Oh, the Guy with all the White Hair

It's all in the timing, and too bad, Leon, the metronome swung to Leonard Cohen. Then the music world's attention went to the fabulous Sting (new album, flashy gig at the French nightclub that he re-opened after ISIS shut it down with bullets). 

Sort of lost, the news that a funny-looking guy died. No, not Johnny Winter or Edgar Winter. Not Hank Williams Jr. But some kind of pretentious yetti in a fucking cowboy hat and Hawaiian shirt. 

IF I'M BEING HONEST, Leon was one of the many artists I never cared a rat's ass about. That's a long list, and it includes a lot of Southern rock assholes including the Allman Brothers, as well as more Northern assholes like Ted Nugent. 

I didn't spend much time in any college dorm room that had a lot of shitty albums like that lying around. I'd see "Eat a Peach" and walk out before the stoned jerk started playing it. I'd also walk out rather than say: I don't want to hear your fucking "Mad Dogs" Joe Cocker tour album, your fucking Delaney & Bonnie shit, or Led Zep or Yes. And if you're going to grin and hold up a Rita Coolidge album and say, "Boy, I'd like to fuck her," well, fuck and OFF. 

THIS guy was right up there with Van Morrison among the annoying pseudo-soul fake-black-sounding howler-monkeys. Bleat to the beat. Reet petite.  I didn't mind "Tight Rope." But that was about it. One of the most annoying yowls of all time was his pandering "Elvis and Marilyn" song. And if "Delta Lady" is his claim to fame as a songwriter, please, that's a pretty condescending piece of "suck my cock" right there. It was a tribute to a pliable Native American chick who was pretty easy to push onto a bed. (She FINALLY had enough of Kris Kristofferson after he was not only constantly unfaithful on the road, but turned up in Playboy with his face up against another woman's cunt.) 

But I digress. Speaking of cunt, this posturing goofball was, of course, married to a black woman for a while. Oh, lookie: 

You get the idea both of them were making some kind of statement. Like, "neither of us have a clue. We just have a lot of drugs and we can buy clothes."

No wonder he and Mary didn't last fo' ever. As for Jan, I have no idea if she (the widow) is white or black. Do I care? No. 

But I care that THIS idiotic album cover was ever issued, because it does say something about race relations and cool. And some guy who dresses like a retarded pimp, and a woman who doesn't think she's being presented as a whore-maid. (Oh, wait, it was Neil Yowl who sang about wanting a maid. But not about marrying one). 

Remember, this was the time when rockers were supposed to shuck the suits, the silly psych costumes, the pretentious scarves and hats, and just get out there and play the music. THIS asshole has to dress fancy (except for the ridiculous hair and beard). 

By this time nobody cared. It was the start of 30 years of obscurity really. He was on sessions with various ex-Beatles in the 70's. Come to think of it, by the 80's all the Beatles were putting out crap if they were putting out anything at all. 

Mr. Hall of Fame (class of 2011) hadn't done all that much since the 70's, but was resurrected by Elton ("he's my biggest influence, but I named myself after John Baldry"). That album "The Union" was voted #3 of the entire year by Rolling Stone (why, Jann, why). I think I played it once or twice, tops. 

So it goes. Had he died a week earlier or a week later, more people would've cared. Had he died in 1972 people would've REALLY cared.