Bird’s Eye: Two superb Jewish musicians have new albums out, and you’re urged to take a listen. Daniel Kahn (and the Painted Bird) is the only musician I know of who has rabbis writing about his lyrics, but “Inner Emigration”, (a term originally used for Germans who opposed Hitler, but stayed in Germany), has the most interesting lyrics of any song I’ve heard this millennium. The Guardian interviews Leonard Cohen about his new album, “Old Ideas”, while in “Old Friends, Old Ideas”, I contrast Cohen’s new work to Paul Simon’s “Afterlife” and recent Bob Dylan.
* March of The Jobless Corps Daniel Kahn and The Painted Bird YouTube
From Daniel Kahn & The Painted Bird’s album “Lost Causes”. Original Yiddish song by Mordechai Gebirtig, written ca. 1930 in Krakow.
* (Read Lyrics to) Daniel Kahn On “Inner Emigration” Rabbi Brant Rosen Shalom Rav
I’ve sung the praises of Daniel Kahn and the Painted Bird before; my favorite “Punk Cabaret, Radical Yiddish, Gothic, American Folk, Klezmer Danse Macabre” band. Been listening a lot to their latest album, “Lost Causes” – particularly a brilliant ditty called “Inner Emigration.” This song is simultaneously a meditation on identity politics, a treatise on the absurd reality of national borders, but ultimately, I think, a blistering diatribe against the way we all assent to our own inner/outer oppression. It’s also catchy as hell.
* (Hear song halfway down page) Daniel Kahn and the Relevance of Yiddish Protest Songs – The Arty Semite – The Jewish Daily Forward
The sentiments of these Yiddish songs and the intimations of their contemporary relevance come to a crescendo in the album’s centerpiece, “Inner Emigration.” It is Kahn’s own song that tells a tale of withdrawal from surrounding society, tuning out its problems and suppressing their effect on one’s spirit. One verse is about a German Jewish woman who chose to stay in late 1930s Germany because of her cabaret career; another verse is about a Ukrainian Jew who let go of his aspirations in the face of danger: “What’s the bother finding a new nation? A border isn’t art, it’s just a frame / Just make a secret inner emigration. / The holy land and exile are the same.” Yet another verse is about an Israeli woman married to a Palestinian refugee: “She and he comprise a kind of nation, the kind we build inside when we’re alone. / But if they just make Inner Emigrations, / then they’ll only have a home when they’re at home.”
* Leonard Cohen: ‘All I’ve got to put in a song is my own experience’ The Guardian
Leonard Cohen: ‘All I’ve got to put in a song is my own experience’ Sombre prophet, mordant wisecracker, repentant cad: On Leonard Cohen’s gruelling 1972 world tour, captured in Tony Palmer’s documentary Bird on a Wire, an interviewer asked the singer to define success. Cohen, who at 37 knew a bit about failure and the kind of acclaim that doesn’t pay the bills, frowned at the question and replied: “Success is survival.” By that reckoning, Cohen has been far more of a success than he could have predicted….
These days, Cohen rations his one-on-one interviews with the utmost austerity, hence this press conference to promote his 12th album, Old Ideas, a characteristically intimate reflection on love, death, suffering and forgiveness. After the playback he answers questions. He was always funnier than he was given credit for; now he has honed his deadpan to such perfection that every questioner becomes the straight man in a double act. Claudia from Portugal wants him to explain the humour behind his image as a lady’s man. “Well, for me to be a lady’s man at this point requires a great deal of humour,” he replies.
* Old Ideas, and Old Friends Peter Marmorek
And what of Cohen? He starts with “Going Home” a song from the point of view of God, who is musing about Leonard Cohen. (You can hear it here). God says, “I love to speak with Leonard/ He’s a sportsman and a shepherd/ He’s a lazy bastard/ Living in a suit.” I sympathize with God; I’ve often felt that way about Leonard Cohen. I’ve enjoyed, and sometimes loved, much of his work since discovering his first poetry in the mid sixties. But I’ve been painfully aware of the extent to which almost all his work follows the same structural pattern: an assertion of the magnificence of love or passion of a transcendent nature, followed by an elegant apology for the impossibility of maintaining that stance. It has felt like watching a great actor whose career has been built upon variations of a single character. As opposed to say, Randy Newman, (a sixty-eight year old Jewish singer and songwriter) whose characters are anyone but himself, one always feels that Cohen is singing about being Leonard Cohen, or of wearing the mask of Leonard Cohen.
Perhaps that is what makes “Going Home” so powerful. The chorus, sung by an ethereal choir (Sharon Robinson and the Webb Sisters) anticipates a time when he can lay that style aside and go home (“Going home/ Without my burden/ Going home / Behind the curtain/ Going home/ Without the costume/ That I wore”). After God saying how much He loves to speak with Cohen, the second song, “Amen” offers us Cohen begging God to speak to him, to tell him he is wanted. It’s a powerful and dramatic confrontation of two songs. (Listen to “Amen” here.) In the song, Cohen itemizes the horrors of the world, begging to hear God’s voice “when I’m clean and I’m sober” to reassure him he is loved.