part 1 . part 2

The creative process remains a mystery for most of us. It's not likely anyone, especially the artist, can lift the curtain and reveal all to the curious audience. Still, there are those on the inside, observing an artist's mystery first-hand with a special knowledge and understanding. Anjani is just such an insider. Not only has she given us a glimpse of Leonard's magical mystery tour but she does so from the vantage point of having created a few of her own. It has been a privilege to have Anjani as my tour guide as we've explored some of Leonard's mysteries.

Marie Mazur
Speaking Cohen &
The Leonard Cohen Concordance

At that time I was dating Ian Terry, former head engineer at Studio Tempo in Montreal. When Leonard heard that I was living part time in Montreal, he called me to work on this project. That led to Ian recording all the vocals for "Ain't No Cure For Love," "I'm Your Man," "Jazz Police," and "First We Take Manhattan." Jeff Fisher's use of synthesizers and drum programming created an edgy, techno vibe on those tracks. It was a marked departure from the mellower, folk-country feel of Leonard's previous work.

These sessions occurred during a typically brutal Montreal winter. Whereas Leonard in the throes of depression nursed a bottle of Bordeaux, I was still under the impression that enlightenment would occur at any moment from my vigilant practice of TM. As you can imagine, we were a woeful lot.

When I told Leonard about this interview, he recalled a scene with Ian, who ruled the SSL recording console with an iron hand. Leonard was listening to a playback of his lead vocal, which he liked to hear prominently in the mix. Ian protested it was too loud, and wouldn't turn up the volume. Leonard kept asking for a bit more, until Ian acidly responded, "No, Leonard. I can't do it. There's just no way this will sound balanced."

I am notorious for tuning out the world when I'm reading a book, which is what I was doing during this exchange. But some sixth sense alerted me to the tenseness of the situation, because I blurted, "For crying out loud, Ian...bring up the fader and give him what he wants!"

After an uncomfortable silence, Ian acquiesced, and the session continued with no further problems. Leonard said it was then I endeared myself to him forever, for interceding at that very moment when he was about to lose his mind.

Q: "Jazz Police"--do you know the true story behind this song?

That was the only cut where Jeff wrote out a part for the background vocals on the chorus. It's kind of Manhattan Transfer-meets-Star Trek. As for the lyrics, I had no idea what they meant, and can't remember what Leonard's explanation of it was back then. When I asked him recently to clarify it for me, he said, "'Jazz Police' is a lighthearted look in the post-modernist style, on judgment of any kind in all art forms. I recall it felt surreal while I was writing it--the choruses were trying to wiggle away from being crushed by the boot of judgment."

I sure hope that clears it up for all you fans out there.

Q: What do you think of this record, now a landmark in Cohen's career?

"Take This Waltz" would be the crowning achievement in any artist's resume. I think it ranks among the greatest adaptations of poem to song. I've always thought Leonard deserves more popular acclaim than he's received. So I'm honored to be on this record that he claims, revived his career. He was extremely cordial and willing to let me try things in different ways.

Leonard loves a wall of harmony achieved by tripling the background vocal parts. It took less than two months to complete those four tracks. And for Leonard, that is working at the speed of light.

In summation, we just did what artists do--create art despite mental anguish. And we ate well. I'm the kind of person who wonders what's for dinner while she's eating lunch. Fortunately, Leonard tolerates this passion, so there was no bad take-out to endure. Excellent pomme frittes near the studio...gold standard Montreal bagels and smoked meat sandwiches at Moishe's Deli (by that time, I was way past vegetarianism).

Q: The Future contains a couple of songs including "Democracy," that take a strong social position. Did you find this unusual based on your previous work with Leonard?

Social conscience is a subtle motif in "Coming Back To You," (They're shutting down the factory now/just when all the bills are due), "The Night Comes On," (We were fighting in Egypt/when they signed this agreement/that nobody else had to die) and "Everybody Knows," to name a few.

There's a great quote from Dante Alighieri: "The hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in time of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality."

No problem there for Leo. When I lamented the erosion of moral and social structures that keep civilization united, Leonard replied, "Like I always said--I've seen the future, and it's murder."

Few articulate the truth as poignantly and astutely as he does; and he is prescient. At the time of its release, people thought "Democracy" was one hell of a grim tune. As with many of his songs, odds are good that ten or twenty years later some other artist will reintroduce it or rip it off successfully into pop culture (i.e. The Sopranos theme).

Q: Leonard once stated that the most difficult part of writing is the beginning, the middle, and the end. Can you relate to this dilemma?

