‘Old Ideas’ Presents Cohen As a mature, But Seasoned Poetic Artist

Old Ideas is a fitting title for Leonard Cohen's new album–not because its ideas are stale or tired, but because it seems a summation of his career, exploring the grand and timeless themes that have always been his concern: love and sex, suffering and despair, and the redemptive possibility of hope and faith. The 77-year-old Cohen, who began as a poet before transitioning to music in 1967, manages the difficult task of taking on such lofty themes while remaining playful and not ponderous. Cohen's detractors often portray him as a purveyor of gloomy, monotonous dirges, but the truth is more complicated. Cohen fans are fond of calling the Canadian bard Laughing Len, and the moniker has more truth than it would first appear: even when singing of the bleakest subjects, Cohen never lets go of his wry, dark humor.

The opening track, "Going Home," is a prime example of both sides of Cohen. The slow and simple piano strokes, the thematic suggestion of death, and Cohen's deep, gravelly voice give the song a melancholy feeling, but the opening lyrics reveal Cohen's dry, self-deprecating humor: "I love to speak with Leonard / He's a sportsman and a shepherd / He's a lazy bastard living in a suit." The song is vintage Cohen, with a simple musical arrangement that allows the beauty of Cohen's poetry to come to the forefront. It is true that Cohen has never been a great singer, but he has always made the most of his limited range. Here, his low, throaty growl gives the impression not only of age but also wisdom and authority. As ever, Cohen is ably assisted by his female backup singers, who supply lovely melodies and harmonies without ever upstaging him.

Cohen's poetic voice is even more evident than his literal one. Songs like "Amen" and "Show Me the Place," with their lyrical mingling of the sacred and profane, tap into the same impulses as Cohen's most famous (and perhaps greatest) song, the frequently covered "Hallelujah." No song on Old Ideas measures up to that one, but each stands on its own considerable merits. "Show Me the Place" is a particularly affecting track. Cohen's voice, tinged with regret and hope, addresses an estranged lover over a slow piano part: "Show me the place where you want your slave to go … Show me the place, help me roll away this stone." The metaphor of love as suffering and even madness gets a lot of play on Old Ideas: from the aptly titled "Crazy to Love You" to the closing track, "Different Sides," which details a conflicted relationship over a background of pulsing keyboard strokes.    

That last track is one of several on the album that finds the band cutting a bit looser than is typical for Cohen, and it's a welcome change. Some of Cohen's albums suffer from sameness in their musical style, but thankfully Old Ideas has both variety and cohesion. Cohen embraces the blues on "Darkness," a groovy little number that is one of the album's highlights. Other changes of pace include "Anyhow," which suggests Cohen as a nightclub singer, and the relaxed "Banjo," a song with pleasantly twanging guitar work that wouldn't be out of place in a country tune. Songs like these only make the album's few dull spots more glaring, which include the truly tiring "Lullaby" and the largely unremarkable "Crazy to Love You."

Still, such songs are weak only in relation to the rest of the album's strength, and none is without interest. Cohen is certainly an acquired taste, but he is also undeniably consistent, and above all, authentic. It's almost superfluous to mention Cohen's credibility as a poet, or the fact that he often slaves for years over writing one song, or the fact that he retreated from public life for a few years to study in a Buddhist monastery, because his poetic prowess, spirituality, and profound insight are evident in nearly every song. Cohen has said that the threat of mortality looms over Old Ideas, but the evidence of the album reveals that his art is very much alive.