Tag: Hallelujah

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Some Thoughts Upon Hearing Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” One Too Many Times

Some thoughts on the Leonard Cohen song, “Hallelujah”.

I think it should be sung at weddings,
but I’m sure many would disagree.
So maybe it should be sung
at divorces,
but what we need
is a corresponding sacrament to go with the divorce.
The couple marches into church from different directions
at different times
and meets at the front. Then they say, “I don’t”,
and smash wedding cake into each other’s face.
The guests take sides
and a food fight breaks out.
Everything in the church
is destroyed
and then the lawyers come in and present their bills. Counselors descend
upon all concerned
and advise them
to take off their clothes,
writhe on the floor, and make various gestures of affirmation and support for their preferred un-partner. Lastly, the florist
comes in
and heaves
a gigantic
bouquet upon the bride. While she’s is pinned to the floor,
kicking her feet into the air,
the groom slides a garter up her leg and the best man steals her ring. Then a dwarf in a top coat and a tutu
sings Hallelujah,
and all the guests sing Hallelujah
race over to the couples’ house
and sing Hallelujah
and take back their gifts.

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Notes on Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”

I believe the kitchen chair is an allusion to a woman’s attempt to domesticate a man, to get him to commit, to become part of her home, like the furniture, children, and appliances. She ties him to her kitchen chair: she holds him with her domestic hospitality, her nurturing love. But then she cuts his hair– takes away the strength he feels he has as a strong, independent man. But he says “hallelujah” because he loves her.

Seems to be a religious bifurcation here between those who see the “cold and broken hallelujah” and those who see the song as paean to the ultimate triumph of love. The key would be the last lines:

And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the lord of song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Seems you could have it both ways, but I think it means that John Cale’s interpretation is right: it’s a cold and lonely hallelujah. The sight of Bathsheba on the roof compels you to love, arouses the desire and unquenchable longing, but “love is not a victory march”– there is no final consummation that endures, but in the unquenchable longing is spiritual beauty, the ability of a human to cry out “hallelujah” no matter how broken his circumstances.

In a sense, is this a hymn to Cohen’s life as a rambling gypsy womanizer who never settled down?