Some songs wow us with powerful, strident lyrics that take a political or emotional stand. Others lead with instrumentation, letting the lyrics take a back seat or omitting them altogether. Sometimes — quite rarely — the lyrics and instrumentation come together seamlessly, creating an unforgettable experience that speaks both to our minds and ears.
Yet for a form of art that has its roots in poetry, popular music is rarely literary. Songs are usually too short, too sparse, too hurried or just too simplistic to develop the rich threads of figurative meaning that can be found in novels, in the visual arts, or even — in a sense — in symphonies. Songs that attempt to “make a point” often do so in clumsily direct fashion, leaving us with surface-level screeds that do a good job of telling us what the artist thinks, but fail to make us think. Songs are not interpreted so much as they are received — passively, while we are driving to work or drifting off to sleep or (for the true multitaskers) reading. So the exceedingly rare piece of popular music that nests its themes in metaphors, symbolic imagery, poetic language and ambiguity, all while engrossing the listener in a masterful sonic landscape, is a towering accomplishment.
Today, I want to talk about one such accomplishment: Avalanche by Leonard Cohen, released in 1971 on his Songs of Love and Hate album. Before I say anything else, I’ve included the lyrics below. Do yourself a favor and give it a listen before continuing. In this age of YouTube and Spotify, you have no excuse!
Well I stepped into an avalanche
It covered up my soul
When I am not this hunchback that you see
I sleep beneath the golden hill
You who wish to conquer pain
You must learn, learn to serve me well
You strike my side by accident
As you go down for your gold
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
Is neither starved nor cold
He does not ask for your company
Not at the centre, the centre of the world
When I am on a pedestal
You did not raise me there
Your laws do not compel me
To kneel grotesque and bare
I myself am the pedestal
For this ugly hump at which you stare
You who wish to conquer pain
You must learn what makes me kind
The crumbs of love that you offer me
They’re the crumbs I’ve left behind
Your pain is no credential here
It’s just the shadow, shadow of my wound
I have begun to long for you
I who have no greed
I have begun to ask for you
I who have no need
You say you’ve gone away from me
But I can feel you when you breathe
Do not dress in those rags for me
I know you are not poor
And don’t love me quite so fiercely now
When you know that you are not sure
It is your turn, beloved
It is your flesh that I wear
This is a song that will mean something different to everyone who hears it. A Christian will identify with its apparent references to Jesus, while a Jew might recognize “the golden hill” as a reference to Jerusalem’s Dome of the Rock. A closer listen will suggest that what at first seems to be a conversation between God and a lowly vagrant might actually be the vagrant talking to himself, a reading that might appeal to an atheist or agnostic. Seizing on that reading, a Buddhist might interpret the song as a struggle between a man’s worldly self and the true, universal nature of his being. And, of course, anyone with any belief system might subscribe to all or none of these approaches — Cohen himself explored Judaism, Buddhism, and elements of Christianity throughout his life.
But despite the wide variety of potential interpretations, do not make the mistake of thinking Avalanche is copping out by avoiding a straightforward reading. The song, after all, is about uncertainty. The narrator is an “ugly hump” and a “cripple” one minute, and the next he is an enlightened being with no need for such concerns as food or warm clothing.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
Is neither starved nor cold
He does not ask for your company
Not at the center, the center of the world
The narrator himself is engaged in the act of interpretation, though in this case he is interpreting his own body, his own soul, his own personality.
If it’s not clear by now, I’m in the camp that believes the narrator is one man, divided in two. There is the god-like, spiritually fulfilled man (some might prefer to call this his soul) who issues commands with the authority of a higher being:
Do not dress in those rags for me
I know you are not poor
Then there is the physical person, the body, which the narrator constantly disparages and degrades until, in the penultimate stanza, he makes a surprising admission:
I have begun to long for you
I who have no greed
I have begun to ask for you
I who have no need
You say you’ve gone away from me
But I can feel you when you breathe
Again, there are many ways one could interpret this section. But we can also make a few eliminations: If this is God’s voice, references to longing and asking don’t seem to make much sense. Conversely, if this is a man talking to God, the man’s claims that he has no greed or need seem oddly divine, or at least awfully prideful, and they don’t square with the self-loathing manner in which he disparages his body. But if this is the figurative soul talking to the body, the fog clears. Spiritual fulfillment, it turns out, is not enough for the narrator. He needs the body, even though spiritual discipline has supposedly rid him of greed or need. Quite literally, he feels his body when it breathes, which reminds him that he can never truly free himself from the constraints of a physical existence.
This is also one of the most emotionally resonant parts of the song; no matter your interpretation, hearing Cohen’s delivery of I can feel you when you breathe, followed by the gentle but unstoppable undercurrent of classical guitar, conjures an indelible image of something important and hopelessly delicate floating just out of reach on a breeze — or, perhaps, on a breath.
