Leonard Cohen’s emotional final encore at his last ever performance: “Friends, I want to thank you”
There isn’t much about Leonard Cohen that ever felt ordinary. That’s not to say he let his artistry distract him from humanity, or that his ability to sit as an observer ever stopped him from enveloping himself in an unfurling life. But he seemed to glide through the world as an ethereal member of our humble existence.
To feel at once current and timeless is a unique trick that very few artists can perform. It is a magic act reserved for only the finest illusionists, and Cohen was certainly one of them. His duality in life became perhaps his grandest performance. He was sweet and tender yet sharp and bitter; his works were littered with glistening beauty but marred by darkening tragedy. He lived a life in defiance of the end, and in death, he exposed more life than most could hope for.
Towards the end of the ‘Hallelujah’ singer’s life, Leonard Cohen found a youthful passion and exuberance in his work. It was a new vigour for creativity and the determination to leave a lasting warmth upon the music scene that lasted up until his death in 2016 and beyond. It was an exuberance that had hinted at Cohen’s perceived immortality as a poet being realised, such was its power.
In recent years, his son Adam Cohen composed an album full of unheard Leonard Cohen songs called Thanks for the Dance. While Adam began the recordings with the iconic star, he completed the album without his father. It acts as a sonic resurrection of sorts, allowing us to fall a little deeper into Cohen’s iconography and be given a chance to say goodbye.
The same could also be said for Cohen’s live performances, when, after a long hiatus, the Canadian musician returned to the stage in 2008 as part of his ‘Grand Tour’, which would last for 387 shows spanning over five years on countless continents. It was the perfect way for Cohen to bow out, allowing the universal star to visit the points of intrigue that had supported him across an impressive career to say thank you.
Adam Cohen would later reflect on his father’s career with Rolling Stone: “They say that life is a beautiful play with a terrible third act. If that’s the case, it must not apply to Leonard Cohen. Right now, at the end of his career, perhaps at the end of his life, he’s at the summit of his powers.” He talked in part about Cohen’s live performances and the complete ‘hear a pin drop’ power that he brought to every single performance.
By the time of his death, Cohen’s live shows had transcended from his iconoclastic first two acts and begun to settle in a more candid and humourous fashion, pitching the infamously cantankerous singer as a loveable uncle figure. Singer, poet and author as capable of buying you a pack of smokes as they were reading Nietzsche to your high school girlfriend. Yet, of course, a loveable uncle with a three-hour set jam-packed with some of the most touching and emotive lyrics ever written.
When Cohen arrived at the end of the ‘Grand Tour’ at Auckland’s Vector Arena, the singer had amassed an astonishing 1,110 hours on stage for global audiences, wowing them every step of the way. Yet, he was still in an equally affable and astounding form, enjoying the company of his audience and seemingly at the top of his game.
Little did any of the crowd know that night that his encore would be the last time Cohen would perform on stage.
During the performance that night, Cohen had offered a thankful tribute to the stage and his long and impressive career: “Friends, I want to thank you for the wonderful hospitality you’ve showed us tonight. I want to thank you not just for tonight, but for all the years you’ve paid attention to my songs. I really appreciate it.” It was a simple and sweet message that would be the near-final words Cohen uttered on stage, succinctly summarising his need to perform and be loved.
Like many shows on the tour and a clear indication of the added thread of humour in his live performances, Cohen had been using his encore to deliver a wonderful rendition of ‘I Tried to Leave You’. He also decided, one of the greatest songwriters the world has ever known, that he would end his show with a cover of The Drifters’ classic, ‘Save the Last Dance for Me’.
He naturally turns the song into his own, and the cover is up there with one of the best you’re ever likely to hear. Considering, unlike many of his contemporaries, Cohen has an aversion to covers; it’s a remarkable moment as he forsakes his own pride and canon of songs for the work of others. Clearly, a real poet only needs words, no matter if they are his own or not.
The song ends, and Leonard Cohen removes his hat, takes one last bow and walks offstage, happy with his work that night and all the hundreds of others.
