Meet Dr. Black

You drop your silver needle
into the canyon of my heart
You sleep the sleep of reason
you dress yourself in dark

You never left the ceremony
you never found your bliss
You sleep the sleep of reason
And forget what you have missed

Sha la la la la

There's an owl outside your window
And he plays an eldritch drum
Your nightmare dreams of heaven
And things you've left undone

There's an owl upon the bed stand
She wears Minerva's crown
Your nightmare dreams of heaven
And all the sh*t gone down

Sha la la la la (shoop, shoop)

Dr Black & Lady Midnight –
You think they know the score?
They're at the end of Boogie Street
But they don't live there any more.

You've your golden record
 And I've got my golden voice
Dr. Black is in his wheelhouse
And it seems you have no choice

You say the bed's gone crazy
And the bats have gone absurd
Dr Black is in his wheelhouse
But he never says a word.

Sha la la la la

You kneel before the altar
Where streams of honey flow
You've sacrificed your innocence
For things you'll never know

When you walked upon the water
Well, it was understood
You'd sacrifice your innocence
And enter the dark wood

Sha la la la la (shoop shoop)

Dr Black & Lady Midnight,
They seem to know the score –
They go whistling past the graveyard
But they don't work there anymore

It's the way we tell our stories
That tends to set our fate
You wander through the labyrinth
In lazy figure eights

I know your heart is spinning
Dr Black has got the cure
He'll lead you through the labyrinth
Where nothing's known for sure

Sha la la la la

You say you were a miner
There’s no diamonds in your mine
You’ve gathered all the laurels
The judges said were mine

And once you were a hunchback
Beneath your bed of snow
You gathered all the laurels
Down where the asphalt grows

Sha la la la la (shoop shoop)

Dr Black & Lady Midnight
They surely know the score
Down at the end of Boogie Street
It don't matter any more

You took the first position
in the mariotte parade
With your mistress and her lover
and her lovely chamber maid

Your father dreams in heaven
your mother's doing well
with your lover and your mistress
and the hermit in her cell

Sha la la la la

I'm the perfect imitation
of the man I'm meant to be
So I dance upon these stages
Believing I am free.

In the shadows of the evening
Where the saints are dressed in chains
You dance upon your stages
For the little that remains

Sha la la la la (shoop shoop)

Dr. Black & Lady Midnight
May want to know the score
Down at the end of Boogie Street
It don't matter any more

The structure of your innocence
It ain't too hard to see
as I kneel before you baby
and your fearless symmetry

Cause if I ever met you
I didn't catch your name
but I kneel before you baby
and I love you just the same

Sha la la la la

You drop a diamond needle
In the blackness of my heart
You sleep the sleep of reason
and you dress yourself in sparks

You never left the ceremony
You never found your bliss
You sleep the sleep of reason
And forget what you have missed

Sha la la la la (shoop shoop)

Dr Black & Lady Midnight
Can never know the score
Down at the end of Bookie Street
They don't live there anymore

Dr Black & Lady Midnight
They've got a place to dwell
Down at the end of Boogie Street
At the Mystery Motel

---

This pastiche of Leonard Cohen was inspired by a dream recounted in passing by Yosev Omed.  All he could remember was a new LP by L. Cohen titled Sleep the Sleep; "Meet Dr. Black" was the opening track for side two.

Zorba the Buddha

Recently finished reading an interview with Tom Robbins by Mara Altman. She asked him if there was anyone in his life he considered a mentor. "No one living," he said; then, went on:

Oh, maybe Leonard Cohen. Leonard Cohen is my hero. He’s like Zorba the Buddha. Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, the Indian guru ... who later changed his name to Osho, he had this notion of a character called Zorba the Buddha who — we’ll say a man, but it could be a woman too — who was contemplative, led a serene spiritual life, meditated a lot, was a nonviolent, placid person who lived in the spirit but who also knew how to work and make money, knew how to utilize the Internet, knew how much to tip a maître d’ in a Paris nightclub, who was of the world and enjoyed the world and all of its sensual pleasures in terms of food, sex, drink, color, art, but also at the same time was deeply spiritual. And I’ve kind of superimposed that Zorba the Buddha figure onto Leonard Cohen, perhaps unfairly, but he strikes me as someone who is close to that figure. I like the fact that he meditates, that he has spent time alone — a lot of it in anguish in a Buddhist monastery — that he is so adept with language and loves women and wears beautiful Armani suits and will sit and sip wine at a sidewalk café with beautiful girls and yet be able to have this rich inner life, not just creatively but also spiritually.

I remember Dr. Omed once telling me I needed to learn how to be in the world, but not of it. I imagine he meant something like this. Combining, as it were, the exuberance of Kazantzakis' Zorba with the supposed serenity of a Zen master.

Whether Leonard Cohen is that Zen master is another question. He's on the record of saying his interest in Zen was primarily motivated by the teacher, though he's also expressed an admiration for the strict discipline. I imagine he would be amused by Robbins' description, perhaps even flattered. He'd likely find it as amusing as his image as a lady's man.

For myself, it's my hope to live the words I pray. It's a daily struggle to practice the peace I seek. To find the joy in life, even in the darkness. I don't know that I have Zorba's lust for life, or the Zen master's discipline. I'm decidedly no lady's man, nor fashion plate. I'm a middle class guy, with no greater American dream than keeping my head above water while managing my consumer debt. I'm dazzled by things, and tempted by what they promise. I'm easily cut by the side-ways glance, or snide tone. I'm too nervous, too fearful, to wear the world as a loose garment.

Leonard wrote: “I practiced on my sainthood.” I think I know what he meant. My struggle and striving to live with integrity are that practice. It's not sainthood I seek, exactly: it's a spirit that is calm.

I'm no saint. I'm no Zorba. I'm certainly not Zen Master Cohen. I'm only Jac. I might as well begin with a song.

Hallelujah, with Ukulele

I recently read a biography of Leonard Cohen (I'm Your Man, Sylvie Simmons) which mentioned — off-handedly — that he plays uke. So it seemed a charming match.

I'm currently reading The Holy or the Broken by Alan Light, which is an exhaustive study of the growing popularity of this song. Aside from a discussion of record sales — a necessary evil — he talks about how each singer's interpretation brings something new to the song.

My interpretation, as is often the case, is a syncretic blend of other interpretations that have spoken to me. My aim is mix moments of innocence (an element of the Buckley interpretation, according to Light) with moments experience (Cohen's original and John Cage's cover).