You know that feeling when a song starts and the first ten seconds just... do something to your chest? It’s that heavy, familiar vibration. Most people recognize it immediately. We’re talking about "Hallelujah." Specifically, the opening lyrics I heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord. It’s arguably the most famous opening line in the history of Canadian songwriting, maybe even modern folk-pop. But here’s the thing: Leonard Cohen wasn't just writing a pretty song about King David and some mysterious music.
He was struggling.
The song wasn't an instant hit. Far from it. When Cohen first brought the album Various Positions to Columbia Records in 1984, the head of the label, Walter Yetnikoff, famously hated it. He basically told Cohen, "Leonard, we know you're great, but we don't know if you're any good." They didn't even release it in the United States at first. Think about that. One of the most covered songs in human history was originally considered a flop by the suits in New York.
The Theology of the Secret Chord
So, what is this "secret chord" everyone keeps singing about?
If you look at the Bible—specifically the Books of Samuel—King David was known for playing the harp to soothe King Saul. Music had a literal, medicinal, and spiritual power in those stories. But Cohen, being a poet deeply immersed in both Jewish tradition and Zen Buddhism, wasn't just doing a Sunday school recap. He was talking about the frustration of creation.
The lyrics go: “It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift.” This is where Cohen gets cheeky. He’s actually describing the harmonic progression of the song as he sings it. When he says "the fourth," the song hits a F major chord (in the key of C). When he says "the fifth," it hits G major. "Minor fall" lands on A minor, and "major lift" hits F major again. It’s a meta-commentary on songwriting itself. He’s showing you the "secret" while telling you about it.
It’s brilliant.
But it’s also a bit of a trick. There is no actual secret chord that unlocks the heavens. The "secret" is the struggle to find beauty in a world that feels broken. Cohen once mentioned in an interview that he wrote around 80 draft verses for "Hallelujah." He was literally banging his head against the floor of a hotel room in New York, wearing nothing but his underwear, unable to finish the song. That’s the reality behind the "secret." It’s not magic; it’s manual labor.
Why the Lyrics I Heard There Was a Secret Chord Stick With Us
Why do we care so much?
Maybe because the song has been through so many iterations. Most of us didn't actually fall in love with Leonard Cohen’s original version. His version was synthy, heavy on the 80s production, and sounded a bit like a dark, smoky lounge act.
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Then came John Cale in 1991.
Cale, formerly of the Velvet Underground, stripped it down to just a piano. He asked Cohen to fax him the lyrics, and Cohen sent fifteen pages of verses. Cale had to sift through the "cheeky" verses and the "sincere" ones to find the heart of the song. He’s the one who created the blueprint that Jeff Buckley would later use to break everyone’s heart in 1994.
Buckley’s version changed everything. It turned the lyrics I heard there was a secret chord into a secular hymn for the lonely. He sang it with a vulnerability that felt almost invasive to listen to. Suddenly, the song wasn't about King David; it was about the agony of a breakup and the ghost of a relationship.
The Shrek Factor
It's impossible to talk about these lyrics without mentioning the big green ogre. When "Hallelujah" appeared in Shrek (the Rufus Wainwright version on the soundtrack, but the John Cale version in the film), it shifted the song into the global subconscious. It became a shorthand for "sadness."
However, Cohen himself eventually felt the song was being overused. There’s a famous story about him saying that while he was happy people liked it, he thought maybe people should stop singing it for a while. It had become a cliché at weddings, funerals, and televised talent shows like The X Factor or American Idol.
The irony? The song is actually quite sexual.
If you read the full lyrics—references to Bathsheba on the roof, the hair being cut (Samson and Delilah), the "dove" coming down—it’s a song about the intersection of carnal desire and spiritual longing. It’s not exactly the "clean" hymn people often think it is when they play it at a church service.
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Technical Breakdown of the Secret Chord
Musically, the song is in 12/8 time. It feels like a waltz but with more gravity.
- The C Major Foundation: The song starts on the root. It’s stable.
- The F and G Pivot: These are the "fourth" and "fifth." They create tension.
- The A Minor: This is the "minor fall." It provides the emotional gut-punch.
- The F Major: The "major lift." It offers a moment of hope before the chorus.
When people search for the lyrics I heard there was a secret chord, they are often looking for the tabs or the sheet music to replicate that feeling. But as any guitar teacher will tell you, you can play those chords perfectly and still miss the point. The "Hallelujah" Cohen writes about isn't a celebratory shout. It’s a "cold and broken" Hallelujah. It’s the sound of someone who has lost everything but still manages to find one last note to sing.
Different Interpretations of the Lyrics
Is it religious? Is it erotic? Is it just a song about music?
The truth is, it’s all of them. Leonard Cohen was a master of the "both/and" philosophy. He didn't see a contradiction between the holy and the profane. In his mind, the "secret chord" was whatever gets you through the night.
- The Religious View: King David’s music as a direct line to God.
- The Romantic View: The "secret chord" is the unique connection between two lovers that eventually goes out of tune.
- The Artistic View: The impossible quest for perfection in a creative work.
What Most People Get Wrong
People often think the song is a straight-up cover of a biblical story. It’s not. Cohen uses the Bible as a playground. He mixes the story of David and Bathsheba with the story of Samson and Delilah. In the lyrics, the woman "tied you to a kitchen chair" and "broke your throne" and "cut your hair."
In the Bible, these are two different guys. David was the one who saw the woman bathing on the roof. Samson was the one who had his hair cut by Delilah. Cohen mashes them together because he’s talking about the archetypal experience of being defeated by love. He’s saying that even the strongest, most "anointed" men are reduced to nothing by the people they desire.
It’s a gritty, human take on mythology.
Actionable Insights for Music Lovers
If you're trying to truly understand or even perform this song, don't focus on the "secret" part. Focus on the "broken" part.
- Study the John Cale Version: If you want to understand the structure, listen to his 1991 recording on the tribute album I'm Your Fan. It’s the bridge between Cohen’s 80s synth and Buckley’s ethereal folk.
- Read the Poetry: Look up the additional verses that aren't usually in the radio edits. Verses about the "holy dove" and "the light in every word" add layers of meaning that most people miss.
- Mind the Tempo: The 12/8 time signature is key. If you play it too fast, it loses the "broken" feel. It needs to breathe. It needs to feel like it might fall apart at any second.
- Acknowledge the Context: Remember that this song was written by a man in his 50s who thought his career might be over. That desperation is baked into the DNA of the lyrics.
The next time you hear those opening lines—lyrics I heard there was a secret chord—remember that the song isn't asking you to be perfect. It’s an invitation to acknowledge that things are messy, that love is a "victory march" but also a "cold and broken" cry, and that the only thing left to do is sing about it anyway.
To truly appreciate the depth of "Hallelujah," listen to Leonard Cohen's final "Live in London" version. You can hear his voice—gravelly, aged, and wise—reclaiming the song from the thousands of pop stars who tried to make it pretty. It was never meant to be pretty. It was meant to be true.