Forget the fact that the average age of a Leonard Cohen audience makes a trip to the gents rather like a visit to a prostate clinic.
Forget, too, that at nearly 80 the pencil-thin Cohen moves with an old man’s lack of ease and increasingly resembles Jack Straw’s grandad.
What matters is that the gig he performed in Birmingham – lasting three hours and with repeated encores – shows an artist of extraordinary talent, invention, verve and relevance.
This was no singalong-with-Lenny tribute, but a vibrant and contemporary showcase of Cohen’s material performed by a set of musicians of great virtuosity.
Cohen interacts with his audience in a way that manages to transform even a cavernous, soulless space such as the NEC into somewhere intimate and special.
He chats easily, shares a few jokes and treats his fellow performers with courtesy and respect, remaining as still as a statue as they stand in the spotlight.
His voice is deeper than ever – here growling, there almost sonorous.
It works fantastically well with the sublime, honeyed harmonies of his long-time collaborator Sharon Robinson and the exquisite sisters Charley and Hattie Webb.
His songs are reworked, with influences of jazz, blues, country and Spanish music illuminating afresh numbers that are not the downbeat, wrist-slashing dirges that cliche would have us believe, but insightful, often witty and always humane.
Suzanne, Bird on the Wire, Tower of Song, Famous Blue Raincoat, Hallelujah, The Partisan... they come one after another.
Hurry back soon, Lenny.
