REVIEW: Kevin Courtneydoffs his cap to Leonard Cohen who played the first of three nights in the Royal Hospital Kilmainham last night.
It was a most genteel affair, hosted by a perfect gentleman - the kind who doffs his fedora when greeting a lady, tilts his head slightly when applauded, and who is conscientious in his gratitude.
"It's a great honour to play for you, ladies and gentlemen," he tells his 10,000 guests assembled in the spacious grounds of the Royal Hospital Kilmainham. No, sir, it's a great honour for us to hear you perform. If we had brought our hats, we'd be doffing them to the gaunt, besuited gentleman who's songs have soundtracked the understated moments of our lives.
The first of Leonard Cohen's three-night run of Dublin concerts was like an evening out at the proms - champagne at the bar, falafels at the food counter, and the smell of cigar smoke wafting over the cool evening air.
There seems to be only one teenager in the whole venue - and he's busking Cohen songs for the entertainment of the food queue. Most of the people in the audience are old enough to remember hearing Suzannewafting over the airwaves for the first time, and hearing songs such as Bird On a Wireand Who By Firewill remind them of their own carefree youth, when they happily sung along to Cohen's mournful, regret-tinged lyrics, secure in the knowledge that they applied somebody else's lonely life.
The writer of those lyrics is now 74; he's a loser in love, breaking up with actress Rebecca De Mornay in the 1990s, and a loser in luck, having been brought to near ruin by an associate who siphoned off his money while Cohen was cloistered away in a Zen Buddhist monastery.
His financial straits may have driven the reclusive pop star back out on the road, but Cohen's loss is our gain - as we bask in the warmth of Cohen's rubbed-tobacco voice and feel an unbidden twinge of self-recognition in his stark word-pictures and candid couplets. He recites the lines of A Thousand Kisses Deep, then tells us what a privilege it is to read poetry "in this city of poets and singers".
Cohen's backing band, led by bassist Roscoe Beck, form a velvety sound cushion around Cohen's deeply intoned singing. Drummer Raphael Gayol, guitarist Bob Metzger and keyboard player Neil Larsen are finely tuned to Cohen's every nuance, and the backing singers - Cohen's co-writer Sharon Robinson and the Webb sisters, Charlie and Hattie - sigh and whisper their way around the melodies, tip-toeing gracefully around Cohen's flat, commanding baritone.
The bandurria, laud, archilaud and 12-string guitar playing of Javier Mas adds colour and texture to Take This Waltz(a song inspired by the poet Federico Garcia Lorca, Cohen informs us), while the wind instruments of Dino Soldo add a little bite to the crushed velvet smoothness. The sound system is beautifully balanced, allowing us to fully savour such familiar fare as Ain't No Cure for Love, I'm Your Man, Everybody Knowsand Tower of Song.
Cohen remains restrained throughout, letting his inner strength take the musical weight, and it makes for a consummate night of nostalgia. When he pushes his voice that extra yard for Hallelujah, his 10,000 guests rise as one in a standing ovation. Well, when you're in the presence of someone of such class and vintage, it's only good manners.