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Eighties’ best 100 redux: #81 Leonard Cohen “Everybody knows” (1988)

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When I was a teenager, I wanted to be Mark Hunter, aka “Hard Harry”. Much like the character portrayed by Christian Slater in the 1990 film “Pump up the volume”, I spent most of high school painfully shy and socially awkward. And though working with the high school drama club did draw me out of my shell, especially during my fourth and fifth years, I still identified with the character and found the story appealing.

In the film, the teenaged protagonist creates the persona of “Hard Harry” out of boredom and starts to broadcast a pirate radio show out of his parents’ basement. It starts out all fun, crude teen jokes and self-amusement, not knowing whether or not anyone was listening. But in truth, he was gaining listeners amongst his peers in his small, sleepy suburban town. During the shows, he reads and responds to letters that start to arrive in the P.O. box he sets up and things begin to turn serious when one of his listeners asks whether or not he should kill himself.

When it comes out the next morning that the listener actually went through with the suicide, things start to unravel. Mark realizes people are listening and that his words have weight and consequences. Of course, school staff, the police, and the FCC realize it too and the witch hunt begins. The rest of the movie is an internal struggle on whether to give it up or continue on, all with a love interest in Samantha Mathis (with dyed black hair) thrown in for good measure.

The reason I dredge up this long forgotten film treasure* today is because, amongst all the great music played and hinted at through shots of record spines and posters, the 1988 Leonard Cohen track “Everybody knows” was used by Mark Hunter as his show’s theme music and of course, the song was played prominently throughout the film**.

Leonard Cohen should need no introduction to most. The Montreal-born poet and folk singer/songwriter started his music career in the late 60s and he immediately contributed a number of future classics to the folk canon. In 1988, Cohen released his 8th studio album, “I’m your man”, which saw the musician further evolve his sound from his strictly folk and organic sound to something more austere and synthetic, allowing him to put even more emphasis on this words. “Everybody knows” was the fifth single to be released off “I’m your man” and was decently received at the time. But its use in “Pump up the volume” exposed the song and its performer to a wider audience. It certainly was my first exposure to Cohen, at least the first exposure that I was conscious of.

“Everybody knows” is five and a half minutes of haunting and driving synthesized strings and a seemingly synthesized Spanish guitar flitting about, while Cohen does his sing-speak poetry reading thing in his deep, deep voice. Frequent collaborator Sharon Robinson adds female backing vocals at the chorus, harmonizing and bringing a human touch to the otherwise, otherworldly sound. The words are intelligent and biting, as Cohen’s lyrics frequently are, marked by a repetition of the song’s title and what it actually is that everybody knows.

Original Eighties best 100 position: n/a

Favourite lyric: “Everybody knows that you’ve been faithful / Ah, give or take a night or two” Classic Leonard Cohen stuff.

Where are they now?: Leonard Cohen sadly passed away in 2016 at the age of 82 from many health issues.

*Long forgotten to likely many but not to me

**Instead of Cohen’s original version, the film’s soundtrack featured Concrete Blonde’s cover, which also played during the film’s closing credits.

For the rest of the Eighties’ best 100 redux list, click here.

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100 best covers: #46 R.E.M. “First we take Manhattan”

<< #47    |    #45 >>

I wrote about the very excellent Leonard Cohen tribute album, “I’m your fan”, back in 2020* when I was posting about Pixies’ cover of “I can’t forget”, which appeared at #71 on this list and was on the very same aforementioned compilation.

At the time, I had never heard R.E.M. covering anyone else (or at least, I thought I hadn’t), given I was a somewhat new convert, and this one blew my mind. Indeed, “First we take Manhattan” was one of my early favourites when listening to “I’m your fan” because the Athens, Georgia quartet was one of the only artists on it that I had heard before. The song appeared as track one on the North American release of the compilation, given R.E.M.’s increasingly high profile, but appeared as track 10 everywhere else in the world. I loved the raging and driving guitars and the contrast of Michael Stipe’s deadpan and austere delivery in the verses with the offset harmonies of the chorus. It was all very clear, though, and respectful of the words, allowing them their own space to breathe.

By the time I purchased Leonard Cohen’s “I’m your man” on CD a couple of years later**, I knew all the words by heart and could sing along with Mr. Cohen*** in his exploration on terrorism. And though I loved the poet’s deep voice and sing-speak delivery, I was less a fan of the instrumentation. Heavy on the synths and drum machine, it was definitely a product of its time and was maybe even a little late to the synthpop party. It definitely took me a little to get past that and for many years preferred the R.E.M. cover but I now can appreciate the version Cohen recorded for “I’m your man”.

