Some Girls Wander by Mistake into the Mess that Scalpels Make

     I have been in thrall to Leonard Cohen since I discovered him when I was 20 years old and I would happily give him my soul in a McDonald’s Happy Meal box if he asked.  Or even if he didn’t.

      If you don’t know who Leonard Cohen is, I advise you to run over to YouTube and start listening without delay!  Without delay!

      What accounts for his appeal…?  Even in his youth, he couldn’t sing worth a damn–his voice was simply serviceable, at best.  His music is not complex.  Understated.  He’s plain to look at and doesn’t command attention–in live performances, his backup singers usually steal the show.  He’s probably eighty years old.

     However, I cannot think of a better songwriter.  Period.   And not only is he an excellent poet, but he puts himself out there–100%, all the time, in every song.  His songs are breathtakingly intimate.  I honestly don’t know how he does it.  I spill my guts on this blog, but it is a constant effort. I still usually pull back, pull back.

      So sensitive, and such courage.

      That is what makes art.


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