Leonard Cohen – Songs Of Leonard Cohen/ Songs From A Room/ Songs Of Love And Hate

To his listeners, Leonard Cohen has never not been old. It’s that stature that has always given him a special resonance: When rock fans of the boomer generation first discovered his austerely sung art songs, which with their unflappable European sensibility seemed like they were from another place and time, he was a one-man generation-gap-breaker, far cooler than your average adult.

In fact, he was, in his 30s, older than virtually all of the other artists riding the first wave of singer-songwriterdom, having established himself as a writer of novels, prose and verse. All these years later, oddly enough, we return to his early recordings to get younger, fleeing his scorched-earth vocals on “Dear Heather”, on which he truly does sound ancient, his longstanding method of counterbalancing his gravelly intonings with lovely young female voices now officially bust.

However aged Cohen is or has been at any given time, the songs on the Songs trilogy have a timeless and ageless power, even when they’re awash in ’60s countercultural meaning. Later on, he would go disco, sort of, and also sacrifice himself on Phil Spector’s altar of sound. In his early prime, left largely to his own devices, he imparted the rare vision of songwriter not as puppeteer pulling strings to create narrative and atmospheric effects, but as a medium who finds deep personal expression in channeling history and literature and religion and psychology. He was an existentialist lady’s man, forever striving to understand or remember love.

For devout Cohenites, these recordings will be an enjoyable, if not revelatory, homecoming. The bonus cuts are notable from a production perspective — John Simon keepers versus John Hammond outtakes on Songs Of Leonard Cohen, finished Nashville-made cuts by the underrated Bob Johnston versus earlier shelved Los Angeles versions by David Crosby on Songs From A Room.

But for intermediate Cohen listeners who know him mainly from “Suzanne” and “Bird On A Wire”, and perhaps have grown tired of those staples, getting a full dose will recharge their enthusiasm. Newcomers who know Cohen only from John Cale’s haunting rendition of “Hallelujah” in the movie Shrek may find his great “Joan Of Arc” and other songs steeped in the distant past as much of a departure from the norm as computer animation.

Back when Cohen sort of had a voice, he was, in his own way, as much crooner as troubadour: suave, if not swinging. For a songwriter as melodically challenged (or indifferent) as him, he had an unfailing ability to pump emotion by riding those swelling choruses and heaving strings. In the end, he’s all about intensity. Even when he’s doing the “Dress Rehearsal Rag”, the intensity is there, glowing darkly.