It's the Same Old Song Week: Cohen III

What is it about "Famous Blue Raincoat" that attracts people? Is it the first person narrative? A lot of songs have that. The format of the song as a letter complete with signature? Is it the circumspect way of bringing up sore subjects as shared secrets? Is it the potent imagery, of which the famous blue raincoat of the title is the least? Is it the melancholy? The resignation? The push and pull of emotions? The way the emotions are so raw, but the reasons behind them are vague.

Is it the mystery? The way you only get part of the picture, like there was a venetian blind in the way? Is it the way it combines narrative and poetry with just the merest hint of rhyme? Is it because its an acting challenge for the singer? Is it because despite the dour tone of it, it is a song about acceptance and resignation? Your guess is as good as mine.

Maybe it's because the story is unfinished. Cohen must look at the song as a "problem child." He has said that he never finished the song to his satisfaction but that at the time of recording, he "didn't want to waste it." Still, it's one of his most popular songs.

I wonder what he thinks about that? Probably shakes his head, and has another drink, and starts work on the next one, knowing that he doesn't necessarily have to see it to the end.

Famous Blue Raincoat

It’s four in the morning, the end of December
I’m writing you now just to see if you’re better
New York is cold, but I like where I’m living
There’s music on Clinton Street all through the evening.
I hear that you’re building your little house deep in the desert
You’re living for nothing now, I hope you’re keeping some kind of record.

Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Did you ever go clear?

Ah, the last time we saw you you looked so much older
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder
You’d been to the station to meet every train
And you came home without Lili Marlene
And you treated my woman to a flake of your life
And when she came back she was nobody’s wife.

Well I see you there with the rose in your teeth
One more thin gypsy thief
Well I see Jane’s awake
She sends her regards.

And what can I tell you my brother, my killer
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I miss you, I guess I forgive you
I’m glad you stood in my way.
If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
Your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free.

Yes, and thanks for the trouble you took from her eyes
I thought it was there for good so I never tried.

And Jane came by with a lock of your hair
She said that you gave it to her
That night that you planned to go clear
Sincerely, L. Cohen