Dear Heather

Cohen Leonard

Dear Heather
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Dear Heather

Cohen Leonard

He doesnt hardly sing any more, Leonard Cohen. In fact, there are tracks on Dear Heather where hes only credited with backing vocals, and a track where he mutters an internal dialogue with either himself or God the two are easy to confuse in his world - almost under his breath. And he doesnt really write that much any more, either. The title track is a five line poem, a couple of tracks are simply a dozen lines repeated a couple of times. But really, who cares? Superficially the sonic twin sister of Ten New Songs, Heather is actually a more complex collection. Suicide Waltzes hark back to Death of a Ladies Man. An almost country lilt and a restrained city street swagger. Theres barely believable sexual bragging, languid self recrimination, metaphysical melancholy and earthy delight. Giggling confusion and faltering faith in Him and himself. Theres an awful lot in its very little.

Mark Luffman is from Readings Malvern

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