As far as I know, Leonard Cohen hasn’t released anything remotely like a folk album since 1979’s “Recent Songs.”  

This year’s “Old Ideas” is not so much a return to form as the title suggests, but rather a substantial improvement upon Cohen’s keyboard-centric sound of the past 30 years.

More or less forced back into the business by a crooked manager and the resulting bankruptcy, Cohen has been steadily touring for the last four years. These tours have been highly praised and extremely well documented on multiple DVD and CD releases.   

Despite, or perhaps as a result of, this sudden and forceful return to the public eye and ear, “Old Ideas” is Cohen’s first proper studio album since 2004’s somewhat stagnant “Dear Heather.”

Enough build-up — I like “Old Ideas,” though I can’t get over the maybe-tasteless-maybe-tongue-in-cheek cover art.

Where to begin?

The rate at which Cohen’s voice grows deeper and deeper with each passing year never fails to surprise me. I should think it would be little more than a low rumble by now.

From the very first to the very last words sung or spoken on “Old Ideas,” Cohen’s voice sounds as suggestive and emotive as it has ever been.  

Cohen, both as a musician and poet, occupies the spotlight throughout the entirety of “Old Ideas.” It is impossible not to hear the improvements that constant touring has made to the man’s confidence and imagination.  

The ideas may be old — though I’m almost certain that they’re not — but the sound is something new, something contemplated and coherent. 

Without being limited by monotonous structure, each of the album’s 10 tracks run their course naturally, perhaps even effortlessly.

If Cohen had not started his career with such a poetically morbid and regret-fueled outlook on life and love, one might assume that his mental health is suffering from old age and its implications.  

On the contrary, I view Cohen’s persistent longing as a sign of his liveliness. Perhaps longing is as close to living as some of us can get. That is almost morbid, but may  be full of truth. 

What I find beautiful about Cohen’s words and delivery is that he does not sound hopeless — he just sounds sad as all Hell.

I wouldn’t attempt to place “Old Ideas” within the confines of any one genre. At this point in the game, Cohen is his own beast. Slap a genre-tag on any one of his 11 studio albums and Cohen’s music remains poet-music. The form that the music takes is almost irrelevant. It is all movement — movement music?

 I don’t think Cohen would care much for this review.