Eight days from now—on April 1 in Austin, Texas—Leonard Cohen will begin the North American leg of his ongoing world tour, heralding his first run of U.S. dates in over fifteen years. At his side, singing backup as she’s done throughout this itinerary, will be Sharon Robinson.
In fact, she’s been a recurring figure in Cohen’s music for the last three decades, whether serving as a vocalist (on stage and in the studio) or co-writer (as on “Waiting For The Miracle” and “The Letters”). Robinson broadened her creative palette on Cohen’s 2001 album, Ten New Songs, which she produced as well as having co-written, arranged, and sang on each of its tracks.
The sessions for Ten New Songs ultimately served as a template, of sorts, that Robinson later referred to while crafting her debut album, Everybody Knows. “I’ve definitely been very fortunate,” she says, “to be working with Leonard, and to be able to benefit from observing his process and his integrity as a writer.”
On this initial release, Robinson deftly interprets three songs previously co-written with Cohen—“Summertime,” “Alexandra Leaving,” and the title track—having solely composed seven originals that further distinguish her talent.
Before heading back out on the road, Robinson discussed her new album with Donald Gibson, reflecting not only on the music, but also on what insight she gleaned from her mentor as she sought to find a voice to call her own.
Was there a primary impetus—because you’ve had a career for many years—something that inspired you to go out on your own this time?
Making Ten New Songs with Leonard was the main impetus. Because not only did Leonard encourage me to make my own record after we did that one, [but] I kind of had a method established for doing so. At least initially, I embarked on my record in the way that we made Ten New Songs, in terms of the recording and the arrangements.
But also, and probably more importantly, I learned a lot about working with that artist’s voice and being true to a certain voice. Leonard knows himself very well as an artist, as a poet, as a writer; and it’s very informative to watch his process up close like that and to understand how he gets to the stuff that he deems relevant for him as an artist.
Was there tentativeness on your part—as producer, making Ten New Songs—not to infringe on whatever vibe he had going?
Of course, I brought in my aesthetic musically, but as a producer my job was really to facilitate his expression. And I tried to keep my eye on the ball with that all the time… It was not up to me to push any concept of mine on him, but to open things up and offer ideas for him to choose from.
So it wasn’t a Phil Spector rerun.
No! [Laughs]
Leonard is known for spending eons writing his works; for you, is songwriting an effort?
Yes, it often is quite a bit of an effort. You never know, when you write a song, how it’s going to go. Some of them… I’m sure you’ve heard people say, ‘They write themselves.’ Others definitely don’t [Laughs]. And there are songs where, parts of it, you really feel good about and believe in and then other parts you don’t. You may spend years trying to fix a song.
Of the songs that you wrote alone on Everybody Knows, did you know at the start of the endeavor that these songs were meant for you to sing?
Some I wrote years ago when I was writing for other people, but most of them I wrote for myself. It took me a little while to find that voice, to figure out what it [was] that I wanted to say. It was difficult, but extremely worthwhile. I feel good enough to have found an identity for myself as an artist.
There’s an ethereal vibe in the music and your vocals even reflect that on some songs as well with slight echo effects and embellishments. Yet the songs are weighed down by an intimate, almost meditative quality. Was that something you wanted to achieve, that contrasted dynamic?
I was looking for a sound that was mine. And I had to dig deep to find it, but at the same time it felt very natural. It feels like the kind of music that I like, what I want to put out there. The ethereal quality that you talk about, it’s just part of the way I find the emotion.
The ways certain things intertwine—how you’ll have a live piano over electronica flourishes—come off really well.
I’ve never been one to be very genre-specific. And that’s one of the things I like about this record is that it just crosses over genres and it’s being noticed by people from a lot of different genres. That’s always been my approach to music. And my enjoyment of music always crosses genres. That’s part of the character of this record.
As you co-wrote everything on Ten New Songs, why did you choose “Alexandra Leaving,” in particular, over anything else from that album?
I felt that “Alexandra Leaving” fit well with the other songs and that, melodically, it was something I wanted to do in that I could do something different from what’s on Ten New Songs.
Is there a specific or prevailing way that Leonard has inspired you as a songwriter, in the way you approach the craft?
He’s shown me how to write from the point of view of one’s heart and not from the point of view of trying to get a hit record. When I was a staff songwriter in the past, that was more the point of view. Now, it’s changed. As an artist, I’m always reaching for that same kind of integrity.
I imagine that takes a lot of digging.
Yes. And unless you can get yourself into a certain kind of head space, you can’t even begin to do that kind of digging. It’s so worth it [though], because the deeper you can go, the deeper you go into humanity, the more people you’re reaching. We have so much in common, in terms of being here on this earth.
After this tour with Leonard, are you planning any shows of your own?
I am planning to do some shows when the opportunity presents itself… I’m sure I will be doing that before too long.
Between 1978 and 2006, Leonard Cohen produced a body of music that rivals among the finest in his entire canon. Also in this era, he saw his popularity grow exponentially as his albums resonated with critics and audiences on a major scale. No longer a fringe artist with a cult following, Cohen evolved into a full-fledged (if not most-unlikely) pop star.