I've seen Leonard twist so much over one line, that it's a bit painful to witness. I could never come up with seventy versions of a song like he did for "Democracy." It wouldn't occur to me to write more than I needed. My brain would go, "Five verses, we're done! Tea time! Shoe sale! Facial!" Historians will have a field day if they ever get a hold of his drafts, which are voluminous. Any writer would be ecstatic to produce the pages Leonard discards. He'll take an idea that's been baking in a drawer for twenty years, and if it isn't absolutely airtight after months of toil, he'll stow it away and check in on it from time to time. He's very patient that way.

Whereas, when I hit a wall a few times, I used to take it as a sign from the universe to drop it. Seeing what Leonard puts himself through has made me devote much more time to the creative process than I used to. And I save an idea I would have jettisoned previously if there weren't immediate results. Frankly, I'm lazy. I'll wake up and fall back asleep two or three times each morning just to relive the experience. When I was berating myself for not pushing myself harder despite an intense fatigue; Leonard calmly said, "Anjani, you must rest. You just finished doing a record, which is a tremendously stressful undertaking. You're from the islands where people lay on the beach and sip cocktails. You really have the right idea. I wish I could write that easily, because I'm lazy by nature too. Instead, I have to force myself into the dungeon of rhyme and sweat it out." After hearing that, I felt much better about escaping to Hawaii for a month to recuperate.

Q: You worked with Leonard on a song called "Villanelle for Our Time," which was played in Montreal at the 2000 Cohen Event. What did Leonard tell you he wanted and how did you accomplish that?

"Villanelle for Our Time" is a poem by the late F. R. Scott, one of Leonard's professors at McGill University. Leonard was asked to participate in a tribute to Scott, and he elected to compose a track around this poem. I usually don't hear the material before a session, and Leonard has never told me what to sing. He was in a most agreeable mood, having just left Mt. Baldy after a five year stay. And this was the most spontaneous, easy session I'd done for him. Leanne rolled the tape and I sang a few ideas and built it from there. My parts took just a couple hours to record. I don't take credit for the inspiration; it's more like it occurs and I claim the idea.

Q: Leonard's voice has changed quite a bit since you first started working with him. How has that changed your performances on his songs?

Our voices are poised an octave apart these days, now that his range has dropped from smoking, and mine has dropped from age. This means it's easier to stack harmonies in the lower registers, versus higher intervals like those on "Jazz Police."

Q: What is your favorite Cohen song? Can you give us some hint about the songs on his next studio album?

I can't single out one song, as different ones hit me in different moods. The last track from the new record has been droning through my brain all week. This collection is, in my opinion, the best work of his career--well worth the wait.

Q: Leonard has his own studio now, can you describe that for us?

The studio has lots of windows with sunlight streaming through. It's furnished with lovely Art Deco pieces from an antiques shop owned by his daughter, Lorca.

Leonard has a fully equipped ProTools set up, with a few synthesizers and a great old tube microphone. He was one of the early proponents of Casio and Technics keyboards. In the 80's, they had awful, cheesy sounding patches, but the built-in rhythm presets made them easy to write on. They certainly weren't meant for serious players. I encouraged Leonard to try a "pro" line of keyboards like Kurzweil or Roland. But he'd always reply that he wasn't a real musician--he only became a singer because there was no money in poetry. Besides, he actually liked the tinny sound of those instruments. So much so, they ended up all over his records.

He had the last laugh, because my 80lb. Kurzweil is too heavy for me to carry, so it's parked at Ed's studio. Leonard loaned me one of his Technics to use at home. I was stymied by the thing--it took me a few minutes to just find the on/off switch. Its got a thousand options for combining sounds and rhythms to get stuff like electric piano-Jazz-Samba or guitar-bass-Reggae. Only problem is, the mapping of buttons and knobs is so confusing and illogical that Leonard is one of the only guys in the world who knows the axe intimately. He's even invited to the Technics demonstrations for new models. Needless to say, I'll never make fun of his rig again.

Q: What is the biggest misconception people have about Leonard Cohen?

That he's not a great shopper. Leonard has impeccable taste. He also knows it's best to shop when you don't need anything...and hit Thrifty's for ice cream.

Q: Who would've thought?

Yeah well, most everyone assigns his writing and music, along with the interviews and reviews--to an image of poet, musician, intellectual, icon, what have you. There is a lot of public rumination over his life and the deeper meaning to his work. A few seem to think I might have some insight into it because I've sung with him. I laughed when I was recently asked what I thought of his lyrics for "Waiting For The Miracle." Truth is, I vaguely remember my parts now, and I totally forgot the verses he sang very soon after leaving the session.

