Hallelujah

Finally there’s no conflict between things, finally everything is reconciled but not where we live. This world is full of conflicts and full of things that cannot be reconciled but there are moments when we can transcend the dualistic system and reconcile and embrace the whole mess and that’s what I mean by Hallelujah. That regardless of what the impossibility of the situation is, there is a moment when you open your mouth and you throw open your arms and you embrace the thing and you just say ‘Hallelujah! Blessed is the name.’ And you can’t reconcile it in any other way except in that position of total surrender, total affirmation. ~Leonard Cohen

Although it may be argued that this is not Leonard Cohen’s best song, there is no argument about its being his most popular one. The evolution of “Hallelujah” from a relatively obscure recording on the 1984 album Various Positions to the appearance of three different versions simultaneously occupying positions 1, 2 and 36 on the UK music charts by 2008, some 24 years after its release, is a bit of a complicated story. It needs to be unpacked from the beginning and traced through its development.

After the 1979 release of Recent Songs and the subsequent promotional tours ended in 1980, Leonard Cohen retreated from recording and performing. This was a period Cohen referred to as a ‘spiritual/psychic crisis’ for him, a time when he withdrew from public life and pursued a deeper study of his Jewish tradition in an effort to resolve his difficulties. Although he was not recording or performing, he never stopped writing. By 1983 he published Book of Mercy, a book of psalms which serve as an expression of the struggles he experienced. By 1983 he was back in the studio recording Various Positions, a collection of songs which, to a large degree, reflected this problematic time. His song “Anthem” also came out of this time, but the recorded version for this album did not meet Cohen’s high standards and was dropped. Although it was rerecorded in different versions 3 or 4 times, it did not make its appearance until the release of The Future in 1992.

“Hallelujah”, one of Leonard Cohen’s seminal songs, elaborates on the fundamental approach he took in creating so many other songs in the entirety of his musical works. It should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with his poetry, his fiction or his lyrics that his written work is anchored in his understanding of and the value he placed on biblical sources. It is the underpinning of much of his lyrical work ranging from the recording of “Suzanne” on his first album to “You Want It Darker” released at the end of his career. In spite of the proliferation of biblical influence appearing throughout his written work, you would have a difficult time tracking down any detailed study of these references or the significance they have as Cohen used them. But you cannot come to any deeper understanding of the lyrics nor extend your appreciation of their significance without looking closely at this essential element of Leonard Cohen’s written work. This theological foundation contained in so many of his lyrical works is veiled much of the time. When we do see it most often it is in his use of allusions to biblical stories, lessons, persons, imagery and situations. However, on occasion the biblical references rise to become the song itself – an elucidation of the power of spiritual forces to illuminate the human condition, our perception of the world, and our understanding of who and what we are. “Hallelujah” is one of these songs.

Cohen initially draws our attention to the connection between music and the expression of praise for God. Music, in its spiritual application, is intended to inspire, to evoke a spiritual response from the heart. Of all the storied individuals contained in the pages of the Old Testament, Cohen refers to King David for very specific reasons. This is the same David who slew Goliath, the battle king who helped forge the nation of Israel and the father of King Solomon, but it is to David’s highly regarded ability to stir the heart with his music and songs of praise (David is the acknowledged author of most of the Book of Psalms.) that Cohen draws our attention. King Saul, David’s predecessor, would call for David to play to him and calm his mind when the fits he suffered were upon him. It is this aspect of King David that Cohen refers to when he says: “I heard there was a secret chord/That David played and it pleased the Lord”. Well aware that his modern audience has little regard for anything religious in nature, Cohen continues with: “But you don’t really care for music, do ya?” In other words, you don’t really care for this type of music which lends itself to a spiritual application.

Not content to set the point aside, Cohen insists on taking the listener deeper into exactly that kind of music whether or not we want to hear it. He continues: “Well it goes like this the fourth, the fifth / The minor fall, the major lift.” The chord progression he refers to actually forms the structure of the music being played under this part of the lyric. Cohen is pulling back the curtain on the construction of “Hallelujah” itself to reveal how this inspirational music is done. It is intended to demonstrate the same powerful weight as that of King David’s music: “The baffled king composing hallelujah”. The “baffled” King David because even though we may not understand why music can be so inspirational, we can all recognize that it does indeed evoke that response in us – we have just experienced an example of it.

The chorus which follows is simple: four unadorned repetitions of the word ‘hallelujah’. The chorus provides an opportunity for the listener to consider the magnitude of this word as it flows from the context of the prior verse. Performers of the song recognize the enticing prospect of applying their own vocal interpretation to the hallelujahs, and the best among them build on the power of the verse the chorus follows, to confirm – even celebrate – the emotional sense it holds.

