Leonard Cohen
Songs of Love and Hate

THE REVIEW

An album that delves into the depths of the human soul, winding through the mazes of the human psyche. A man tortured by existential anxieties bares his soul through eight achingly emotional tracks. Leonard Cohen, a native of Montreal, Canada, is one of those few singer-songwriters who can capture the heart and mind of the listener, one of those few post-war folk masters who managed to interpret his inner turmoil and make it universal through the canonical song form. As a skilled chansonnier, Cohen was able to reconcile music and poetry in an incredibly true and authentic mix, personal and never banal, despite talking about matters shared on a wide scale, despite saying things that many people live through. The strength of this singer-songwriter of Jewish origin (he was of Jewish religion, as his mother was actually Lithuanian and his father Polish) lies in attempting (and succeeding) to exorcise his intrinsic malaise, giving the world touching and pure poetry, gentle and genuine lyricism.

After his recording debut named “Songs of Leonard Cohen,” a highly acclaimed folk work elevated to a cornerstone, and after an album in the vein of the first, Cohen released on March 19, 1971, a completely different long playing: "Songs of Love and Hate." A stunning cover where Leonard smiles against a black background, as if to highlight the contrast between light and shadow, and a back cover featuring a caption saying “They locked up a man who wanted to conquer the world, the fools, they locked up the wrong man” frame this masterpiece of authorial folk music destined for immortality “in saecula saeculorum.”

Cohen leaves little room for happiness: only in the track that closes side A, “Diamonds in the Mine,” does he indulge in choral joviality accompanied by a female choir. Yet the lyrics of the song in question do not reveal any sign of positivity: through raw language, the Canadian chansonnier directs a fierce critique at those who allow abortion (doctors), and at those mothers who decide to renounce the fruit of their intimacy, or who in certain cases leave it to unscrupulous men, their virile partners, the power to eliminate the “unborn child.” The texts of the other compositions are no less: from the depressing and monotonous “Avalanche,” one of Leonard’s most beautiful musical creations, which Nick Cave, thirteen years later, would cover in his recording debut, “From Her To Eternity,” to the melancholic “Famous Blue Raincoat” where the author speaks of his woman’s betrayal for his brother (“And what can I tell you, my brother, my killer? What could I ever tell you? I guess I miss you, I guess I forgive you, I'm glad you took my place. If ever you come by here, for Jane or for me your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free”). Not to mention the gripping and anguished “Dress Rehearsal Rag,” and the closing dedicated to the heroic figure of Joan of Arc (“Joan of Arc”), also mentioned in “Last Year’s Man”. Apart from “Love Calls You By Your Name,” the album also features a live piece (Isle of Wight, August 31, 1970), “Sing Another Song, Boys” which further impresses the listener. Fabrizio De André, our homegrown chansonnier, made covers of “Joan of Arc” and “Famous Blue Raincoat”: the former title is translated literally, while the latter changes to “La Famosa Volpe Blu” moving the focus to the female protagonist.

“Songs of Love and Hate” represents a decisive step in the Canadian artist’s career, a leap in quality compared to the past. To be listened to once, twice, endless times: it never tires. An album to love.