Did Leonard Cohen create the ultimate version of ‘The Partisan’?
If you scroll through any list of the greatest lyricists of all time, you’ll probably stumble across the name Leonard Cohen, and for good reason. After starting out as a poet and writer, Cohen spent the latter half of the 1960s translating his indulgent writings into songs, adorning them with orchestral arrangements and gentle strums that packed an emotional punch. He told stories of sex and faith, of war and freedom, demonstrating his talent with a pen on each and every composition.
The deep-voiced folk singer became well-known for his distinctive way with words, earning widespread praise and admiration for his ability to construct compositions full of depth and desire. He was a lyricist through and through, a born poet who just happened to sing or put out a record every now and then. And, yet, one of the most affecting songs in Cohen’s catalogue was a cover.
After introducing himself to the music world with Songs of Leonard Cohen in 1967, the Canadian songwriter returned just two years later with the slightly more stripped-back and aptly titled Songs from a Room. It was a calmer effort, free of the excessive arrangements that had characterised his debut. It also produced some of the most beautiful lyrics in his discography, from opener ‘Bird on the Wire’ to ‘Seems So Long Ago, Nancy’.
Amid those aching original compositions, Cohen threw in a cover of an old anti-fascist song called ‘The Partisan’, or ‘La complainte du partisan’. The music and lyrics had been written decades before Cohen took on the song, a collaborative effort between musician Anna Marly and Emmanuel d’Astier de La Vigerie, a member of the French Resistance.
In the song, Cohen takes on the voice of the title partisan, charting his story from resisting surrender to seeking shelter, as well as the losses along the way. “I have changed my name so often, I’ve lost my wife and children,” he sings, “But I have many friends, and some of them are with me.” His words are accompanied by quick twangs and subtle strings, each serving to enhance his deep tones.
Eventually, Cohen’s laments and desperate longing for freedom are accompanied by a woman’s voice. Together, they sing more of the partisan’s story, this time in French, but the feeling is still palpable even to non-speakers of the language. “Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing, through the graves, the wind is blowing,” Cohen concludes over those familiar twangs, “Freedom soon will come, then we’ll come from the shadows.”
Though Cohen didn’t pen the song, he made it his own on Songs From A Room, allowing his guitar strums and low vocals to ache with the story of the protagonist, to feel the weight of the French resistance. In fact, the song became so tied to Cohen’s version that many believed him to have written it.
This wasn’t the case, but ‘The Partisan’ became one of the standout tracks on his sophomore record nonetheless. It was proof that he wasn’t just a lyricist but a singer who could encapsulate feeling and meaning through his delivery, instrumentation, and pen. A work of tender guitar playing and defiant anti-fascism, ‘The Partisan’ remains not just one of the finest works on Songs From A Room but a highlight in Cohen’s entire discography.
