Hot Yoga, and Leonard Cohen Tells The Truth

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“I’ll be there for you”


A new Planet Fitness opened around the corner from my house, and I decided to try something new and become a member. I totally love going, and going as often as I can. Kinda surprised myself. Am I becoming a gym rat? I just like going for the drugs. Get all those juicy endorphins, dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin flowing like wine. Keep away the haranguing depression and anxiety–a pox on you! This morning they actually gave out free bagels, so I made sure to replace all those beloved calories that I had just burnt off. I was a runner for almost ten years…I loved the high and the freedom of the wind blowing betwixt my whiskers. Running’s not for everyone. My wife hates running. I respect that. I hate hot yoga. No, not Bikram Yoga, hot yoga. Practicing two feet away from a lot of other sweaty, farting, bodies in a 100º room. Yoga rules. Love yoga. But I hate being hot. It’s difficult enough surviving in the Memphis summer heat, my tongue parched and pores screaming for moisture—except for the 80% humidity, ahhh that’ll do the trick. But she loves it. And since my knees staged a body mutiny, I stick to the gym machines. That is a truth.

Been plagued by this idea of “truth” in songwriting (and “regular” writing), ever since I read Leonard Cohen’s interview in Paul Zollo’s Songwriters on Songwriting. I wrote about this interview a couple of weeks ago, but this idea of truth has emerged like a weed in many songwriting conversations the past couple of weeks. Maybe it’s not a weed, but a blossom.

Cohen starts by actually stating the opposite point of truth (pg 334):
Some songs take a decade to write. “Anthem” took a decade to write. And I’ve recorded it three times. More. I had a version prepared for my last album with strings and voices and overdubs. The whole thing completely finished. I listened to it, there was something wrong with the lyric, there was something wrong with the tune, there was something wrong with the tempo. there was a lie somewhere in there, there was a disclosure that I was refusing to make.

Zollo keys into this and follows up with,
PZ: Earlier you said that you couldn’t sing an early version of “Anthem” because it had a lie in it. Does this mean that the songs have to resonate in truth for you to be able to sing them?
LC: They have to resonate with the kind of truth that I can recognize… (pg 339)

My mind’s been orbiting this thought in one way or another for the better part of this month, with (two posts ago) about point-of-view and value. Maybe that has something to do with it, as well—being authentic with your POV and your values. Bringing everything into focus, like the focus wheel on binoculars. I’m trying to strive for this…this, focal truth—I’m throwing overboard the word authentic because it stinks of co-option by marketing boardrooms. Writing songs this month committing to not having lies in them.


Reading: Song: The World’s Best Songwriters on Creating the Music that Moves Us ed. American Songwriter Magazine
Listening: Giant Sand
Watching: House of Cards, S3
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