I have just turned down $15,000 worth of concerts [in 1968] because I didn’t want to do them. The presence of the money in the whole enterprise has been having a sinister magical effect on me. It meant doing something false to myself. It’s not that I have anything against prostituting myself. I think prostitutes are important and valuable. But what use is a prostitute if she can’t excite a man? What use am I as a musical prostitute if I can’t get across to an audience? What they’re asking me to do out there is to impersonate myself, night after night. And I’m such a bad actor I’m not really interested in the gig. I’m not a great performer. Right now I feel rather like I did when I finished my novel, as if an episode in my life has finished. At the end of the book, I knew I wouldn’t write another because I’d put everything I had into that one. I’m still writing songs, but if I find I have nothing else to say that’s new I shall probably stop.
From Leonard Cohen: Songwriter Who Got Into Folk By Accident by Karl Dallas, Melody Maker, Feb 17, 1968. Photo from York University Libraries, Clara Thomas Archives & Special Collections, Toronto Telegram fonds, F0433, Photographer: John Sharp, ASC01709.
I am republishing selected posts from my former Leonard Cohen site, Cohencentric, here on AllanShowalter.com (these posts can be found at Leonard Cohen). This entry was originally posted Feb 22, 2018.