My day with Leonard Cohen (+ EXCLUSIVE review of Old Ideas)

It’s 2:00 PM in Manhattan.  It is January 20^th 2012.

Unfortunately, I’m not staying at the Chelsea Hotel, but at the Holiday Inn on W 57th St – Midtown West.

I am no Janis and I am no Edie; I was born too late.  But who knows, maybe he never had an Alice in his life. And, there ain’t no cure for love.  If you are confused, let me unfold the story.

Thanks to my writing and to this blog, I flew from Los Angeles to New York City to meet the man who has somewhat changed my life.

I wear a white Chanel-style coat. I want him to see me in the audience. And my lips are deep red, like blood—not really strawberries.

I am aware it’s quite early, but I ca’t wait any longer. I decide to have a smoke, and walk a couple of blocks to release the tension; I will get a taxi on the way.

I wear Chanel N°5 for the occasion. I did not have any money, this unexpected trip cost me a lot, but Sephora had a great deal on Madison Avenue. And, with $10.00 I manage to get a small dose of it—nothing makes me feel feminine like a few drops of Chanel on my neck and wrists.  It’s just what I need, feeling that I am doing something right today.

When I get to Joe’s Pub, in the East Village—where the listening party organized by Columbia Records will take place an hour later—I realize I am the first one to arrive. So I take the time to admire the beautiful Public Theater the club is part of.  But I can’t concentrate on the architecture, the smell, the old photos and the posters of upcoming events on the walls. I notice a lot of dust on the bricks; the place is being renovated.  

That’s what I do when I try to switch the radio off, the one in my brain. I notice minor details of the surroundings in order not to pay attention to what is going on within. I can’t remember the last time I was so nervous.

I take a slow, deep breath.  It is time to tell myself this is not a dream.  I am really meeting Leonard Cohen.

I wish I could write forever, because I fear not being able to remember the emotion and the irresistibly sweet tone of his voice; my trepidation and the heartbeat, the exact words and the look in his eyes, sinful and innocent at the same time.  However, I am afraid you will be bored before I actually get to the ‘music part.’  So I will do my best to entertain you, while inking this day forever on my skin.

With my surprise the audience is exceptionally small—it’s a private and exclusive event. I’m the youngest one, which makes me very proud.

I finally take my seat in the candlelight darkness of the velvet room; I go for the small round table in the front, not even thinking about who may be sitting next to me (later I will found out he is.)

The waiter offers me some wine, but I ask for a Pellegrino instead, with a straw.  My lipstick should last up to 8 hours, but you never know.

We are about to listen, for the first time, to Old Ideas, the new Leonard Cohen’s album that will be released on January 31^st, 2012.  He will introduce the record, and then a chat with him will follow.

You’re the lucky one – the host, Rita Houston, who is sitting next to me, whispers in my ear: “Leonard will be sitting right here, to answer questions.” 

“Thank you my friends.”

“Thank you for being here.”

The album starts playing. And, as I lose myself into the fire of the burning candles in front of me, I finally relax. I let the melody of his words in.

Cohen’s voice is deeper and lower than ever, despite the fact that he has quit cigarettes.  

And in between a rhythm from an old blues and a sweet melody that seems to come all the way from cold Eastern Europe, he tells a new story of Isaac.  Nevertheless, this time the gypsy boy seems to have found some kind of peace, or acceptance at least.

Show me The Place – which is very special in Cohen’s heart – is still my favorite song of this album. Amen blew me away with its religious name and some kind of respectfully profane, erotic poetry that carries a deeper and universal message.  A warm Sharon Robinson in the chorus stands up, together with a gloomy yet sensual trumpet, with a gypsy violin by its side.   

Coming Home gets under your skin and really makes you want to sleep with that lazy bastard in a suit.  

Not that I really care about age in a man, especially when talking Cohen, but at 77 he still knows how to speak to a woman.  In Anyhow you can almost smell him, while he whispers in your ear and arouses your brain with simple lines that shoot the bullet – Dreamed about you baby, you were wearing half your dress, I know you have to hate me, but could you hate me less?  Crazy to Love You is a step back into Leonard’s folk tradition but with a twist; a classic love ballad in the form of a moyen-age song. 

“Do you want anything to drink?”  

He asks me later, in his dressing room.  

“I have water, nuts, and some fruit…”

“How old are you, darling?”

I think that I should be the one asking questions…

“Will you give me that manuscript or are you going to hold it in your hands, darling?”

He says when we sit down for a chat.

The manuscript was my novel, a very raw draft.  How did the dream end?  

Some stories you just want to keep to yourself.  Some stories must be protected, kept safe in your heart.  For such memories will never fade away.  I can tell you that I spent some precious time with him, gave him my novel with a special dedication. Because Leonard has been that crack that allowed some light in during some of the darkest times of my life. 

With his charm, elegance and grace he touched my heart and gave me a life lesson that I will never forget.

Thank you, Leonard for being exactly how I thought you would be; the most charming, gentle, handsome, sexy, and humble man I have ever met.  And thank you, Robert for making this dream come true.  This blog is dedicated to you.