From the opening strains of Adam Cohen's remarkable debut album comes the unmistakable sense that we have begun a journey, one that will hopefully last a very long time. We immediately recognize Cohen's voice as the voice of reason, of emotion, of life's underbelly, of humanity's highest aspirations, all delivered with humanity and deep caring.

An artist of recognizable lineage, Adam Cohen might well have entered into this project with considerable baggage, if not outright trepidation. Instead, he pays his famous father, Leonard Cohen, the ultimate compliment. Adam is utterly original, with a sound and sensibility uniquely his own, yet related to his father in an abject honesty and absence of clutter, combined with an unexpected maturity.

"This Pain" has him singing with such disarming understatement that we are affected, infected and moved. The melody and the singer are one, each contributing to the gut-wrenching realities he addresses. And through the abstractions he employs, we see with complete clarity the plight his characters face. "It's Alright" is the salve he offers and despite the clichÈ simplicity of the title, we believe it to be true. But, just as quickly, the world can skew precipitously in a song like "Don't Mean Anything." Cohen turns his most critical eye on himself and laughs disgustedly at his own insincerity. And though comfort is hard won and woefully insufficient at times, he makes us feel that even our most pathetic tears are maybe enough in "Cry Ophelia." Skin will surely crawl as the scenario of "Sister" unfolds; this is a narrative you haven't heard before. But perhaps the most riveting story is saved for "Tell Me Everything." Friends don't sleep with each other's lovers without dire consequences and we are spared none of the unsettling details of this nasty mÈnage. "Quarterback" leaves us grateful that Cohen has an artistic outlet for feelings that might otherwise produce fatal results. Don't be surprised if you're frightened. Given the recent rumblings out of Washington, D.C., "How The Mighty Have Fallen" has a prescient quality but, given the ongoing plethora of teetering and arrogant titans in the corridors of power, perhaps it always will. But the time "Opposites Attract" wends gently by, we are helpless. We have long since given in to this music.

As in the making of all great records, Adam Cohen has not acted alone. Steve Lindsey's production stands out as Cohen's perfect accomplice: spare, quirky, and endlessly emotional. Lindsey's understanding of song structure, musical arrangement, and his choice of appropriate musicians never fails to support the singer and the song. His work accomplished the most important challenge of a debut record: it assists Adam Cohen in defining his own sound. Credit is also due engineer Gabe Veltri and mixing engineer Bob Clearmountain for their contributions to the album.

Perhaps the most distinguishing aspect of all, however, is this amazing collection of songs and the manner in which they were created. Cohen, a newcomer to the west coast, has teamed with some of today's best songwriters to create a remarkable batch of scripts to sing. Phil Roy, Tonio K., Dillon O'Brian, and Brock Walsh have blended their collaborative talents seamlessly to leave no footprints except those of Adam Cohen; no small feat. Master works in modest frames all.

The summer of 1998 promises to be a good one for Adam Cohen. And for us.

ADAM COHEN SONG BY SONG

"Tell Me Everything" -- I had a friend, a dear friend, but our relationship was very competitive. Then a girl decided she would have victory over us by seeing both of us. By sheer accident I found out, and confronted him with it, and his inability to talk to me about it was testimony to her power over us.

"Cry Ophelia" -- It's the best advice I could give to a really sad girl: "I have my shortcomings, but I've found a certain comfort in acknowledging them, and if you weren't so tense and hard on yourself you'd realize the outlet, the burst of tears, would allow the storm to pass."

"Don't Mean Anything" -- It's about betraying someone by default of complete numbness and indifference, feeling absolutely nothing and consequently being the source of another person's melancholy.

"This Pain" -- Knowing why someone wants to hurt you and accepting that they need to hurt you as much as you need to be hurt. It was written in about an hour and recorded in two or three hours--done! It's completely personal--I mean every single word of it--and as a result universal and accessible.

"Quarterback" -- It's the Unabomber, it's Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer; it's guys who use Rohypnol--a mockery and a character piece about a psycho who didn't get his way.

"Sister" -- One of my oldest friends confessed to me, after having dated my sister, that it was the closest he could get to being with me. I felt great relief to document it, my own therapy for the situation.

"Beautiful As You" -- Sometimes a glimmer, a reflection in someone's lower lip, can make you flash into a parallel universe you may mistake for love. It's a confession of the fact that I am completely unsure if I've ever been in love and a declaration of the need to know in some tangible way. It's, "Am I dreaming? Pinch me!"

"How the Mighty Have Fallen" -- The one song not based on personal experience, it's written to O.J. Simpson, Pinochet, Ceaucescu, and all the other tyrants who've gotten what they had coming.

"Opposites Attract" -- The movie Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was very moving to me, and this song is to the characters played by Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, two charismatically dysfunctional people. It's about the inescapable lousiness of romance--its treachery and its beauty--yet harmonically and melodically it's a classic piano-based singer-songwriter thing.

"Down She Goes" -- A portrait of a self-destructive girl-a young, beautiful person who could have done anything--who offered herself to me for 17 dollars. It's a journalistic take on how sad it is to see someone in a seemingly inescapable downward spiral. The bass player who played on Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Are Made for Walking" is on it, and Mark Isham played the horn solo. It's an urban, jazzy, druggy setting for a story that I try to tell in the most unemotional way possible to offset how emotional the story is.

"Amazing" -- Complete and utter disbelief that someone can have affection for you no matter how much anguish you've given them.

"It's Alright" -- We felt we needed one song to be a counterpoint to the introspective, churning, melancholic nature of record. It says, "No matter what, with all these emotional land mines we keep stumbling on, it's all OK."