so much music.

We are, therefore, here
to serve an exact purpose.
We look like generals
on horses.
Here’s the battlefield
where defeat awaits us:
the street corners that wind
till our last yawn
and people listening
to their own story
in the songs.

Music, not time,
can heal certain wounds.
– Rua Diário de Notícias by Vítor Nogueira

Photos are here.

The Rebel Heart Tour

Like A Prayer

(click on image for video)

When Rebel Heart was released I wrote that “‘some things can’t be replaced’ could fairly be described as the over-arching theme of the album”. This is, it’s safe to say, underlined by the Rebel Heart tour. I had read reviews describing it as a joyful experience but I couldn’t quite fathom how the setlist, which looked somewhat schizophrenic and jarring on paper, could lend itself to that.

Well, it does. It really, really does.

This was a Madonna at ease with herself: with her massive legacy, which she has sometimes shied away from, and with her current status as the grande dame of popular music. It’s no accident that the tour opens with Iconic and Bitch I’m Madonna before roaring back to 1983 with Burning Up, where “I’m not the same, I have no shame, I’m on fire!” was a prescient mission statement. The Rebel Heart songs, packed with allusions to Madonna’s position as an ageing pop star, sit surprisingly comfortably alongside old classics overwhelmingly taken from the first decade of her career. Perhaps most shockingly of all, these older songs are largely performed straight, rather than transformed in one of her trademark reinventions. There was a palpable sense of love pouring towards the stage when she performed True Blue, Like A Virgin, Like A Prayer, La Isla Bonita, Deeper and Deeper, Material Girl, Holiday in versions everyone could dance and sing-a-long to. Even a jazz version of Music quickly reverts to the squelching electro everybody knows. For once she was giving people the nostalgia they crave in their iconic pop stars – and she seemed to enjoy doing it.

As opposed to the brilliantly oppressive darkness of the MDNA tour, there was little here to disrupt audience expectations of ‘Madonna’: religion, sex, love, politics, defiance and feminism all dutifully appeared (sometimes all at once, as when Madonna surfed atop a dancer dressed as a nun on a rotating crucifix(!)) but always with a knowing, humourous wink. The flashes of steel were a lot more subtle this time round: the inclusion of many Rebel Heart songs was sweetened with the sugar of classics for casual fans, flashes of Give It 2 Me’s ‘Nothing’s gonna stop me now’ interspersed Music while the pre-encore show ended with new album track Unapologetic Bitch. Even the latter, however, was made more palatable for casual listeners by being delivered with light-touch humour and by dragging Graham Norton up on stage.

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Given the title of the album, tour and the heart-shaped stage, it was only fitting that the song Rebel Heart felt like the throbbing centrepiece of the show. It was delivered alone by Madonna, standing in front of a screen depicting fan art of her throughout her past three decades:

Rebel Heart

(click on image for video)

It was both moving and celebratory, a testament to one of the most spectacular careers in popular music. That’s what this show is. Madonna might be one of the hardest working people in pop but she seems to finally feel that she has little left to prove. All she has to do is remind us of who she is, what she’s done and let us love her because, by and large, her fans have been on much of the journey with her. “We’re alive. We survived. And amen to fucking that!” she exclaimed at one point. Amen, indeed.

And she performed Candy Shop, of course. Bitch, she’s Madonna.

Photos and videos are here.