Montreal is the spiritual—and occasionally, temporal—home of Leonard Cohen, recently inducted into the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame. (He’s also a man awesome enough to be entitled to say crazily pretentious things—like calling concert fans “angels born of the mud”—as he did during a foul-weathered performance in Glastonbury). Montreal landmarks, like Our Lady of the Harbour (pictured above), have crept into many of his lyrics, most notably “Suzanne.” Cohen’s always been known to be somewhat of an accidental lady’s man—chicks dig that baritone croon and a guy who knows his way around a poetic couplet. He’s also no stranger to lewdness—it was reportedly Janis Joplin that was giving him head on an unmade bed in the Chelsea Hotel, which is something we do not want to think about—but it’s curious to wonder what Cohen would have to say about Montreal’s reputation as a stomping ground for the hyperactive libido.
Did we forget to mention? This French-Canadian enclave is a pervert’s paradise, thanks to certain lax laws that enable sleaze palaces to offer more than your average lap dance. Read this hilariously earnest explanation of the regulations, as well as why “sex is as much part of the Montreal culture as hockey and Celine Dion.” Meanwhile, we’ll try to keep an eye out on St. Catherine street and report which pasty, shifty-eyed rock icons are hanging around in the early morning hours. (Nick Cave, we’re watching you.)