Leonard Cohen has the kind of voice that makes you want to get naked and wrap your legs around someone—preferably in a dank hotel room in some god-forsaken urban landscape somewhere.

The sleazy hotel-room scenario is part of his mystique, after all. He’s one of the greats who got their juices flowing in the “cauldron of creativity” known as The Hotel Chelsea. Others who have waxed legendary from these roots include Moondog, Bob Dylan, Nico, Janis Joplin and artists of other mediums like William S. Burroughs and R. Crumb. The artists who have staggered down the notorious New York hotel’s hallways all seem to have been imbued by its inherent grit and rebelliousness. No doubt ravaged by the dust mites of Chelsea Hotel mattresses, Cohen’s coarse-velvet voice and somber lyrics have entranced and inspired countless musicians.

People unfamiliar with the Cohen name immediately recognize “Everybody Knows,” off the 1977 album Death of a Ladies’ Man, in which Cohen’s hot coal of a voice coaxes licking flames out of even the most dormant of embers.

Since his Chelsea days, Cohen’s music has morphed from ragged acoustic folk-rock to synthed-up funk stylings to its current jazz incarnation, which I shrink from. Nevertheless, his late ’60s and ’70s stuff is just like honey: you have to get stung a little in order to taste its sweetness.

With that said, we can all get really excited about going to see the new Leonard Cohen documentary “I’m Your Man,” scheduled for release June 21, right? Wrong. Whose fault is that? It’s Bono’s fault.

Watch the film’s trailer here and you’ll see that the miserable mug of U2 ring-leader Bono gets almost as much airtime as Cohen’s. What I want to know is what the hell Bono is doing there in the first place. How on earth could U2 be even remotely associated with Cohen? I find this very disturbing. I will never understand how U2 continues to rake in millions with their washed-up, megalomaniacal cringe-fests.

On the film’s website, U2’s The Edge spits up trite biblical quotage like, “Cohen comes down from the mountaintop with the tablets of stone.” WTF is that?! And why is U2 placed above Nick Cave and Rufus Wainwright on the list of featured artists? This is obviously not an underground documentary about an underground great. It appears to be a very conventional, yuppified, red-velvet showcasing of a film.

It all makes me a little sad, but perhaps I need to get over it. Cohen isn’t writing downtrodden lyrics back at the Chelsea anymore.