Interestingly, though, his wasn’t the original recording of the song. That came two years earlier, care of frequent collaborator Jennifer Warnes, when she recorded it for her Cohen tribute album “Famous blue raincoat”. Hers is a much shorter version and more straightforwardly pedestrian than the versions I’ve already mentioned. To be honest, I only listened to it for the first time this past week while preparing to write this post because I suspected I wouldn’t be a fan and… well… I wasn’t wrong. Sure, it’s got Stevie Ray Vaughan on guitars but even those feel a bit wasted here and Warnes’ vocals a bit too cabaret for the subject matter.

So if we consider this last the original, I can definitely put my vote behind R.E.M.’s cover.

R.E.M.’s cover:

Leonard Cohen’s version:

Jennifer Warnes’ original recording:

*Right around the time that the world was deciding whether to shut its doors to take try to stem the rising COVID-19 tide.

**Incidentally, this was the first Leonard Cohen album I ever owned and purchased on the back of this song and “Everybody knows”, which I knew from the film, “Pump up the volume”.

***Yes, that’s right. I heard R.E.M.’s version before Cohen’s.

For the rest of the 100 best covers list, click here.

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Best tunes of 1992: #7 Leonard Cohen “Closing time”

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Believe it or not, “Closing time” was the song that first turned me on to Mr. Cohen: the poet, novelist, singer, songwriter, and Canadian Icon. I loved his voice right from the start and his easy sing-speak delivery and his cool demeanour. Shortly afterwards, I connected Cohen to that awesome song that Christian Slater’s character used to open his pirate radio show in the film, “Pump up the volume” and well, a lifelong love affair was born. I didn’t know this then but “Closing time” was one of two singles released off what would be the last album he recorded before entering a Buddhist monastery, touching off a prolonged break. “The future” is now considered a classic album in his catalogue but it was a struggle to create for the man from beginning to end.

“Ah we’re drinking and we’re dancing
and the band is really happening
and the Johnny Walker wisdom running high”

Around the time that “Closing time” was making the rounds on MuchMusic, I was taking a driver’s training class with Young Drivers of Canada. I was getting my license later than many of my friends, mostly to beat the implementation of graduated licensing (yes, I’m that old), and yeah, so many of those in the class were a few years younger than I was. I remember there being a teen girl in the class who wore a Leonard Cohen concert T-shirt to class one day and we all ribbed her to no end. Leonard wasn’t a “cool” choice amongst all the alt-rock kids but a few of us in the know, came to her defence after things got carried away. No one should have to pay for being a fan of Cohen. I’m sure all those kids know that now as adults.

“All the women tear their blouses off
and the men they dance on the polka-dots
and it’s partner found, it’s partner lost
and it’s hell to pay when the fiddler stops”

It was also around that time that my older brother Andrew came back to live at home for a while. After years of living in the States, he had been indoctrinated into listening to Country music, yes, he wore cowboy boots and the whole bit. Interestingly, “Closing time” got its hooks into him, perhaps it was the fiddle, which was part of what got its hooks into me. Unfortunately, though, that meant that the cassette tape I had this on was always in the player and he would replay it to the point where I was almost sick of it. Then, he would drag me out with him to country bars to pick up women, none of whose companions I was ever remotely interested in, and then, drunkenly sing the few lines he knew of “Closing time” over and over again as we were staggering home in the early hours of the morning.

“Yeah we’re drinking and we’re dancing
but there’s nothing really happening
and the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night
And my very close companion
gets me fumbling gets me laughing
she’s a hundred but she’s wearing
something tight”

I only recently learned that “Closing time” is Leonard Cohen’s love poem to Toronto’s famous dive/after hours bar, The Matador, sadly now defunct (though I hear plans to resurrect it are in the works). I have only ever been to the Matador once in my life and that was on my friend Tim’s birthday, probably more than a decade ago now. We were all rather drunk already, which made a surreal experience all the more surreal. Nobody seem to know its precise address but the mere mention of the name to the cab driver got us all there without incident. Once there, we stood in line for an unknown amount of time but I distinctly remember our friend Mark saying to me, “If they ask you if you’re a cop, just say ‘no’.” There are plenty more stories that I could tell of that evening inside The Matador but I’ll leave those for another evening over beers. Let’s just say that when closing time actually rolled around, we stumbled out blinking in the morning sun and into waiting cabs bound for our beds.

For the rest of the Best tunes of 1992 list, click here.