Leonard Cohen Under Review 1978 — 2006 examines this era of the legend’s music, paying particular attention to the context within which it was created and why much of it remains so highly regarded. Like other documentaries in the Under Review series, assorted music journalists (like Robert Christgau and Anthony DeCurtis) as well as other subject-relative specialists (like Cohen’s official biographer, Ira Nadel) lend their perceptions and insights. If any songwriter invites such meticulous assessment, it’s Cohen, but thankfully these commentators don’t succumb to tedious, condescending analysis.
While it highlights each studio album from Recent Songs to Dear Heather, the film uses Death of a Ladies Man, Cohen’s ill-fated 1977 collaboration with Phil Spector, as its thematic spark. Described as nothing short of a “debacle,” the project is evidenced to show that Cohen could only be at his best when he didn’t compromise his creative intent or accommodate anything but his own muse.
The documentary’s most astute contention, though, is that Cohen’s latter day ascent in popularity could, in part, be attributed to the recognition afforded him by a series of tribute albums featuring more mainstream performers covering his works. In particular, the 1987 Jennifer Warnes LP, Famous Blue Raincoat, as well as the various artist compilations, I’m Your Fan and Tower of Song: The Songs of Leonard Cohen, exposed Cohen’s songwriting prowess to a mass audience. And after appreciating these interpretive versions from an arguably more palatable perspective, much of that mass audience then sought out their source.
That visibility, so goes the assertion, thus enabled Cohen, upon the 1988 release of I’m Your Man, to reach and ultimately appeal to an unprecedented number of listeners. Unanimously acknowledged in the documentary as a masterpiece, the album catalyzed Cohen’s music career while subsequent efforts—most notably, The Future, with its prophesied, apocalyptic motif—substantiated his newfound distinction. As well, his voice having taken on a deep and sobering tone around this time, Cohen invested gravitas into his songs that rendered him an affecting vocalist in his own right.
A clear and convincing case is made in Leonard Cohen Under Review 1978 — 2006 as to how and why the music Cohen produced in this era so crucially factors into his overall renown. There are, of course, a multitude of reasons why, at age 74, Leonard Cohen still draws sell-out audiences in venues the world over. Nevertheless, this documentary addresses a few of them quite well.
If the final chapter on Phil Spector concluded before February 3, 2003, his life story would most likely have been one of a seminal music icon peppered with infamous tales of eccentric behavior, drunken mayhem, and random acts of violence. Given the events of that fateful night, though — as well as the criminal trial that followed and the one yet to come — a comprehensive biography is neigh on impossible to read without interpreting it through the context of actress Lana Clarkson’s death.
To his credit, author Mick Brown provides an equitable (and extensive) depiction in Tearing Down The Wall of Sound: The Rise and Fall of Phil Spector, recently published in paperback with a new afterword.
For much of the book, in fact, Brown paints a near-sympathetic portrait of the man behind the Wall of Sound. He writes of Spector’s childhood as one marred by trauma and chaos, during which he contended with issues of suicide, incest, and mental illness. Consequently, his inner anguish produced profound feelings of loneliness, resentment, and self-loathing.
Such feelings would serve as catalysts in his career, according to the author, insomuch as they not only inspired Spector to succeed, but to also avenge (as he perceived) any and all adversaries. Whenever he felt spited, ridiculed, or rejected — whether by a lover, confidante, colleague, or even the music industry — he would make a concerted effort to even the score.
Enlightening and meticulously examined accounts of Spector’s most prosperous era — during which he worked with the Righteous Brothers, the Ronettes, John Lennon, George Harrison, and (much to Paul McCartney’s chagrin) the Beatles — will surely interest music enthusiasts.
Yet it’s the harrowing descriptions of his demons — the enduring torment of his troubled childhood, adult anxieties and grief, as well as a predilection for alcohol and guns — that readers will find most engrossing. It was Spector’s demons and not a lack of talent, the author illustrates, that ultimately overtook him, turning a once-vital figure into a reclusive relic of a bygone era.
Tearing Down The Wall of Sound was originally published in June 2007, three months before Spector’s first criminal case ended in a mistrial; as such, the author summarizes its details in this edition’s afterword. His synopsis gives the reader a concise yet informative depiction of the court proceedings, including its crucial evidence, key witnesses, and forensic details.
Unfortunately, Brown’s straightforward summary soon evolves into an editorial of sorts, which undercuts the unbiased approach he assumed within the book proper. While he writes about his experience in interviewing Spector within the biography — including his cursory impressions of the man, his disposition and mannerisms — Brown wisely abstains from rendering judgment on his subject.
In the afterword, though, he relents. In referencing the defense’s contention that Lana Clarkson had killed herself, Brown asserts, “I found it impossible to believe that she would have committed suicide.” However he interpreted the evidence or viewed the tragic circumstances, given the absence of Spector’s conviction at the time of publication, the author should have remained neutral to allow the reader to form an independent conclusion.
Such notwithstanding, Mick Brown offers an evenhanded, exhaustively researched, and well-written biography with Tearing Down The Wall of Sound: The Rise and Fall of Phil Spector. In doing so, he allows the reader to vividly grasp one of music’s most enigmatic figures while, at the same time, confronting the dark side of genius and the madness of a wounded soul.
As you co-wrote everything on Ten New Songs, why did you choose “Alexandra Leaving,” in particular, over anything else from that album?
Posts
