Judy and Suzanne

Weather the same -- drought becoming an official possibility here.

A few days ago I spotted a Judy Collins CD for five dollars. Easy decision. I'm not a buyer of female folksingers that much, but Judy Collins is different. And the CD includes one very unique song.

Judy Collins had a voice (it has dimmed a bit with age) that just cut through the AM radio waves like a sacred sword of utterly pellucid beauty. I bought her 'greatest hits' LP at Bankertown's only classical record store downtown (the only record store downtown then) in something like 1971. The guys who ran it liked Judy's voice so much, they stocked her records with their otherwise "longhair" collection. Her voice was clear, clean, bright, soft, bluesy but with spot-on tone. The CD I now have reveals to these more mature ears that Judy could also modulate in and out of keys like a classical vocalist must, but maintain an easily digestible folk style. ("Cook With Honey" is playing now.)

Judy had successful hits in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Not a lot of them, but always well-chosen songs that became instant radio classics. One song on the CD (probably on the LP, too) is the greatest folk song ever written: "Suzanne" by Leonard Cohen. The song is a near-perfect lyrical portrait that sounded cryptic to people like me, and even a little heretical, then. But its haunting melody just won't turn you loose, and the mysterious lyrics are an instant grabber, but, like the melody, are so thought-provoking, they won't let you go, either. Music-writing pro's work for years to get a smooth style full of hidden "hooks" (discussed in a much earlier post), but here was a young Canadian poet who builds songs that hook you with no "hooks" at all! The power of the music is in its very simple structure: chord progressions that invite the listener into an intimate mystery the poet is sharing with you, with words so intimate you feel he is speaking directly to you personally -- even if you're listening with a batch of other people in the room! This strange gift of Cohen's was the subject of another song, one said to have been written about him: "Killing Me Softly." It was a hit when I was in high school (or maybe college) for an all-time fave for me: Roberta Flack. Her version of "Suzanne" I clearly recall in my head, even now, while I'm writing this listening to Judy Collins sing "Send in the Clowns."

I did a little homework this time before writing on Cohen and his song. It seems the subject of "Suzanne" is well known, and she was even the subject of a story on the CBC last year. She was at the time living homeless in a camper (really funky looking thing) in Venice, California. Her picture in the internet version of the story I found shows her to be a still-beautiful, but eccentric, free spirit. I imagine someone stepped forward quietly to help her out after that story ran, so here's hoping Suzanne's still doing OK.

Anyway, the story or something else I read led me to unwind one of the song's more trivial mysteries: "She feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China." Why this struck me as odd as a teen was hardly anyone served tea hot to me then, and on those rare occasions, it was a spice tea without milk. I couldn't imagine having any with oranges -- lip-pucker city! Cohen told an interviewer that she took him up to her and her husband's boho place in Montreal (tone-y spot now) and made him some tea as a gesture of hospitality. Cohen called it "constant tea." He obviously meant Bigelow's Constant Comment tea, widely available now and (I'm sure) then. Its recipe includes tiny bits of dried orange zest mixed in with the pekoe.

Anyone who's been to Montreal (I have! It was the only big trip I've ever been able to make with my own money -- September 1980.) At that time, more so in Cohen's salad days, Rue de Bonsecours was very historic and quiet, a good ways down the hill from the clubby Latin Quarter (where Cohen probably stayed). I recall the Chapel of Our Lady of the Harbor in that old town neighborhood, which (as I recall) features a statue of Jesus holding out his arms to the harbor itself. A statue of The Virgin also sits outside. Very beautiful, but only readily accessible (as I recall -- at least at that time) from the St Laurence river or its shoreline. The street entry is actually the back of the chapel! (I think that's right, anyway.)

Leonard Cohen's song today still haunts and even teases the mind with its utter accuracy, its tender edge, its sincere simplicity, its mesmerizing power. The best folk song ever written. Cohen may be here for the American premier of the Philip Glass work I wrote about a couple of weeks ago. Glass composed music to Cohen's latest book of verses: The Book of Longing -- which he wrote while a monastic on Mt Baldy. The world premiere either has been or soon will be in Cohen's native country.


LJ orig.: 05/28/07

___

Note (11/23/16): I just saw a portion of a German-language documentary on Suzanne Verdal made in 2011. In it, she says the late poet and songwriter never helped her financially.  She also said it was not Constant Comment tea but a special ceremonial blend with lychee nuts added.