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Autumn Into Winter Mix…With Your Help

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy viagra cialis 40mg
I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, mind but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, advice the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy viagra cialis 40mg
I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, mind but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, advice the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra canada sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, viagra generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy viagra cialis 40mg
I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, mind but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, advice the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra canada sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, viagra generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, buy cialis order dare I say, tadalafil souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, capsule grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it a arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy viagra cialis 40mg
I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, mind but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, advice the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra canada sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, viagra generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, buy cialis order dare I say, tadalafil souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, capsule grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it a arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, generic viagra seek dare I say, viagra souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, search grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it an arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy viagra cialis 40mg
I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, mind but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, advice the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra canada sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, viagra generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, buy cialis order dare I say, tadalafil souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, capsule grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it a arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, generic viagra seek dare I say, viagra souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, search grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it an arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
http://www.spacepimping.com/graphics/myspace-happy-birthday-graphics/HappyBirthday62.jpg

On the occasion of Sabina’s birthday, buy cialis pilule I’m taking a break from my, cialis sale viagra uhm, break.

So, Sabina…

If this is turning out to be a good day, then Birthday by The Beatles.

If the day kinda sucks and you want it to suck a little more, then I Burn Today by Frank Black.

If you know the birthday of someone you hate, then send him/her Unhappy Birthday by The Smiths.

If you don’t see this post until tomorrow, then Happy Birthday Yesterday by Hayden (a Mark Mulcahy cover).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy viagra cialis 40mg
I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, mind but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, advice the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra canada sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, viagra generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, buy cialis order dare I say, tadalafil souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, capsule grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it a arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, generic viagra seek dare I say, viagra souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, search grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it an arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
http://www.spacepimping.com/graphics/myspace-happy-birthday-graphics/HappyBirthday62.jpg

On the occasion of Sabina’s birthday, buy cialis pilule I’m taking a break from my, cialis sale viagra uhm, break.

So, Sabina…

If this is turning out to be a good day, then Birthday by The Beatles.

If the day kinda sucks and you want it to suck a little more, then I Burn Today by Frank Black.

If you know the birthday of someone you hate, then send him/her Unhappy Birthday by The Smiths.

If you don’t see this post until tomorrow, then Happy Birthday Yesterday by Hayden (a Mark Mulcahy cover).
http://www.spacepimping.com/graphics/myspace-happy-birthday-graphics/HappyBirthday62.jpg

On the occasion of Sabina’s birthday, viagra usa treat
I’m taking a break from my, viagra uhm, sick break.

So, Sabina…

If this is turning out to be a good day, then Birthday by The Beatles.

If the day kinda sucks and you want it to suck a little more, then I Burn Today by Frank Black.

If you know the birthday of someone you hate, then send him/her Unhappy Birthday by The Smiths.

If you don’t see this post until tomorrow, then Happy Birthday Yesterday by Hayden (a Mark Mulcahy cover).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy viagra cialis 40mg
I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, mind but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, advice the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra canada sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, viagra generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, buy cialis order dare I say, tadalafil souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, capsule grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it a arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, generic viagra seek dare I say, viagra souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, search grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it an arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
http://www.spacepimping.com/graphics/myspace-happy-birthday-graphics/HappyBirthday62.jpg

On the occasion of Sabina’s birthday, buy cialis pilule I’m taking a break from my, cialis sale viagra uhm, break.

So, Sabina…

If this is turning out to be a good day, then Birthday by The Beatles.

If the day kinda sucks and you want it to suck a little more, then I Burn Today by Frank Black.

If you know the birthday of someone you hate, then send him/her Unhappy Birthday by The Smiths.

If you don’t see this post until tomorrow, then Happy Birthday Yesterday by Hayden (a Mark Mulcahy cover).
http://www.spacepimping.com/graphics/myspace-happy-birthday-graphics/HappyBirthday62.jpg

On the occasion of Sabina’s birthday, viagra usa treat
I’m taking a break from my, viagra uhm, sick break.

So, Sabina…

If this is turning out to be a good day, then Birthday by The Beatles.

If the day kinda sucks and you want it to suck a little more, then I Burn Today by Frank Black.

If you know the birthday of someone you hate, then send him/her Unhappy Birthday by The Smiths.

