Sunday, 13 November 2016

famous blue raincoat

I’m sure on any number of counts that 2016 has been told it seriously needs to ease off and it has seemed particularly harsh on musicians.
While ignorant of poet and performer Leonard Cohen until I was introduced to him in college (choice words and work courtesy of Nag on the Lake) and often conflating his lyrics and repertoire with the likes of Nick Cave and others whose acquaintance I just met, I did cherish the fact that hidden away somewhere was a resonant truth—to be confronted sparingly, but more out of neglect and distraction rather than fancying one secure from sophomoric matters of the heart or out of prescience that what’s genuine is cheapened by its loitering presence. As with David Bowie, Cohen had just completed a new album before passing and just a week previously, I had heard an excellent interview with the artist that got me nostalgic and excited to get to know him again—but importantly, just as grateful to count him as an influence, one of those strains that ought to be revisited at different stages of life in the hopes that with age comes wisdom and nuance.