Political songs of love and hate

When Leonard Cohen’s world tour arrived in Chicago in the spring of 2009, Barack Obama’s success was still feted with banners hanging from streetlights in the new president’s hometown. At the theater, the stage was bathed in similar reds and blues—and though the world was in economic crisis, the atmospherics of hope worked. “Sail on, O mighty ship of state,” sang Cohen, “To the shores of need past the reefs of greed / Through the squalls of hate.”

When Cohen died earlier this month, I could not help but think back to that astonishing tour. It was necessitated by a dishonest manager who made off with most of Cohen’s apparently modest fortune, but the tour’s career-spanning setlist, globe-spanning itinerary, and pin-sharp musicianship spurred a revival that was more than just pecuniary. Cohen—an esoteric bard and an acquired taste, seemingly past the peak of his influence—nudged back toward the limelight at a propitious time. He released three new albums and didn’t leave the road permanently until 2013.

There was always more to Cohen than the gloomy love songs, however profound those were. “Hallelujah” has been covered to the point that it can legitimately be called a standard; the song’s distinction comes largely from Cohen’s weaving of biblical and erotic language. This was a recurring move in his songs: a stanza about Jesus between two about a muse; an adaptation of a Jewish liturgical text with images of madness and despair; Marianne, who held him like a crucifix.