Note as well the design of the verse: the first triad of three lines present a set of conditions while the second triad of three lines reveal a statement of spiritual dynamics brought into play by those conditions. We have David playing his music which pleases the lord, but we don’t really pay much attention to that kind of music these days – the first triad. Then we are shown how the music is structured with a demonstration of the effect that the composed hallelujah can have – the second triad. Musically the last triad achieves a greater emphasis because it is supported by the employment of David’s “secret chord”, the hallelujah music arrangement. This pattern is repeated for all verses both musically and in the literary sense.

While the first verse establishes the spiritual or ‘holy’ dimension of hallelujah, the second verse defines another dimension of the word. In spite of the heroic and holy aspects of his character, David was not without fault. We are reminded of another renowned event in his life: “Your faith was strong but you needed proof / You saw her bathing on the roof/Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya”. The allusion here is to the adulterous relationship of David and Bathsheba. One evening while pacing the roof of his palace David saw Bathsheba bathing on a nearby rooftop and was enthralled by her beauty. He summoned her to his palace only to find that she was the wife of one of his generals currently out in the field fighting David’s battles. Nonetheless, David surrenders to the adulterous affair and when Bathsheba became pregnant, he arranged for the general, Uriah by name, to be placed in the front lines of an upcoming battle. As intended Uriah was killed and David took the widowed Bathsheba as wife – an undoubtedly immoral way to solve his quandary. As explained in the Bible, David’s punishment was to be deposed by one of his sons. He lost his throne and had his kingdom taken away from him.

The examples of fallen heroes continues in the second triad. Samson, another easily recognizable biblical character, was also undone by betraying his faith. Samson was a Nazirite, a member of a particular group who swore sacred vows to God. In return for his holy vow Samson was granted great strength as long as he did not cut his hair, the symbol of his sacred oath, and his feats of strength are well documented. Samson often entered Philistine country, his sworn enemies who were terrified by his prolific strength. Here he met and began a relationship with Delilah, a Philistinian woman. Approached by her country’s leaders to find a way to betray Samson, Delilah agrees and eventually convinces Samson to tell her the secret of his great strength. She then cuts his hair while he is sleeping and allows him to be captured by the Philistines who gouge out his eyes and imprison him: “She tied you to a kitchen chair / She broke your throne and she cut your hair”. Samson, like David, lost his throne, betrayed his sacred vow and was put on display by the Philistines to be publicly shamed and humiliated.

Cohen’s reference to these two biblical persons are meant to extend his characterization of the word ‘hallelujah’. Both David and Samson have lost their position through their own actions. As the last line of the verse reads: “And from your lips she drew the hallelujah”, the question needs to be asked: what does the hallelujah sound like that comes out of these circumstances? It is certainly not the same as the holy hallelujah David was composing in the first verse. This hallelujah embodies all the loss, regret and sorrow that such circumstances can carry. Cohen has now defined two types of hallelujah: the holy one, recited in praise and celebration, and the broken one uttered in tragic circumstances that one has no choice but to face.

In the following verse Cohen reinforces the idea of the two types of hallelujahs but he advances another feature to the concept: the value of both these hallelujahs. Adhering to the verse pattern, a situation with specific conditions is presented in the first triad: “You say I took the name in vain / I don’t even know the name / But if I did well, really, what’s it to ya?” Introducing an obviously personal set of circumstances with no specific details, Cohen speaks of an accusation against him of breaking the one of the Commandments: Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord, thy God, in vain. It is a commandment which demands the proper degree of respect be shown towards God and all things holy. It would not be difficult to find instances in Cohen’s writing where some could question his sense of respect, especially with his fondness for overlapping the spiritual and the profane. As Cohen cleverly refuses to accept the accusation, he also confronts it: “But if I did well, really, what’s it to ya?” – it is not your concern. And rather than make a claim that no one has the right to judge, or calling on a right to free speech, or refuting the accusation itself, he explains, on cue with the impact of the second triad of the verse, the spiritual dynamics at play: “There’s a blaze of light in every word / It doesn’t matter which you heard / The holy or the broken hallelujah”. It is the experience itself, regardless of whether it is of the holy or of the broken, which allows for us to learn, to correct ourselves and move forward. The mention of the holy or the broken hallelujah is also a direct reference back to the examples of David and Samson. Both types of hallelujah are contained in the stories of these biblical characters just as they are within each of us. And their stories lead to another spiritual process which comes into play: the process of redemption – the transformation of the broken into the holy.