If you don’t see this post until tomorrow, then Happy Birthday Yesterday by Hayden (a Mark Mulcahy cover).

While I stubbornly chose to ignore all forms of electronica prior to, viagra sale buy uhm, best cialis cure actually listening to it (I know, aghast!), I was nonetheless aware of its mainstream acts in the 90s, including The Chemical Brothers, Massive Attack, The Prodigy, The Crystal Method and Fatboy Slim. (Much to my eventual dismay, I discovered Massive Attack’s Mezzanine far too late in life.) But what really caught my attention during this period was the voice of Beth Orton, who was an occasional guest singer for The Chemical Brothers early in their career.

Many acts based in electronica (indiscriminately) combined elements of pop, dance, funk, acid jazz, soul and even krautrock, but Beth Orton was the first to successfully blend it with folk. Her first two full-length albums (Trailer Park in 1996 and Central Reservation in 1999) were a perfect fusion of lilting acoustic instrumentation and delicate (sometimes disquieting) digital soundscaping that defied conventional classification. (Technically, SuperPinkyMandy was her debut album, but it had an extremely limited released only in Japan.) I’ve used several songs from these albums on many mixes over the years (starting with cassettes, then MiniDiscs/DATs, then blank CDs, then iTunes Playlists – yes, I’m that old.)

Orton released two more albums, Daybreaker in 2002 and Comfort of Stranger in 2006, but I didn’t quite connect to them as much as the first two. Starting with Daybreaker and fully realized in Comfort of Stranger, her song-stylings became more alt-folk and pop, and far less electronica. If it weren’t for her voice, there really wouldn’t be anything particularly remarkable, but what a voice it is – soulful, haunting and vulnerable with echoes of Dusty Springfield.

Orton’s next album is scheduled for end of 2009.

She Cries Your Name, Beth Orton.
Don’t Need A Reason, Beth Orton.
Sweetest Decline, Beth Orton.
Central Reservation, Beth Orton.



Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra sales unhealthy I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road and rebuild his retirement fund.

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s great cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, cialis buy sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, buy viagra medicine but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy cialis capsule I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, best viagra but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to eventually hit the road (and rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in Londo-Buy Here, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London-Buy Here, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, buy viagra cialis 40mg
I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, mind but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, advice the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
Leonard Cohen

Plato was a cool dude.  Sadly, viagra canada sovaldi sale I don’t remember much from the half dozen Philosophy courses in college, viagra generic but I never forgot Plato’s Symposium on the nature of love; in particular, the semi-satirical notion that man and woman were once a single being split into two and that, as a result, the purpose of love – the purpose of life – is to become whole again.  Whether you choose to embrace the romanticism or burp-vomit from the nauseating schmaltz, you cannot deny that one of the hallmarks of artistic expression throughout human history has been the examination of the relationship between man and woman (and man and man, and woman and woman, for that matter).

Leonard Cohen wrote songs that not only recognized the complexity of love and sex, but celebrated the entire spectrum from raw and painful to painfully ambiguous to rapturously joyful.  I saw him in concert last week for the first time, and it was glorious (I love this word, but rarely find the occasion to use it – so indulge me).  Much like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks tour last month, seeing Cohen in concert was an experience of a lifetime.  Thank goodness for his ex-manager, whose money-swindling activities forced Cohen out of seclusion from a Zen monastery to hit the road (and eventually rebuild his retirement fund.)

He thanked the audience before starting and then rather ominously said, “We may not pass this way again, so we promise to give you our all tonight.”  While the audience cheered loudly, I suspect we all knew what he meant.  For a 75 year old man, he was quite spry, gliding from one end of the stage to the other with each song.  In his dark suit and dark fedora hat, I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a Raymond Chandler version of Singin’ in the Rain would look like.  But that voice, that unmistakable baritone voice – both jolting and comforting at the same time – singing songs of love and despair is why we listen to Leonard Cohen.

It’s hard to believe a man of his age could put on a 3-hour concert, but I had a permanent grin from the opening Dance Me To The End Of Love to the closing Whither Thou Goest.  (The performance and setlist was nearly identical to that of his Live in London recording, so the songs below are from that concert.)

Since there are far too many songs that equally deserve to be highlighted, I have to ruthlessly pick just a handful for this post.

Dance Me To The End Of Love, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  If you assume the title suggests a standard love song, then you’d be wrong.

