He steps into the spotlight with the deliberate slow of an accomplished Casanova. Polished top-to-toe; seemingly a proper, suited gentleman, my cohen-virgin eyes betray me.
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The band is readied;
the audience hushed;
the theater dimmed.
And like a tawny port sliding silk-like into the core of your being on a brisk, winter evening, Leonard Cohen intoxicates in the smoothest and headiest way. He croons and charms his way into your heart, the lyrics washing over you in delectable waves, and you can’t help but become helplessly drunk on the deep, dark liquor of his voice.
If you want a lover
I’ll do anything you ask me to
And if you want another kind of love
I’ll wear a mask for you
If you want a partner
Take my hand
Or if you want to strike me down in anger
Here I stand
I’m your man
The baritone of his art pulses alongside your own, staggered heartbeat; each lingering lyric caught on your shallow breath as you anticipate the next… and the next… and the next.
Transfixed, you let the music hold you; embrace you; caress you; seduce you…