David suffered punishment for his unethical behaviour…his throne was taken away from him by his favoured son, Absalom. David acknowledged that the choices he had made were wrong and he sincerely regretted them. He solemnly promised to do better and, indeed, he won back his kingdom, but his victory came at the cost of Absalom’s life. Samson, too, redeemed himself. Having broken his holy vow, he was captured, blinded and imprisoned to be brought out on occasion for the amusement of his captors, humiliated, degraded, the once mighty Samson brought low. He, too, regretted his choices and vowed to set them right. At a large gathering of Philistine leaders and nobles who clamored for the disgraced Samson to be brought to them again, he returned. Hair regrown and strong once more through his renewed vow, he broke the pillars of the feasting hall bringing down the roof on those assembled destroying his enemies and himself. Redemption – the transformation of the broken into the holy. Some may pass these spiritual dynamics off as unimportant or perhaps simply ignore them, but Leonard Cohen didn’t.

He was honest enough to recognize the holy and the broken hallelujahs in his own life and the desire to find redemption out of failure. These were spiritual processes whose significance and value he understood, and from his own experience we have the fourth and final verse of the original “Hallelujah”:

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel so I tried to touch
I told the truth, I didn’t come to fool ya

And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the lord of song
With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah

In his own assessment of how he fared with the challenges he faced Cohen gives a frank admission of his lack of success in many things. Although putting forward his ‘best’ effort, it never amounted to much. In his chosen work of writing for a living, however, it isn’t so much a question of success as it is a question of integrity. His declaration that he told the truth, that he took pains not to deceive carries important weight for him. In spite of the fact that “it all went wrong”, in the great balance of things redemption for Leonard Cohen comes from the integrity of his writing, his absolute commitment to telling the truth and infusing his work with nothing but hallelujahs, both holy and broken, without compromise.

From the carefully crafted structure of the lyric, the power of the musical arrangement, and a sound theological basis for transforming the broken into the holy to come to redemption, “Hallelujah” is the evidence of a master song writer at work and the force of its argument forms the basis of much of his songwriting throughout his career. Over and over again in song after song his lyrics explore the holy and the broken in human affairs and transforms them into a language and style that strikes us as laden with a truthfulness the has so much in common with our own lives.

And yet Leonard Cohen was not satisfied with his efforts:

It [“Hallelujah”] had references to the Bible in it, although these references became more and more remote as the song went from the beginning to the end. Finally, I understood that it was not necessary to refer to the Bible anymore. And I rewrote this song; this is the ‘secular’ “Hallelujah”. …I wanted to push the Hallelujah deep into the secular world, into the ordinary world. The “Hallelujah”, the David’s “Hallelujah”, was still a religious song, so I wanted to indicate that Hallelujah can come out of things that have nothing to do with religion.

The ‘religious’, original “Hallelujah” stands on its own as one of Cohen’s most significant song writing achievements with its compassionate melody and clear, striking elucidation of some of the spiritual forces at play in our lives. On his promotional tours for Various Positions in the mid 1980’s he began performing a different version of the song. It is well documented that Leonard Cohen wrote many more verses for most of his songs than were included in the released recordings. For “Hallelujah” he acknowledged writing some 80 verses, filling a number of notebooks, and then chose from them the four verses heard on the original 1984 recording. It was another set of three verses later drawn from the 80 that became his ‘secular’ version of the song.

The ‘Secular’ Hallelujah

Designated by Cohen as a ‘secular’ version of “Hallelujah”, it does not mean that the lyrics were stripped of their spiritual significance. The holy and the broken hallelujah are there and they are dominant as counterpoints to each other in the portrayal of a collapsed romantic bond – emotional territory from which the lyricist had returned many times with songs in hand.

As part of the collection of unused verses for “Hallelujah” these lyrics carry the same triad structure and musical progression as those of the original song. In typical Cohen style, the setting, tone and topic are established in the opening lines:

Baby, I’ve been here before
I know this room, I’ve walked this floor
You see I used to live alone before I knew ya

We are stepping into a conversation between lovers of which we hear only one side, that of the speaker. Given a situation where the one partner brings forward a memory about the ease of life before the relationship, in serious, even solemn tones, we know at once that the ties binding the lovers are already unravelling and likely beyond repair. A call for a truthful assessment of the bond follows and the speaker delivers his unadorned, honest judgement designed to break the illusion of a bond that is no longer workable:

I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
But listen, love is not some kind of victory march
It’s a cold and very lonely hallelujah

A relationship cannot be sustained simply of some kind of pride based on staking sole claim on the affections of the other. That is not the holy hallelujah you may think it is. Rather, says the speaker, it makes for “a cold and very lonely hallelujah”.

