Letters in Music: "Famous Blue Raincoat"

I think I've taken too long to post this song. When I arrived to Ribeira in 2008, one of the activities we did in class consisted in each student presenting their favorite song. They explained the lyrics or why it had a special meaning for them. One of the singers that two people chose that year was Leonard Cohen, who I did not know before and has been a constant in our classes. Every year there is somebody that picks Leonard Cohen as their favorite singer: Leo Estévez, Dolores López or Daniel Gómez, who even chose to sing one of his songs, "Dance Me to the End of Love" in a karaoke session we had last January.

"Famous Blue Raincoat" (1971) is a poignant song written in the form of a letter, in fact many of the lines are written in amphibrachs (long syllables between short syllables). The lyrics tell us the story of a love triangle between the speaker, a woman named Jane, and the male addressee (identified only briefly as "my brother, my killer"). Click here for an article analyzing the song in detail.

"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