Leonard Cohen
Suzanne

PREAMBLE This review focuses solely on "Suzanne," and not on "Take This Longing," the B-side of the '76 single, released in the Netherlands, the United Kingdom, Greece, and Yugoslavia (according to Discogs page).

In the case of some artists, a single three-minute song can contain all possible messages and themes, along with potential conceptual nuances, that will be recognized each time, present, by the listener, and probably by the artist themselves, in all other works and omissions—if I may paraphrase, half-jokingly, the ecclesiastical formula. In the case of Leonard Norman Cohen, and his musical repertoire, the song that meets this requirement is the one that opens his very first work as a singer-songwriter, effectively introducing him to the world. I say "as a singer-songwriter" because, in reality, the Canadian chansonnier began as a poet and novelist; even in the '50s, his writing was a guarantee, and his literary efforts were rewarded with success in his homeland.

The solemn borrowing, of a citational nature, that I, the reviewer, have taken the liberty to use to approach Cohen's work with some lightness, has a very specific reason: "Suzanne," a brief and intense elegiac sketch that opens Leonard Cohen's debut LP, simply titled "Songs of Leonard Cohen," released by Columbia Records in December 1967, is one of the many songs in the Canadian singer-songwriter's production in which judicious and yet meditated use is made of Biblical metaphors to narrate a dreamt relationship.

The genesis of "Suzanne" dates back to the summer of '65, when Leonard spent much of his time with the young bohemian dancer Suzanne Verdal, towards whom he felt a deep platonic love. Their meetings took place either in a shed owned by the girl, on the St. Lawrence River in Montreal, or in the historical district of the city, where they often walked, skirting the church of Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours, where sailors in the 1800s were blessed before setting out to sea.
Tinted with melancholy, the song touches on themes like love, desire, redemption, and faith. Some have speculated that Cohen refers, in the lyrics, to a supposed sexual relationship with the girl in the title, a hypothesis denied by both directly involved parties.
This is not the only lyric dedicated to one of his many muses: already in 1966, before making his recording debut, several pieces in honor of Verdal appeared in the poetry collection "Parasites of Heaven", including an embryonic version of the song, prosaically titled "Suzanne Takes You Down".

The tender ode with which Leonard decides to invite the listener into his universe highlights the spiritual dimension of the everyday. The pier on the St. Lawrence River in Montreal, the artist's birthplace, represents a gateway to the spiritual dimension. The space remains unchanged—it is the listener who is rather provoked to look at the sacred in a different way, and to imagine it in the places of the everyday, tied to suffering and misery.
Cohen is not so much interested in the sacred strictu sensu, but he addresses the anthropological matter with great sensitivity and depth, delving into the fragmented interiority of the human being. By recalling the pier in Montreal, he invites following the female figure precisely on that pier. The relationship between Suzanne and the male protagonist of the song, her lover, is based on a quest for mutual trust, even though the trust the girl enjoys seems unmerited because it is potentially dangerous (she is labeled, not necessarily malevolently, as "half crazy"). The theme of imperfection (contrasted with perfection), along with the nagging doubt that one of the two will not be able to meet the other's needs, forms the thematic core of the piece.

But in the meeting described, the lovers find the peace and safety that the sound construction communicates. The music is predominantly acoustic, and Cohen's vocal inflection is as calm as ever, as if to convey a sensation of delicacy that seems to resolve—and actually succeeds in resolving—the relation between spiritual life and carnal passion, a typical theme of the author's repertoire. It is the woman who iconically represents this relationship through the enigma of her own beauty.

In the second verse, the figure of Christ is introduced, and Cohen describes the Nazarene as a sailor. He does not play the messianic role of one whose task is to save the world; rather, he is described as a broken figure, and it is precisely the theme of fragmentation, typically human, that represents a central element of Cohen's work. Above all, Jesus is presented as a remnant, as he cannot accept his own humanity. He can only be "almost human," as Cohen puts it. Since he abandons his human component, he is not worthy enough of human trust. The songwriter closes the second stanza as follows: "He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone," followed by the refrain in the same vein as the first, "And you want to travel with him, and you want to travel blind, and you think maybe you'll trust him, for he's touched your perfect body with his mind." Additionally, he cites the same