Dance me to the end of love

Here is a piece by Madeleine Peyroux as part of her 2005 album Careless Love.

Peyroux’s 2004 cover of Leonard Cohen iconic 1984 ballad “Dance me to the end of love” is a perfect exhibition of her Billie Holiday-esque vocal talent (remember “All of me” from a couple of editions back?), boasting the right amount of sultriness and swing to give this piece the dark passion it so begs for through its impassioned poetry:

“…Dance me to the children who are asking to be born

Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn

Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn

Dance me to the end of love…”

The delicate brush hits on the drums propel the piece with a gentle velocity, allowing the bass and piano to fit in naturally and embellish the breaks in vocal phrases. An amalgamation of many instruments of different timbres creates a subtle but complex background figure, which seems to shape-shift around Peyroux’s voice like a vine around a tree; keeping the form but losing the definition — she emerges and then disappears, giving her words a sexy cadence, and the piece an airy flow.

The musical composition is one of brilliance, combining a gypsy jazz sound from the rhythm guitar, a Latin semblance from the piano’s minor tonality, and, of course, a lilting swing feel that connects the piece to its jazz roots. The complexity of the piece does not stop there, but is aptly reflected in the its lyrical genius; the dichotomy of optimism in the prospect of dancing and the melancholy within the words and context give it a convoluted meaning and a certain douleur exquise.

Cohen uses dark turns in his poetry:

“…Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin…”

or

“…Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn…”

even

“…dance me to the end of love”

are antitheses that linger in one’s mind, arousing contemplation rather than easy listening — a disgusting term that unfortunately has become associated with this era. Although subtleties of emotion are difficult to decipher in the long instrumental solos of jazz and blues, poetry is accessible to all and is so pivotal to the uniqueness of pieces like this. Cohen wrote this in consideration of the grim practice in Nazi death camps where some prisoners were forced to play classical music while their fellows were put to death, a twisted portrayal of “the end of this existence and of the passionate element in that consummation” in the “same language we use to surrender to the beloved” — in the words of Cohen.

Particularly striking lines end the piece:

“Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove”

wherein the humanity of their love and the inhumanity of their death becomes an overwhelmingly clear juxtaposition.

But, like all good art, it affects, grips, and remains in one’s memory even when considered without its context!

I hope you enjoy the piece!