Murray Lerner
Leonard Cohen live at the Isle of Wight 1970

It is well known that when discussing singer-songwriters on an international level from the 60s onwards, thoughts often turn to Bob Dylan, often referred to as the minstrel of an entire generation, the so-called baby boomers born between 1945 and 1964. Yet, if there is someone among the many authors who rose to prominence who can stand on par with Mr. Zimmerman, it is certainly Leonard Cohen. For him, the term "author" must be highlighted as he first took steps as a poet and writer (with respectable works such as "The Favourite Game" and "Beautiful Losers") before starting his musical journey with "Songs of Leonard Cohen" in 1967, encouraged by his friend and artist Judy Collins (a figure to rediscover). Already in his debut album, he distinguished himself with an acoustic style, direct and free of any diva affectation, indifferent to commercial success.

To get a faithful idea of what kind of man and artist Cohen was, it is very useful to watch the documentary "Leonard Cohen Live at the Isle of Wight 1970," made on that occasion by Murray Lerner and available in a nice box set including a DVD and CD of the concert. It is the recording of a historic performance that took place under particularly difficult conditions. The music festival held on the Isle of Wight in the summer (first edition in 1968) usually attracted a discerning crowd of youths towards the groups and soloists present, so much so that in the summer of 1969, a Bob Dylan not quite at the top of his capabilities (it was his first performance after retiring from the scene in 1966) was received a bit coldly.

In 1970, the number of spectators was impressive: 600,000 (twice as many as those registered the previous year at the Woodstock festival). And among these spectators, a certain percentage consisted of young people who, in the name of a dissenting view against market logic, refused to pay the entrance ticket to the festival, which was 3 pounds, because music should be enjoyed for free. As a result, moments of tension occurred during the performances of Kris Kristofferson, Jethro Tull, Joni Mitchell, and Jimi Hendrix (with a fire breaking out on stage, quickly subdued).

In short, there were no reassuring premises before Leonard Cohen started playing. Yet, at 2 o'clock in the morning on August 31, 1970, the musician presented himself with Olympic calm to the audience, as if nothing happened, accompanied by a group of skilled musicians named The Army. Perhaps it was the night hour that brings advice and calms the spirits, but the fact is that Cohen managed to create a feeling (one could not define it otherwise) with the vast audience, positioning himself as a hypnotic storyteller (and not just a refined singer). Indeed, evoking the years of childhood when his father would take him to circus shows, he mentioned the magical moment when the presenter, addressing the spectators, would invite them to light a match to make the faces of those present visible, thus creating a very intimate atmosphere. This was a feat that, on the Isle of Wight, Leonard Cohen managed to repeat with many (not exactly all) and contributed to creating a heartfelt and serene participation. Hence began an intense concert, centered on those first beautiful songs of Cohen's story, all marked by a sober and sophisticated style and focused on the great themes of life and death. Particular attention is given to love experienced deeply, as emerges in many auspicious titles for such a feeling, including, just to mention a few, "So Long, Marianne" (introduced by the grand romantic author as a hope to find the beloved woman among the 600,000 present), "Suzanne," "You Know Who I Am," "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye," "Tonight Will Be Fine" (with a melancholic aftertaste when he sings that "tonight will be fine for a while," aware that love can be fragile and temporary).

Among the songs performed, there is also space for more political themes like "The Partisan" (sung half in French and dedicated to the public commitment of folksinger Joan Baez) and, of course, that magnificent anthem to freedom like "Bird on the Wire," a theme deeply felt by Cohen. So much so that, at a certain point, showing awareness of how that crowd of young people was experiencing an unrepeatable season of great utopias, he reminded those present that their feeling of being an alternative community to the surrounding world did not yet make them strong enough (in fact, this whole counterculture would easily be absorbed by the system in a matter of a few years).

Thus a melancholic note remains beneath the surface in the compositions performed by Cohen, and not for nothing, the concert closed with "Seems So Long Ago, Nancy," in my opinion, one of the most beautiful love songs ever written (later revived by Fabrizio De André), dedicated to a girl the author met and loved in 1961. The memory of this woman was still so vivid because she, prey to severe depression, had committed suicide with her brother's gun (and Cohen noted, before performing the track, that at the time of that suicide there wasn't a sort of "horizontal support" as was recorded in the youth community of the so-called "Woodstock nation").

Such an enthralling concert (without needing to resort to special scenic effects except a clear musical execution, rich in messages that go straight to the heart and the listener's feelings) is a document of vivid beauty even years later, telling us about the atmosphere of those unrepeatable years and the ability of an author like Leonard Cohen to capture and keep the attention of 600,000 spectators well-held, leading a profound and captivating show. A rare talent possessed by only a few great musicians and artists.