CheekyChicago

When it comes to gentlemen, Leonard Cohen is the original gangster. Sharing one of the most intimate sets of music I’ve ever witnessed and with a stage full of world-class musicians, Cohen came poised with grace, respect for the other musicians (as well as his adoring audience) and the grand humility that makes him a legend.

Cohen joined Chicago for a 2-night stand at the Chicago Theater, his first show back in 15 years, when he was “just a boy of 60 years old, with a big dream.” If you care to do the math, that makes Leonard Cohen 75 years old. Though his reputation for melancholy is titanic to the point of humor, recent works from his library include the theme song to The Sopranos and he is the original writer and performer of “Halleluiah,” known today for Jeff Buckley’s infamous cover. An evening with Leonard Cohen was a very touching look into some of his most famous songs, yet each song is reborn with a whisper of blues or Latin influence, coddled beautifully by the harmonies of three pitch-perfect women Cohen’s ground-shaking bass.

One thing that remains consistent throughout Cohen’s entire career is his ability to choose instruments, musicians and vocals that perfectly support the others. So great is the control these musicians have over there instruments, a crescendo could decrescendo in all of 2 beats and three voices could sound as one, both teasing and delighting the senses. Another consistent is Cohen’s voice. At 75, aging seems to have not affected much. His voice still resounds in notes of the blackest chocolate, chords quivering through scales. It would have been easy to mistake his baritone for the judgment day voice of God in “Repent.”

To look at Cohen on stage, with his signature black suit and hat, you wouldn’t suspect his age. He still dances around, gets down on his knees, vocally engages each instrument in a sort of dance. And giving credit where credit is due, he takes off his hat in respect as he introduces members of the band, or listens to each solo interpretation of his music. For three hours and 4 encores, Cohen demonstrated perfect timing between capturing the audience in an infectious beat, seeking out their souls during the few moments he chose to simply recite his poetry, and leaving them all alone and hurting after one of his darker songs-almost feeling guilt as though they had caused high such pain to begin with. Because when Cohen sings, he is singing to you and you alone, or so that is how he makes you feel.

After the show, I was left with dried tear streaks on my cheeks, enough song lyrics scribbled into my little book to write a new one, and that bittersweet feeling that comes with the knowledge that I just saw a Great, and maybe I just saw a Great during one of his Last. Halleluiah indeed.