Moving onward, my interpretation is backed up by the final two lines of the song, which are also its most ambiguous:
It is your turn, beloved
It is your flesh that I wear
If the narrator is indeed two halves of the same man, then it makes sense to say that his soul is “wearing” the flesh of the body, as oddly horrific as it sounds on a first listen. Carrying on the admission of need from the previous stanza, the man’s spiritual self has decided to allow the body to coexist — not as a “hump” or “cripple,” but as a partner, if not an equal.
This is all to say nothing of the orchestration of the song, which perfectly uses Cohen’s voice as its own instrument. Cohen’s steady but angry growl projects both hope and despair in equal measure, and a subtle but powerful violin backing helps the piece build emotional momentum as it approaches its conclusion. And the fragile strumming of classical guitar always seems close to falling apart under its own weight, suggesting (to the imaginative, perhaps) the frailty of the body as a container for the mind and spirit.
The sum total is a masterpiece, a song that traverses the depths of human existence with all the skill of an epic poem, and I’m skeptical that we will ever see its equal.
What’s your favorite example of literary songwriting? Let me know in the comments!
Earth Critic 
This is a great essay on Avalanche, LC’ song. It puts words to my feelings and wonderings. I sometimos despair for understanding of the lyrics, and read them as Jews read the bible, studying word by word. Even so I always have in mind that once Cohen said that people often told him they didn’t understand his lyrics, and he addenda, “I don’t beleive them, it is as trying to understand a hug”.
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To understand this lyric you have to get inside of the mind of LC. What did He knew about God. What was His take on Christ. As i listened this song when I was 18 i was puzzled and intrigued by the lyrics, the sinister voice, the musical composition, yet I couldn’t make a lot of sense of the lyric. At age 31 i studied the bible intensively and my life completely changed. Holy Spirit taught me, experiencing Gods presence, experiencing a lot of miracles, understanding God’s logic, etc. So… 40 years later, with renewed insight, Avalanche came to my mind. I listened and finally could master it.
I stepped into an avalanche
It covered up my soul
(A realisation that mankind lost the image and likeness of God in Adams fall)
When I am not this hunchback that you see
I sleep beneath the golden hill
(Jesus looked defeated, yet conquered death, and restores us by His Spirit to Gen 1:27: His image His likeness. He is at rest beneath the Golden hill and so are we.)
You who wish to conquer pain
You must learn, learn to serve me well
(A wrong assumption that God needs/wants to be served to bless. It is the other way round. In Christ we are restored to divine origin).
[Verse 2]
You strike my side by accident
As you go down for your gold
(May point to the spearstrike afflicted on Jesus, “gold” came out, the once and for all perfect sacrifice was made)
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
Is neither starved nor cold
(Own works to make you feel good, do not make you righteous and are often done just to be noticed)
He does not ask for your company
Not at the center, the center of the world
(A wrong assumption that God doesn’t need your company. It is the other way round. After all: “It pleases the Father to give you the Kingdom, Holy Spirit, Divine nature back”.
[Verse 3]
When I am on a pedestal
You did not raise me there
(Jesus is the pedestal, he need not be raised by our efforts))
Your laws do not compel me
To kneel grotesque and bare
(Correct insight. God doesn’t want to be glorified by man. He thrives in glorifying you, His creation.)
I myself am the pedestal
For this ugly hump at which you stare
(Christ is the pedestal, even though He may not have the appearance of almighty God, He is God manifesting in human form).
[Verse 4]
You who wish to conquer pain
You must learn what makes me kind
(Wrong assumption. God is kind. Always. That’s why he stooped down in Christ to restore us back to origin: 2 Cor 3:18. So we don’t learn what makes Him kind, we discover that He is kind wich is the biggest “painrelief”for you-manity)
The crumbs of love that you offer me
They’re the crumbs I’ve left behind
(Bears witness to the incomplete view LC had on Gods goodness revealed through Christ).
Your pain is no credential here
It’s just the shadow, shadow of my wound
(Again, limited insight. God cares highly for mankind. Considering the boisterous love expressds by Jesus hanging on a cross to give us back the original Zoe-life!)
You might also like
Sweet
Lana Del Rey
(You might as well, she is cute)
Kintsugi
(The art of brokenness. Limited insight. Not applicable on God. God restores you from the brokenness of mankinds fall. No need to embrace past scars. Zoe-life, the Kingdom has come)
Lana Del Rey
Paris, Texas
Lana Del Rey
[Verse 5]
I have begun to long for you
I who have no greed
I have begun to ask for you
I who have no need
(True. God longs to share His Kingdom, Zoe-life back to you-manity)
You say you’ve gone away from me
But I can feel you when you breathe
(Separation from God is an illusion. He is here right now working in the invisible to regenerate Gen 1:27 in us).