The Future, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I suppose it’s not surprising that Oliver Stone chose this song for the soundtrack to Natural Born Killers…

Bird On The Wire, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  Like so many other of his songs, Bird On The Wire has been covered many, many times.  Cohen’s version is still the best.

In My Secret Life, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  One of my favorite Cohen songs.

Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  I posted John Cale’s defining cover here.

I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen (from Live in London, 2009).  The title song from one of his best albums (despite its synthpop origins).
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, buy cialis order dare I say, tadalafil souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, capsule grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it a arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
There’s something mystifying and mystical about the reception of music in our brains and, generic viagra seek dare I say, viagra souls.  The need to dissect music – whether to reveal its core components, search grasp its meaning, or delineate its effects on peoples and societies – is understandable and inevitable, but is there a cost?  Is something lost in translation?  Does it invite music to transform itself from form to function?

Pandora (the creator of a music analysis algorithm that purports to find music you should like based on your input) was recently featured on The New York Times Magazine.  Don’t get me wrong, I actually like Pandora, but doesn’t such an automated service remove the mystique of music and its effect on an individual or group?  Selecting the music one likes and dislikes is an intensely personal decision that shouldn’t necessarily come so easily – or else this might happen:

[A Pandora executive] likes to tell a story about a Pandora user who wrote in to complain that he started a station based on the music of Sarah McLachlan, and the service served up a Celine Dion song. “I wrote back and said, ‘Was the music just wrong?’ Because we sometimes have data errors,” he recounts. “He said, ‘Well, no, it was the right sort of thing — but it was Celine Dion.’ I said, ‘Well, was it the set, did it not flow in the set?’ He said, ‘No, it kind of worked — but it’s Celine Dion.’ We had a couple more back-and-forths, and finally his last e-mail to me was: ‘Oh, my God, I like Celine Dion.’ ”

The irony of Pandora is that its core function (provide an unbiased examination of the  musical elements that comprise a song) is fundamentally contrary to the very nature of the formation of musical taste – the human factor ought not be removed. This is not to claim that Pandora doesn’t “work” (it often does), but rather that process and intentions matter when determining or refining taste.  Is it simply an agnostic clearinghouse for music classified into highly fine-tuned genres, or is it an arbiter of taste based on an algorithm?  If the latter, then what happens to the connection between artist and fan?

What’s that you say…?  Oh, right, just shut up and put up some MP3s.

For what it’s worth, I submitted one of my favorite tracks from one of my favorite albums of the decade…

Rise Up with Fists!!, Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins (from Rabbit Fur Coat, 2006). (In my desert-island mix.)

…into Pandora and got…

A History of Lovers, Calexico & Iron and Wine (from Into the Reins, 2005).
Turpentine, Brandi Carlile (from The Story, 2007).

I do like these tracks and actually own both albums.  However, I was exposed to these songs and artists through an organic process that allowed me to understand their history and their place in the music continuum.  And they weren’t just songs served on a silver platter simply by stating a preference, they were songs that revealed themselves in the context of an album.
http://www.spacepimping.com/graphics/myspace-happy-birthday-graphics/HappyBirthday62.jpg

On the occasion of Sabina’s birthday, buy cialis pilule I’m taking a break from my, cialis sale viagra uhm, break.

So, Sabina…

If this is turning out to be a good day, then Birthday by The Beatles.

If the day kinda sucks and you want it to suck a little more, then I Burn Today by Frank Black.

If you know the birthday of someone you hate, then send him/her Unhappy Birthday by The Smiths.

If you don’t see this post until tomorrow, then Happy Birthday Yesterday by Hayden (a Mark Mulcahy cover).
http://www.spacepimping.com/graphics/myspace-happy-birthday-graphics/HappyBirthday62.jpg

On the occasion of Sabina’s birthday, viagra usa treat
I’m taking a break from my, viagra uhm, sick break.

So, Sabina…

If this is turning out to be a good day, then Birthday by The Beatles.

If the day kinda sucks and you want it to suck a little more, then I Burn Today by Frank Black.

If you know the birthday of someone you hate, then send him/her Unhappy Birthday by The Smiths.

If you don’t see this post until tomorrow, then Happy Birthday Yesterday by Hayden (a Mark Mulcahy cover).