Don't get me wrong--I'm not making light of Leonard's contribution to art, which I've already stated is substantial. But I was hired to sing a song, and when it was done I was done with it. Leonard knows what I mean. He's not overly attached to his work either...because it's just a gig, you know? If you obsess about it it could ruin your appetite, and that would be really dreadful (laughs).

Q: You're passionate about food...what about Leonard?

He's the ultimate host, and very adept in the kitchen. He makes a fine chicken soup, pasta, curry, latkes and blintzes with apple sauce and sour cream. He also makes the best hotdog in the world: kosher on a perfectly toasted bun...it's a thing of beauty.

Dining is one of the great pleasures in life. I worked for a while as a chef, and now I can't seem to cook a single serving size meal. If you looked in my refrigerator you'd think ten people must live with me. It's some Cancerian trait to be able to throw a party on a whim. I admire my sister, who will make a shepard's pie and eat it for an entire week. Not me. I'm doing my part to bolster the economy through extensive restaurant testing. Sad to say, lousy meals happen all too frequently in establishments across America.

The good news is a slice of chocolate cake can salvage a mediocre dinner and avert an emotional crisis. I eat dessert everyday. I try to satisfy half of my sugar cravings at the health food store, in the hope of preserving what's left of my pancreas. The rest of the time I'm mainlining Krispy Kremes, malted milk balls, whatever. On my desk right now is a roll of apricot fruit leather from Greece, a half eaten bag of oatmeal-raisin cookies (Uncle Eddie's vegan brand--delicious) and chocolate coated macadamia nut caramels.

Q: What's the best advice Leonard ever gave you?

"Don't worry, it's not your fault."

A couple of years ago when I was in a spiritual twist, Leonard gave me a few books by Sri Ramana Maharshi, Nisargadatta Maharaj, and Ramesh Balsekar. Their beliefs ran so counter to what I thought at the time. They discounted karma and free will (there is only God's will). Ramesh stated it was futile to purposely seek the state of consciousness described as enlightenment; because "...the sage has the total, absolute conviction that neither he nor anyone else is the doer of any action, that all action is the divine happening through some body-mind organism and not anything 'done' by anyone."

Surprisingly, contentment arises from accepting that you have no direct influence upon your situation; because it's God's play and God is directing and acting all the parts. What you experience is manifesting exactly as written by the Hand that Guides. There is no individual fault to assign or personal doership involved, as everything in existence is an element/extension of God.

It's like a boat ride at Disneyland. You may think you're steering the vessel because you feel it responding when you turn the wheel. But the wheel is not attached to the rudder, it's just there for you to pretend you're at the helm! The ride is preplanned and at no time will you stray off-course.

This doesn't imply you have to like what's happening in your life or that you don't do what you can to improve the situation. But this awareness can help you to accept your state of affairs with equanimity, without assigning blame or guilt to it.

It took me a while to assimilate this information and let go of my spiritual aspirations for something more grandiose. It also dawned on me the more plans I made for the future, the more apt they were to fall apart. Conversely, if I encountered a persistent desire and said to myself, "Thy will be done," more often than not it would spontaneously, effortlessly happen. Eventually, I was quite relieved to stop thinking about my evolution as if I had some say so in the matter. I began to enjoy the immense gift of life without feeling guilty about it or wondering if there was something more I should be doing.

We are trained from birth to nurture our individuality/ego. For most souls, the spiritual path is not a major cause for concern. But some become disillusioned with the status quo, enough to search for something more. Of those seekers, very few will come to accept not being in control of anything or anyone, much less themselves. Strangely enough, that surrender is what leads to ultimate freedom, because there truly is nothing to do or control! When you step off the merry-go-round and stop looking to have some influence on the scene, all you are, all you experience is God everywhere, in all creation.

I was deeply affected by this revelation...that as far as the spiritual experience goes, the individual doer has nothing to do with it. Along with a few cosmic insights, that realization mitigated the (self-imposed) pressure to seek. I wish I could explain this dynamic half as eloquently as Ramesh does, so if any of this is resonating within you, pick up one of his books.

Q: Do you and Leonard discuss each other's work?

At times. Many people who aren't artists judge the validity of art by its commercial success. With no health insurance, benefits or IRA's accruing, most indie musicians are in a constant state of flux, striving to create art while juggling bills and gigs. And since the creative muse doesn't keep to any 9-5, Monday through Friday schedule, you're also dealing with a little fear over whether she'll show up at all.

