The Triumph of the Old - old blokes part 2

Highlight of a fine sunny day (yes, at Glastonbury – weird!) is this long-term pensioner who doesn’t actually appear old and is possibly performing at a level higher than he has achieved in his much-acclaimed past. With a very tightly-knit backing band and fine sound quality Leonard Cohen (for it is he) had the audience in his hand and treated us all to a lesson in how you take a massive crowd without shouting at them. He played his hits from the early bed-sit suicidal student years (the listeners rather than him) through to the blatant “he’s having a laugh isn’t he?” songs which encompassed a thundering, crowd-silencing version of Hallelujah. His original recorded version of this has been left way behind following Jeff Buckley’s rightly lauded reappraisal and various other solid improvements (Rufus Wainwright, kd lang) but his performance here reclaimed it as his own and left all other pretenders in a way distant zone. Breathtaking.
And a final mention for the true fan standing right by me (oh, so too close) who insisted on singing along woefully off-key and occasionally well off on the words too (how many times do you need to hear a chorus to identify that you’re version is not the same as Lenny is singing? More than we covered in So Long Marianne on this occasion that’s for sure). But no matter, Leonard was fantastic and all those of you who weren’t there and raged at him for not agreeing to the BBC coverage, sorry, you should have bought a ticket. A contender for event of the year (in any year).

And so to another man who appears infrequently (but not forced out this time because his manager’s legged it with all his money) to mass adulation from fans and critics alike and is keen that his tickets do not appear on ebay either. Thanks to eagle-eyed attentiveness several months in advance, tickets for Tom Waits’s Edinburgh show ( only appearance in the UK, first time in Scotland in 21 years, second in Britain for four years so perhaps not so rare) were procured and travel arrangements duly, well, arranged with dear old easy jet. Which was just as well as passports had to be shown to match the name on the ticket (mine as opposed to Tom Waits, he got in OK without it). So lots of excitement on a July evening in Scotland (i.e. drizzly and no decent beer to be had for miles). The Playhouse is a fun venue, full of stuffing and looking like a music hall venue with a good atmosphere. The vast majority of the crowd were dyed in the wool fans snapping up the memorabilia – programmes, posters etc – before taking their seats in anticipation. Half an hour later (in an attempt to appear youthful? Most older performers seem to turn up bang on time so that they can get their post-show ovaltine and stilll be in bed before news at ten) the man appears to huge acclaim, milking the audience to applaud more – which they do, banging his foot on a massive drum laid out as a stand for him and covered in powder to billow out with every boom. Showmanship for sure but that’s what he is, and a fine one too. Anyway, backed by his small, tight band (featuring his son at one point) he stomped and hollered and played with the audience sounding somewhere not too far from Captain Beefheart (which is certainly a good place to be even if not particularly crowded), directing the band and audience with stunning and rearranged renditions of great chunks of his back catalogue, most of which I couldn’t recognise but it all provoked much discussion after the show amongst fans so I wasn’t alone. An excellent evening’s entertainment for everyone – Tom seemed to be enjoying himself too – which seems all too rare these days (Van Morrison could certainly learn from it). Another surefire contender for show of the year (maybe the award should be split between indoor and outdoor shows).