My sister and I just buried my father in Montreal. With only immediate family and a few lifelong friends present, he was lowered into the ground in an unadorned pine box, next to his mother and father. Exactly as he’d asked. As I write this I’m thinking of my father’s unique blend of self-deprecation and dignity, his approachable elegance, his charisma without audacity, his old-world gentlemanliness and the hand-forged tower of his work. There’s so much I wish I could thank him for, just one last time. I’d thank him for the comfort he always provided, for the wisdom he dispensed, for the marathon conversations, for his dazzling wit and humor. I’d thank him for giving me, and teaching me to love Montreal and Greece. And I’d thank him for music; first for his music which seduced me as a boy, then for his encouragement of my own music, and finally for the privilege of being able to make music with him. Thank you for your kind messages, for the outpouring of sympathy and for your love of my father. [Adam Cohen]
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Nej, jeg skal ikke slippe Leonard Cohen med det samme. Han stemme lyder endnu et sted i mit hovedes kakafoni af stemmer. Taler med ro og mørke.
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Sangtekst:
“Don’t Go Home With Your Hard-On”
My father was a dresser of hair
My mother was a girl you could call on
When you called she was always there
When you called she was always there
When you called she was always there
When you called she was always there
When you called she was always there
Ah but don’t go home with your hard-on
It will only drive you insane
You can’t shake it (or break it) with your Motown
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
I’ve looked behind all of the faces
That smile you down to you knees
And the lips that say, Come on, taste us
And when you try to they make you say Please
When you try to they make you say Please
When you try to they make you say Please
When you try to they make you say Please
When you try to they make you say Please
Ah but don’t go home with your hard-on …
Here come’s your bride with her veil on
Approach her, you wretch, if you dare
Approach her, you ape with your tail on
Once you have her she’ll always be there
Once you have her she’ll always be there
Once you have her she’ll always be there
Once you have her she’ll always be there
Once you have her she’ll always be there
Ah but don’t go home with your hard-on …
So I work in that same beauty salon
I’m chained to the old masquerade
The lipstick, the shadow, the silicone
I follow my father’s trade
I follow my father’s trade
Yes I follow my father’s trade
Yes I follow my father’s trade
Yes I follow my father’s trade
Ah but don’t go home with your hard-on
It will only drive you insane
You can’t shake it (or break it) with your Motown
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain
You can’t melt it down in the rain