When I finished The Sacred Names, Leonard reminded me that the marketplace has no bearing on the merit and beauty and significance of the music. This much I know: whether ten people "get it" or a million do, it remains an authentic recording of something rare and divine.

Q: That really makes me want to hear your new album, The Sacred Names. I know you had to have been in a good place to produce it.

Well yes, considering at one point I wondered if I would ever entertain a creative thought again. In 1993, I pulled out of a unfavorable record deal on a fusion jazz label. I was so tired of the music business, confused about my direction in life, and disenchanted with Maharishi's claims about spiritual evolution (I still have utmost respect for his teacher, Guru Dev, a Vedic Master in the Shankaracharya lineage). At that time I still believed enlightenment was attainable; I just couldn't find a legitimate guide to help me achieve it.

Leaving LA for Austin, TX helped me to heal and reassess my station in life. I got a job in a jewelry store, bought a house near Town Lake, and had the kind of normal life that gypsy musicians always wonder about. I explored Western teachings and Christian churches, studying everything from Gnosticism to Mysticism and Kabbalah.

But I wasn't meant to savor that domestic bliss for very long. On a trip to Hawaii in the summer of 1997, I wrote "Here and Now" and "Angel By Your Side," plus a collection of songs with a devotional focus. It was the first wave of musical inspiration I'd felt in ages. I was motivated enough to move back to LA and record those first two songs, along with a few I'd been carrying around since the 1980's. That led to Anjani, which was released in May 2000.

I was at Leonard's house one day last September, when I picked up a guitar and sang "Kyrie"--one of the hymns I'd written in 1997. It's a song of praise with Hebrew, Greek, Aramaic, and Latin names of God. He asked me to play it about five more times, then urged me to do a demo of it. That song led to another, and it evolved into The Sacred Names, an acoustic project with thick vocal harmonies. I ended up doubling myself 22 times on "Kyrie," with 6-part harmonies and contra-harmonies. God knows how it happened, not me.

Q: Do you enjoy the recording process?

Love it. I could happily spend weeks at a time barricaded in a studio. I prefer to record the old fashioned way, which means everything goes on 2" tape, versus digitally. Ed Sanders has one of the last classic Harrison consoles and a Telefunken multitrack. This analog setup is particularly wonderful for making vocals sound smooth and silky. You'll understand what I mean when you hear the record.

I used to have a home studio, and was proficient in Performer (a music software program); but I spent too much time tweaking each bar of every song. The process was neither creative or musical, just painstakingly perfect, as most canned music is. When I lost most of a track to a computer glitch, I gave the setup away. There's enough for me to do with writing, arranging, producing and performing. Plus, recording downtown at Ed's gives us an excuse to chow down on scallion pancakes at Mandarin Deli.

Q: What about you, what are you up to these days?

I'm rehearsing alone until I am claimed by the right bassist and guitarist and percussionist for this material. The music demands a sacred space and an attentive audience. I hope to do some gigs and maybe a tour if one should arise. A few ideas for a follow up record to The Sacred Names have come to mind, but I'm no hurry to set them down. And I'm also working on a book of observations, of which the hardest part is inventing all sorts of believeable deadlines to finish it.

Q: Any chance Leonard will work with you on your next CD?

We would like to work on a project together. But we've both recorded two albums in the last two years, so some kind of rest is in order.

Q: From all indications, Mr. Cohen is no longer crawling on the carpet trying to find a word that rhymes with orange.

Leonard has always been sagacious and witty. Now he's also genuinely content. By some miracle of grace, the depression lifted for both of us around five years ago. Don't know why--could've been a clerical decision upstairs; but two distressed souls became rather cheerful observers. Unless you've suffered from depression, you have no idea what it means to wake up and suddenly view life as a beautiful, miraculous gift. Humility arises with such good fortune. I'm very aware of how lucky I am to be here, listening to Bill Evans on this Friday afternoon.

Q: Getting the hang of life doesn't always happen gracefully, does it?

Apparently not! But the bumps in the road are enlightening, and the roadblocks keep one humble. And there's always popsicles and ice cream to take the edge off. I'm not sure why music chose me as a messenger, because I'm such an introvert. I value silence and stillness and smooth sailing. Don't have a TV, don't read the papers, don't go out to clubs...but I am content with my lot. And I'm blessed to have Leonard in my life. A few words from a kind friend can be as enlightening as revelations from the most sacred texts.