The album Leonard Cohen thought would be his last: “Washed up”
The early 1970s for folk bard Leonard Cohen was a period of reflective reassessment. While starting strong with 1971’s Songs of Love and Hate coupled with his lauded Isle of Wight Festival performance the year before, disillusionment and depression had crept in while touring in Europe.
Stricken with stage fright and fears of the waning quality of his songcraft, Cohen almost came close to packing the whole singer-songwriter career in, telling Melody Maker in 1973: “I just cannot stand to remain part of the music business. I’ve reached a state when I’m just not writing anything.”
This chapter of self-doubt is starkly illustrated on 1973’s Live Songs. Glaring into the camera with stony rancour and adopting a slyly combative edge underneath his nonchalant cigar, his shaved head and low-resolution black and white look like a police mugshot, a record actively warding off any would-be buyer with its prickly disquiet. The majority of its tracks were recorded in 1972; the live document captures Cohen’s dark mood that clouded his sets during his troubled time.
Speaking to Melody Maker again in 1975, Cohen reflected on the Live Songs era during a spike in US commercial success and selling out Los Angeles’ Troubador Club: “For a while, I didn’t think there was going to be another album. I pretty well felt that I was washed up as a songwriter because it wasn’t coming anymore. Actually, I should have known better, it takes me a long time to compose a song.”
Cohen further revealed the wayward insecurity that weighed on his confidence and creative process: “I used to be petrified with the idea of going on the road and presenting my work. I often felt that the risks of humiliation were too wide. But with the help of my last producer, Bob Johnston, I gained the self-confidence I felt was necessary. My music now is much more highly refined…When you are again in touch with yourself and you feel a certain sense of health, you feel somehow that the prison bars are lifted, and you start hearing new possibilities in your work.”
Cohen’s emergence from the existential wilderness was a long one. Fan favourite New Skin for the Old Ceremony had lacklustre Billboard recognition, and his much-maligned collaboration with Phil Spector on Death of a Ladies’ Man alienated many in his fanbase.
The following decade saw his career rejuvenation as he swapped folk for synths and leaned further into the latter persona we all know. The elder romantic with a positive view of humanity shone through a prism of cynical and droll wit, reaching its apex on 1988’s I’m Your Man.
As with many difficult albums, Cohen would come to see his troubled live record as a necessary step toward creative growth and a bookmark in his chequered life, surmising with his signature zen philosophy: “The previous album Live Songs represented a very confused and directionless time. The thing I like about it is that it documents this phase very clearly. I’m very interested in documentation and often feel that I want to produce a whole body of work that will cover a wide range of topics and themes.”
