Dunstan Playhouse
Sat 20 June, 2026
Like many others my younger self found Leonard Cohen’s early music rather dirge-like. I had a friend who bought a Cohen album but needed to wait till he was in a fit mental state before he could listen to it. Cohen used to laugh at comments describing his songs as ‘music to slash your wrists by’ and thought some people failed to see the distinction between seriousness and depression. Cohen knew about subtlety and nuance. As do the members of Monsieur Camembert in this magnificent tribute to Cohen’s life and work.
Monsieur Camembert are a ten-piece gypsy jazz band from Sydney that have re-arranged a collection of Cohen classics and label the whole project as Cohen Noir, so bleak is in there for those who go looking. But on the whole this concert was an uplifting celebration of a hugely important artist. It was all about the soul – finding that place in each of us where the songs touch you most deeply. Where the music, the words, and the emotion all come together and resonate deep inside you. I had heard reports before of multiple people weeping at Cohen concerts, and though Leonard himself has left the table, he was there tonight in these loving renditions of his songs and poetry. And I cried. These beautiful songs that reflect on life in all its complexity and wonder, its sadness and joy, of birth and death and the genuine search for truth amid failure and despair. And the band’s musical arrangements allowed all this to happen.
The band’s respect and admiration for Cohen’s work was evident in everything they did – yes subtle, nuanced. Delicate. But often also upbeat and brassy. A series of guest vocalists added variety and surprise but it turned out that the star of the show was sitting in the back row playing violin. When Susie Bishop stepped forward to deliver the vocal on Famous Blue Raincoat the world just stopped. She lived and breathed that song as her own with oozing passion and superb control before a soul-stirring sax solo just blasted the whole song into another realm. Extraordinary music.
Another of the guest vocalists, Lyn Bowtell, did something similar with the achingly beautiful If It Be Your Will, a haunting insight into Cohen the spiritual seeker, before the song was launched into heavenly realms with the help of the 50-strong Adelaide based choir, Born on Monday.
Before each song we heard recorded excerpts of Cohen’s lyrics, writings, or interviews that provided sage-like clues about the song to follow, offering beads of wisdom about how to lead a successful, mindful life. For example, Cohen’s reasoning behind Halleluja was to remind us that to celebrate each moment of your existence is one of the few things you can control and that you can actually be certain of. So, 600 people willingly sang Halleluja together.
Given my first impressions of Cohen’s music some fifty years earlier I never imagined that I’d be joining in a joyous en masse singalong of his music but that we did on Halleluja, So Long Marianne, and Dance Me to the End of Love.
Toward show’s end we heard words from Cohen’s final press conference. He humbly referred to himself as a disciplined craftsmen who used the meagre tools he had at his disposal – his guitar, his voice, and his language – and worked them as hard as he could. Anthem (“there are cracks in everything – that’s where the light gets in”) took us out, and the spirit of Leonard Cohen was appropriately accompanied on its way by ethereal Mongolian throat singing.
Cohen died on November 7th, 2016, Donald Trump was first elected president one day later. That felt hugely appropriate at the time. It was almost as if the spirit of Leonard Cohen could not co-exist on this earth with someone who was his polar opposite.
Cohen was not religious, but he was intensely spiritual, and that spirit lives on in the music of Monsieur Camembert. They have captured and expressed his quest for the meaning of existence with love and exquisite musical arrangements.
If Dylan was the poet who spoke for the incipient Boomer generation, then Cohen may have the equivalent role for their end. And the continuum from Dylan’s first words to Cohen’s last may well represent the cultural journey that generation has taken.
This review also published on The Clothesline.