[Verse 6]
Do not dress in those rags for me
I know you are not poor
(False humility doesn’t make you pious. No need to either. You are loved by God. A receptor of His Holy Spirit).
And don’t love me quite so fiercely now
When you know that you are not sure
(Again. No need to exaggerate your love for God, trying to please Him or trying to get noticed. Yet we may be very sure in loving God once we understand what He has done for you-manity.)
It is your turn, beloved
It is your flesh that I wear
(Epic truth! God dwells within you. When we change by His Spirit we become more and more an expression of our true self: The image an likeness of God. That would be Christlikeness. For Christ is the exact image of the invisible God… The image we were created after and…. Are being restored to by His life, words, prefect sacrifice, His Spirit. “Holy Spirit brings forth after His own kind”.)
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Thank you for this comment! It’s certainly possible to form a completely theological interpretation of the song. I do wonder, though, if you’re missing the more experiential components of the lyrics. There is a conversation happening throughout, which is fundamentally different from what I would call narration as found in the Bible. I think some of the lyrics you consider incorrect assumptions could be more deeply read when you consider the human psyche/both halves of the conversation — not just the divine.
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Thanks, Patricia. Whether or not we have a perfect understanding of the lyrics, I think that almost desperate desire to understand them, which you allude to, points to the music’s greatness. Songs, poems, novels, etc. can be as ambiguous as they like, but only the great ones draw us in magnetically and make the act of interpretation feel like the discovery of some great and profound secret.
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Yes, I believe that great songs and their lyrics are the ones that make “the act of interpretation feel like the discovery of some great and profound secret”. Even if Cohen said that the answer to the mysteries is: Doo da di dam dam.
I only comment the lyrics, because I don’t have an education on music and so cannot express what I hear. But I liked what you wrote about the music and sound of his voice. As soon as the song starts it makes you pay attention, and the ending is awesome.
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Hi Austin. I would like to comment on; “I have begun to long for you I who have no greed” I think about my (very swallow) interpretation of Buddhism. If you long for something you have greed, and therefore you can not loose the grip of the ego. And the same with; “I have begun to ask for you, I who have no need”. There is the same contradiction here. To expres it with my own words and life; I long desperatly for “coming home”, and the more I long the more I get stuck in my ego and to hang on to “getting something”. You know this example you often hear; you go all your life pushing that door, and maybe it opens towards you.
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Thank you, Austin, for this essay. I’ve long thought about what this song means. Every time I think I have an angle on an interpretation it slips away from me. Your thoughts make sense to me. I may never hear Avalanche the same way again, which could be taken as a negative, but I’m happy to have this new perspective.
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Thank you very much for your deep and empathic interpretation. Besides the (partially) possible parallel reading from a man/woman perspective, I share your view that “the narrator is one man, divided in two”. Here some questions and remarks:
With regard to “hunchback / cripple”: no relevant difference? I would say no (e.g. not “crippled inside” like Lennon). And: Does the “I” see himself viciously labeled as such one (e.g. does not think he is)? I would rather say yes.
You write: “This is a song that will mean something different to everyone who hears it.” Well, the lines of this song, taken on its own, may allow many sorts of individual associations. But you surely look for another type of meaning, probably assuming a consistency of the whole text (written by a serious poet). Because you clearly intend to “make a few eliminations”. I like this rational approach. As regards the line “You say you’ve gone away from me”, I began to doubt your reading, asking myself: Does the body speak about its separateness? For me, only the reading “man/woman” here seemed to hold. But now I admit both readings: it is always in the imagination of the protagonist.
You write: “… Cohen’s delivery of I can feel you when you breathe … conjure[s] an indelible image of something important and hopelessly delicate floating just out of reach on a breeze – or, perhaps, on a breath.” This is beautifully said, but I do not hear this kind of a maybe preferable articulation of the last word “breathe”. I listened once more to various performances of LC: he does not especially extend the syllable. (That is, no need to preserve such a form in an optimal translation.)
Finally, let me point to the fact that LC liked to vary some words and lines. This should be included in your interpretation. Cf.:
I never knew how much I wanted you | Oh love beyond belief
I have begun to wait for you | I who rule (the) seven seas /or/ Oh love beyond belief
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Thanks, Dieter, for this well-considered reply. I’d be interested in hearing more about your man/woman interpretation. Reviewing the lyrics, I suppose I can envision a man “worshiping” a woman, but while pain, servitude, submission, etc. can have sexual connotations, I don’t quite see that linkage here. But as you say (and as one of my heroes, William Blake, ardently believed), it is all in the imagination, and perhaps I am also misunderstanding what you meant.
Your point about the lyrical variations in Cohen’s performances is well-made. To be honest, while I don’t think they disrupt the divine/abstract vs earthly dichotomy that I address in this piece, I’m not terribly fond of the variations. I will consider whether I have anything substantial to say about them.
