Tea For The Tillerman2

As for old guys who can still kill it--or who could until very recently--my vote goes to Leonard Cohen. His early stuff, full of sensuality (a white/Jewish Barry White!), seems a bit leering now, but the last three albums, which marshal that deep voice for the mirror image of sex--that is, death--are, for this old guy, as remarkable an encounter with mortality as I know of in music. Thus, unlike Dylan, who seems to me to be just doing the same thing but with ever less control over his voice, and unlike the Stones, who just got boring at some point, and unlike Cat Stevens (a new "Tea for the Tillerman"? Really? Why? What was wrong with the old one?)--and, for that matter, even unlike Beethoven, whose late-life encounter with mortality simply transcended human limits altogether--Leonard converted that youthful lust into a beautiful resignation. These lines from "On the Level"--"I knew it was wrong / I didn't have a doubt / I was dying to get back home / And you were just starting out / I said I best be moving on / You said, we have all day / You smiled at me like I was young / It took my breath away / Your crazy fragrance all around / Your secrets all in view / My lost, my lost was saying found / My don't was saying do"--well, they break my heart every time.