While I stubbornly chose to ignore all forms of electronica prior to, viagra sale buy uhm, best cialis cure actually listening to it (I know, aghast!), I was nonetheless aware of its mainstream acts in the 90s, including The Chemical Brothers, Massive Attack, The Prodigy, The Crystal Method and Fatboy Slim. (Much to my eventual dismay, I discovered Massive Attack’s Mezzanine far too late in life.) But what really caught my attention during this period was the voice of Beth Orton, who was an occasional guest singer for The Chemical Brothers early in their career.

Many acts based in electronica (indiscriminately) combined elements of pop, dance, funk, acid jazz, soul and even krautrock, but Beth Orton was the first to successfully blend it with folk. Her first two full-length albums (Trailer Park in 1996 and Central Reservation in 1999) were a perfect fusion of lilting acoustic instrumentation and delicate (sometimes disquieting) digital soundscaping that defied conventional classification. (Technically, SuperPinkyMandy was her debut album, but it had an extremely limited released only in Japan.) I’ve used several songs from these albums on many mixes over the years (starting with cassettes, then MiniDiscs/DATs, then blank CDs, then iTunes Playlists – yes, I’m that old.)

Orton released two more albums, Daybreaker in 2002 and Comfort of Stranger in 2006, but I didn’t quite connect to them as much as the first two. Starting with Daybreaker and fully realized in Comfort of Stranger, her song-stylings became more alt-folk and pop, and far less electronica. If it weren’t for her voice, there really wouldn’t be anything particularly remarkable, but what a voice it is – soulful, haunting and vulnerable with echoes of Dusty Springfield.

Orton’s next album is scheduled for end of 2009.

She Cries Your Name, Beth Orton.
Don’t Need A Reason, Beth Orton.
Sweetest Decline, Beth Orton.
Central Reservation, Beth Orton.



Autumn_Road

[Photo credit here]

It’s sad, cialis usa viagra really.  I wanted to put together a mix to fit the season, cialis usa troche but because my digital music library is so badly categorized and tag-less I literally have to skim through my entire collection in order to make mixes (especially mood mixes).  So since I don’t have the time to put together the full mix, I’ll set the tone by posting a few scattered songs, and hope that readers (yeah, all FOUR of you!) will fill in the blanks in the comments section.

Making a seasonal mix is all about mood.  Throw out lyrics, throw out artist intentions, throw out genre-classifications and just consider the mood it evokes. For me, the transitional period in between Autumn and Winter induces a subdued chill with a dose of wistful melancholy, or yearning (as opposed to the deep melancholy that the Winter Mix will surely highlight).

Without further ado, here’s Side A Track 1’s first installment of the Help Me Make A Mix series.  As for the art of making a mix, I have just two consistent rules: 1) On a relatively short mix, use no more than one song from any one artist, and 2) Try to match the instrumentation/vocals at the end of one track to the instrumentation/vocals at the beginning of the subsequent track (except where a hard transition is desired thematically).

Track 1: Orange Sky, Alexi Murdoch (from Time Without Consequence, 2006).  So many songs from this great album could have had the honor, but this one rises above the rest.  There’s a lingering warmth about the song that I completely love.

Track 2: ?

Track 3: Je Pense A Toi, Amadou & Mariam (from Je Pense a Toi: The Best of Amadou & Mariam, 2005).  I suppose they’re typically identified as the blind couple from Mali who make fusion-traditional music, but do yourself a favor and start your exploration with this wonderful Best Of album.  The violin and djembe (West African drum) sets a meditative tone on which the sparse electric guitar riffs evoke a palpable sense of longing.

Track 4: ?

Track 5: America, Simon & Garfunkel (from Bookends, 1968).  Doesn’t this song just make you want to go out into chill of late Autumn and explore?

Track 6: ?

Track 7: Whatevershebringswesing, Kevin Ayers (from Whatevershebringswesing, 1971).  I discovered Kevin Ayers only three years ago, and wow, this album was a complete revelation.  And the title track is richly rewarding.

Track 8: ?

Track 9: Girl From The North Country, Bob Dylan (from Nashville Skyline, 1969).  I like to imagine Bob and Johnny writing and performing this song on a misty, cloudy morning, under a mostly bare willow tree.  Yeah.

Track 10: ?

Track 11: Indian Summer, Beat Happening (from Jamboree, 1988).  How could I end an Autumn mix without adding a song called Indian Summer.  Fortunately, it also happens to be one of the greatest Indie songs of all time.

Posted in Mixes.