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Thank you for your reaction. I am glad that your interest has remained. When I discovered your highly appreciative interpretation, it backed me up in my effort to grasp and translate the lyrics. Although all these double lines had been in my mind for many years, it was not one of my favorite LC songs. But LC’s “growling”, as you say, accompanied only by his guitar, touches me very much: e.g. or above all in the live performance in San Sebastian 1988 (strangely without the forth stanza, but with “the seven seas”).
As is said in a comment, the “lines are perfectly constructed and crystal clear”. But how to “try to weave a thread through all the song’s lines to tie them together”?
In reply to you, I would say that the man/woman perspective is an usual thing in LC’s song writing; one may even ask where it is not given. And often the realms of love for a woman and love for something like God seem to blur. But surely, in this song a possible female aspect is not connected with divine features.
In my opinion, there is not one “narrator” in the text. But we may speak of a constant protagonist appearing in all lines, once perhaps also addressed as a YOU. (Besides, the HE in II/5 is to be read as an I.) My view on this text is as follows. I see three possible “threads”:
The I could be related (1a) – in the first four lines and in the first two lines of stanza II – to a person in relation to another person (cf. “my soal”, the label “hunchback”, “my side”).
Beginning with probably II/3 and extending until the end – it could more closely refer (1b) to this person, focussed now as a spiritual person in relation to another person, worldly-minded.
[By the way, “side” and “wound” cannot be consistently referred to the body of Jesus, although it may be “allowed” to take them as single associations. – Here I may add that I am not able to envision in the lines with “clothe” etc. the figure of Jesus, which certainly fascinates LC.]
And, following your convincing interpretation, the I may also refer – but only from the forth stanza (or IV/3) onwards – (2) to this person’s soal in a mode of personification in relation to the personified YOU of this person’s body. (In a long, somewhat contradictory interpretation the author fjodor speaks of “the divine within”.)
As regards the lines I/5-6 and IV/1-2 (with “conquer pain”), I imagine that they could be read as the inserted words of a voice, here put without quotation marks: YOU protagonist – ME the divine within (or even: YOU people – I God).
Besides, within a side thread, the I may be referred – throughout the whole song, except the lines with “conquer pain” and probably except III/1-4 – (3) to a man in relationship to a woman: with some perhaps trivial allusions, with wit & hyperbole. In a (quite serious) German comment the phrase “go down for YOUR gold” is, in a certain parallel to LC’s self-torturing song “Iodine”, even referred to the act of masturbation. The man disdains both domesticity (see Simmon’s biography) and, let’s say, event culture. The wording “crumbs of love” is repeated in a poem (1978), where it rhymes with “slums of love”. As for the final line, it could be read in the sense of “we both share the same flesh”.
Some additional remarks:
○ Note that the I does not passively “got caught in” a metaphoric avalanche: the I does something actively (metaphorically “steps into”), with this unintended result. The avalanche could refer to the person’s deep depression, with another person observing a physical deformation and with the person’s desire to get to “the golden hill”, which may, as is suggested in comments, refer to Mainak Hill in the Hindu epic Ramayana.
○ (Just a minor correction: the I is not a (ugly) hump, but has a hump: the person feels like a pedestal for the perceived hump.)
○ In case of the soal/body reading, the body’s utterance (“You say you’ve gone away from me”) must be understood as an imagination of the I=soal. (It is not: they say.) [Additionally, an association might arise: God / people turning away / the remaining connection via breath / pneuma / ruach.]
As I see it, for an optimal translation, preserving semantics & form content, one does not necessarily need to have a full overall understanding of the whole text. I just tried to follow the language in its depth, striving to leave the translation vague as the original. Having accomplished the work (for now), I am still keen to discuss overall interpretations of the assumed concept of this song poem.
If(!) there is such an overall meaning of the whole text,the understanding of the third stanza (with “pedestal”) seems to be the crucial point. So far, I could not ‘understand’ in a satisfying way the lines III/1-4. Maybe you can help in understanding the hopefully understandable?
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i see the song as being about God being beyond human needs because those needs are not expressed sincerely to God. Any human worship will always be imperfect. God incarnates himself in the form of a hunch back. ‘you struck my side by accident’ is an ironic comment about the piercing of the side of Christ on the cross. God has no need of imperfect humanity but is fascinated by it nonetheless.
Thomas Andrews.
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Thank you, Thomas. You have me enjoying the idea of a god with a dry sense of humor.
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Trying to put a final point, I returned to my translation manuscript and read through some considerations again. You reacted to my first remarks, but not to my long comment sent as Anonymous on September 3. Maybe you just have put your final point on this topic. So please do not feel urged to reply at large. Best regards, D.Wirth
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