The 1970 Isle of Wight festival has become, over time, the confused and clumsy
second cousin of Woodstock (not to be confused with Altamont, Woodstock’s
evil and deranged stepbrother). The English festival, then in its third and
biggest year, experienced a similar problem that Woodstock did with gatecrashers
and ticketless miracle seekers. The scene on the tiny island off the south coast
of the U.K., however, intensified as forceful hooligans from all over Europe
and who-knows-where showed up, lit fires, threw garbage at the stage, and screamed
bloody murder at the prospect of the musicians and promoters making money for
their efforts. Many pushed down the erected fences, taking over a hillside dubbed
Devastation Hill (illegal encampment of the free festival radicals).
Five days into the volatile festival, on Sunday, August 31, 1979, at 2:00 AM,
the ever calm and resilient Leonard Cohen walked onto the Isle of Wight stage
and hypnotized the crowd of 600,000 into a state of sedateness. Four decades
later, Live At The Isle Of Wight 1970, a DVD/CD package (as
well as a double vinyl set and Blu-ray disc) from Legacy, documents the event
with music, interviews and insight that tell the story of how the enigmatic
Canadian poet, novelist and songsmith delivered one of the smoothest and most
important performances of his career.
Many of Cohen’s contemporaries on the bill didn’t fare so well.
Joni Mitchell tearfully admonished the crowd for their unruly behavior; Kris
Kristofferson got swiftly booed off stage in a hail of beer cans. Soemhow, Cohen’s
disarming, placid demeanor transcended the madness. He was napping when he was
called to the stage to join his Army of Nashville musicians and singers. Without
wincing, he patiently tuned up, gazed into the sea of humanity beofre him and
blissfully intoned, “Greetings.” Then he told a short story about
going to the circus with his father and gently fell into “Bird On The
Wire,” a beloved signature from his new album at the time, Songs
From A Room.
The performance breezily advanced onward as a hush fell over the fidgety mob.
Cohen told more stories, respectfully addressed the audience, asking everyone
to the chagrin of the promoters to light a match. A few probably started square
dancing when Cohen, accompanied by Ron Cornelius on acoustic and electric guitar,
Charlie Daniels on fiddle and acoustic guitar, Elkin “Bubba” Fowler
on banjo, Bob Dylan’s producer Bob Johnston on keyboards, and three backing
singers — Corylynn Hanney, Susan Musmanno, and Dona Washburn — pounded
out “Tonight Will Be Fine.”
Ultimately, it was Cohen, guitar in hand, heart on sleeve, who presided over
the moment, skillfully instilling what Judy Collins describes as an “other
worldliness” into “Suzanne” before undertaking the fierce
tragedy of “Seems So Long Ago, Nancy” and exiting the stage. Johnston,
Kristofferson, Collins, and Joan Baez all cite Cohen’s cool head and assured
set for lifting the festival from its doldrums. The video, extracted from Murray
Lerner’s Isle of Wight reels, willfully shows the highlights,
and the companion CD captures the entire 80-minute performance. And Leonard
Cohen, still touring and performing today, remains at a crossroad with detours
and off-ramps to distant passages of serenity — as relevant now as it
was then.
~ Shawn Perry