Given enough time the relationship suffers, particularly in the physical intimacy found at the heart of love, the act that is capable of renewing and confirming all bonds. The telltale signs appear and they cannot be mistaken:

There was a time you let me know
What’s really going on below
But now you never even show it to me, do ya

The bonds of love may now have dissipated, but it was not always like this. There was a time when the joining was true and complete and powerful, so much so, says the speaker, that it was born of heaven:

I remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah

This juncture of the physical and the spiritual is extensive in Cohen’s works, whether it is his poetry, fiction or lyrics, and is well known to fans. It is, perhaps, one of the reasons his work is so deeply appreciated by those who perceive it. Popular culture, throughout the span of Leonard Cohen’s career to the present, has had no other comparable advocate. Cohen, himself, expressed that this perspective is not some simple invention meant to serve a lyrical purpose, it is testimony of his experience:

I’ve never been able to disassociate the spiritual from the practical. I think that what we call the spirit or spirituality is the most intense form of the practical. I think you have to find those sources or there is no movement, there is no life to be led. Many people have different ways of locating that source. Some people avail themselves of the traditional ways, which we call religion or religious practice. There are many people who have absolutely no need of those particular references, but it doesn’t mean that their lives are any less spiritual. On the contrary, it might mean that their lives are more spiritual.

Into the third verse the speaker takes a step down from the higher aspirations of love. It is ironic that in his own situation the experience of love on a higher level does not translate to an understanding of it on other levels:

Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew ya

According to the speaker, the only thing he has learned from his familiarity with love is how to strike back at someone who hurt him first. In this case love is, indeed, a broken hallelujah. His lament for this condition carries through to the second triad of the verse:

But it’s not a cry that you hear at night
It’s not somebody who’s seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah

Though there is no indication of redemption here as there is in the original recording, the idea of the holy and the broken hallelujah is the thematic strength of this version of the song.

Leonard Cohen’s performance of “Hallelujah” in concerts from the mid 1980’s on was a varied mixture of verses, changing from one performance to the next, taken from both the original and revised versions. It is difficult to find a recorded performance of the original version – the King David ‘religious’ song – that excludes any other verses. In most instances you find the revised version only or the revised version bracketed by verses from the original. Perhaps it was the latter that impressed John Cale at a Cohen concert and led to his now famous rendering of the song used in the movie Shrek.

The John Cale and Jeff Buckley Covers

As the story goes, John Cale attended a Cohen concert at the Beacon Theatre in New York City in 1990 where he was particularly impressed with the performance of “Hallelujah”. Invited a few months later to contribute a song to the Leonard Cohen tribute album I’m Your Fan, Cale approached Cohen for the words to the song. He received a faxed copy of some 15 verses from Cohen from which Cale says he choose the “cheekiest” ones and omitted those which carried the more personal religious references to Cohen himself. It seems to stretch the limits of credibility that Cale happened to choose exactly the same lyrics as Cohen’s secular version – which he had been performing on tour over the previous six years – coupled with the first two verses of the original – the ‘secret chord’ and the David/Samson lyrics. Putting that issue aside, Cale’s recording of the song released on his 1992 Fragments of a Rainy Season live album, accompanied only by himself on piano, achieved two things. It standardized the set of lyrics now most often used in covers of the song and it demonstrated the impact of a stripped-down musical arrangement that allowed the lyrics greater prominence and more space around them for vocal interpretation.

It was Cale’s “Hallelujah” from I’m Your Fan that caught the notice of Jeff Buckley. He developed his own take of Cale’s cover, substituting hauntingly beautiful guitar work for the piano arrangement under an evocative vocal delivery of Cale’s set of lyrics. Appearing on Buckley’s debut album Grace its popularity grew even more after the 30-year-old unexpectedly drowned.

Cale’s rather dignified, live-recorded performance was the version used in the wildly popular 2001 animated film Shrek and thus “Hallelujah” was introduced to a younger audience and began its descent into popular culture. It became a go-to favorite in the early 2000’s for movie and tv productions to bolster their emotional reach and also the darling of amateur singing contest shows. But quite apart from the complex and powerful lyrics of the ‘religious’ song, or the stirring, broken-hearted lyrics of the ‘secular’ version, “Hallelujah” seemed to be reduced to little more than a Hollywood cue to be sad or an opportunity for a singer to flaunt their vocal dexterities.

It may be interesting, given all the covers out there, for some to note the version that most impressed Cohen himself. In a 2009 interview for CBC’s Q radio program the question was put to him directly and without hesitation he named k. d. lang’s performance at the 2006 Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame awards show as the one that really touched him. He was a guest of honour at that show and was sitting in the front row. Her mastery of “Hallelujah” is a clear demonstration of her ability to bring each line of the lyrics to life for her audience and somehow express their intricacies with a voice that can move from nuance to power, from joy to sorrow and anguish to elegance with ease. Her performance of this Leonard Cohen treasure at the 2017 Tower of Song memorial is a delight for any listener.