Dear Mr. Cohen,
I tried to avoid knowing what you were going to deliver last
night. From my friends who went in London, Kingston, and the night before in
Ottawa I heard things like, "
satiated, post-coital" and "
...best 3.5 hour concert
of my life" and "
I cried."
Even with only those three reports, I kind of
expected to be
blown away.
In a world full of disappointment, I
thank-you for
delivering the goods. The tears welled by the third song,
Bird on a Wire. I've
never felt particularly close to that song until I heard it sung from your
lips. I'm at the age you were when you wrote it. It
felt like an
everyman's song and my heart felt like it was wrapped tight in a tensor
bandage.
Those
post-oyster feelings came with the recitation of
1000
Kisses Deep. Your voice, it's something else.
Sometimes
the very best musicians are not those that rattle
triplets on the snare or whose fingers fly across the strings or keys shredding
notes like scissors. They're those that can, quietly and understatedly,
create a
frame for some of the most perfect words ever assembled into verse in the
English language. You found the band, you're their man.
You are a dignified gentleman who donated time for each of
those musicians to take a turn in the spotlight and showcase their prowess, at
which point
you removed your hat and then graciously bowed to them in deference
afterward. You even took time to thank your drivers and the lighting guy. You
are Classy with a capital C.
To anyone reading this in the States or anywhere your tour
takes you next,
GO see this man. Mr. Cohen, you make it very worth the price of admission,
and then some.
Sincerely, your fan and humble appreciator,
Amanda C. Putz
(ps. Yes, I bought the t-shirt. The ticket is my bookmark now.)
