Famous Blue Raincoat

Leonard Cohen has long been a source of inspiration for me. His words and his voice have a richness that only comes from years of effort and layers of meaning and sound. One of my favorite songs that he has written is Famous Blue Raincoat.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=fvwp&v=7pXBisteRms&NR=1

It's four in the morning, the end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.
I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert
You're living for nothing now, I hope you're keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You'd been to the station to meet every train
And you came home without Lili Marlene

And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody's wife.

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane's awake --

She sends her regards.

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I'm glad you stood in my way.

If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear --

Sincerely, L. Cohen

For me, it is not the melody that strikes me so much about Leonard Cohen’s songs as much as particular lyrics and the way they are sung, always slowly and with sincerity.

One common theme in my art is the idea of social boundaries. Things that hold us back. Psychological and social pressures that are as strong and implacable as iron.

In Famous Blue Raincoat he sings nostalgically of a woman whom he once knew, that has resurfaced in his life. He is thinking of her at four in the morning. She has aged and worn, like everyone does, but still holds the same life. It is not this woman, but how he speaks of his own wife which interests me. He sings, “And you treated my woman to a flake of your life, And when she came back she was nobody's wife.” They are melancholy lyrics. It is no wonder he is thinking of this woman so early in the morning. He has had presumably years to affect and influence his own wife, and this woman changes her in a single night, or day or maybe an instance. Later in the song he sings the words, “Yes, and thanks, for the trouble you took from her eyes, I thought it was there for good so I never tried.” I think it is remarkable, the idea of a man realizing this alteration in his woman, this new freedom. Freedom from what? From trouble? From restraint? I can’t really tell. It is interesting that he would feel gratitude and relief even though the change would be a great sacrifice. What has changed? Nothing had changed in the way of titles or roles. She was granted absolution from some sort of mental responsibility, and he lost something even more abstract.

I relate to this song. Most of you know that I require a certain level of freedom. I need the liberty to work and to think. I sometimes feel like I want to abandon all life, to run away from my job, and from family, from friends and responsibility. I want to climb and run and hide high up in the mountains like Zarathustra, in the hope that I would have the time to discover some kind of knowledge, something unique and incredible to share with the world. But of course, those kinds of ideas are not hidden up in mountains. They can only be forged from life’s experiences, from human interaction. Besides I likely would end up like Zarathustra, running through crowds shouting out riddles that no other soul would comprehend.

For what it is worth, I am grateful for the sacrifices that others have made for me. I am fortunate that I am sometimes allowed time for mental emancipation and the ability to create. That small flake of freedom means the world to me.