Record Reviews
📝 2096 reviews| Artist | Title | Review |
|---|---|---|
| Van Morrison | Millenium Collection | <p>Digimode Entertainment's Van Morrison compilation Millenium Collection [sic] is, like New York Sessions '67 (1997), Brown Eyed Beginnings (1998), and the label's own Brown Eyed Girl [Digimode] (1998), a repackaging of the 1994 album Payin' Dues. Payin' Dues was the first album to combine the previously released recordings Morrison made for Bang Records at the start of his solo career (some of which were issued initially on the album Blowin' Your Mind! in 1967, including the Top Ten hit "Brown Eyed Girl") with a bizarre collection of off-the-cuff musical performances Morrison made, strumming an acoustic guitar and seemingly singing whatever came into his head, apparently in order to fulfill the terms of his Bang contract. Early on in this one-of-a-kind improvisation, credited as a 35-plus-minute "Jamming Session" on the album cover, but actually broken down into individual tracks on the second disc, Morrison seems to be trying at least half-heartedly to come up with songs, but by the 14th fragment he has started singing about how he's waiting for his royalty check. After that, things get really strange. Twenty-two tracks in, he is giving his own potted history of his career on Bang, derisively referring to his album, with its psychedelic cover, as "Blowin' Your Nose," then "Nosin' Your Blow." It has to be heard to be believed. The first disc contains some valuable early Morrison material, including versions of "Beside You" and "Madame George," later to turn up on the 1968 masterpiece Astral Weeks. But the "Jamming Session" is a hoot.</p><p>—<strong>William Ruhlmann</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Hard Nose To The Highway | <p>Although it marks a decline from the astonishing run of five great albums Van Morrison had made from 1968 through 1972, Hard Nose the Highway is still a respectable, if uneven, effort, notably containing "Snow in San Anselmo" (which features the Oakland Symphony Chamber Chorus) and "Warm Love." Nevertheless, it marks the end of Morrison's greatest period of creativity and accomplishment.</p><p>—<strong>William Ruhlmann</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | It's Too Late To Stop Now | <p>While Van Morrison is, to be kind, an erratic and temperamental live performer, he's in stellar form throughout the double album It's Too Late to Stop Now, a superb concert set that neatly summarizes his career from his days with Them (represented by scorching renditions of "Gloria" and "Here Comes the Night") through 1973's Hard Nose the Highway ("Warm Love," "Wild Children"). In addition to the hits, including "Caravan," "Domino," and "Into the Mystic" (the final line of which gives the album its title), Morrison even pulls out a handful of R&B chestnuts ("Bring It on Home to Me," "Ain't Nothin' You Can Do") before capping off the collection with a show-stopping rendition of Astral Weeks' "Cyprus Avenue." An engaging, warm portrait of the man at the peak of his powers.</p><p>—<strong>Jason Ankeny</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | It's Too Late To Stop Now [Remaster] | <p>While Van Morrison is, to be kind, an erratic and temperamental live performer, he's in stellar form throughout the double album It's Too Late to Stop Now, a superb concert set that neatly summarizes his career from his days with Them (represented by scorching renditions of "Gloria" and "Here Comes the Night") through 1973's Hard Nose the Highway ("Warm Love," "Wild Children"). In addition to the hits, including "Caravan," "Domino," and "Into the Mystic" (the final line of which gives the album its title), Morrison even pulls out a handful of R&B chestnuts ("Bring It on Home to Me," "Ain't Nothin' You Can Do") before capping off the collection with a show-stopping rendition of Astral Weeks' "Cyprus Avenue." An engaging, warm portrait of the man at the peak of his powers.</p><p>—<strong>Jason Ankeny</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Wavelength | <p>Wavelength essentially picks up where A Period of Transition left off, offering a focused, full-bodied alternative to that record's warmly fuzzy lack of direction. Like that album, it's hardly a major entry in his catalog, but there are signs that Van Morrison is finding his footing for his latter-day voice. Again, the primary appeal of this record is its atmosphere, a charmingly relaxed outing, high on mildly swinging mid-tempo numbers and round, welcoming ballads. Surely, an album of subtle pleasures like this is primarily for the converted, but once you're there, it's hard to resist Wavelength.</p><p>—<strong>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Common One | <p>Van Morrison was working through one of his greatest -- yet least appreciated -- creative periods when he made this album, one that burrows deeply into an introspective jazz-rooted spiritual groove. With Mark Isham's lonely muted trumpet up front, listeners are in the jazz world immediately with "Haunts of Ancient Peace," merging perfectly with Morrison's idiosyncratic vocal style. A low-pressure soul-jazz organ riff lays down the base of the most easily assimilated track, "Satisfied," as Morrison's lyric indicates that he has reached a state of internal peace. "Wild Honey" has R&B horn riffs over Philly-style strings, while "Spirit" mostly pursues a self-fulfillment path similar to that of "Satisfied." Ultimately, the record stands or falls upon two remarkable, gigantic 15-minute pieces, "Summertime in England" and "When Heart Is Open." The propulsive opening of "Summertime" drops names of Morrison's favorite poets and authors; the track teeters upon indulgence but you are drawn in by Morrison's obsessions with lines and phrases like "common one" and "let your red robe go," his voice becoming a twin brother of arranger Pee Wee Ellis' riffing sax. Lonely horns over the hilltops open "When Heart Is Open," and it begins to resemble a sequel to Miles Davis' treatment of "In a Silent Way," setting a peaceful, mesmerizing mood that carries you through its enormous length to the end of the record. No wonder the rock critics of the time didn't get it; this is music outside the pop mainstream, and even Morrison's own earlier musical territory. But it retains its trancelike power to this day.</p><p>—<strong>Richard S. Ginell</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Live At Montreux (DVD) | <p>The Live at Montreux DVD series has already released titles by countless legends, including Lou Reed, Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye and Alice Cooper. Its latest offering revisits two classic Van Morrison concerts culled from the famous jazz festival of the same name, resulting in a deluxe double disc with extensive liner notes. Believe it or not, Morrison has never released an official concert DVD until now, previously only appearing in various VHS incarnations or television specials. While this conversion of sets from 1974 and 1980 may have been long overdue, the collection is well worth the wait (especially in a day in age when this particular performer is charging higher ticket prices and playing less material).</p><p>The 1980 performance is actually the best of the pair, if only for its expanded set list and treatment of Morrison's more notable cuts. Along with a sterling backing band laced in soul, R&B, jazz and pop, he nestles into muscular versions of "Wavelength" and "Kingdom Hall," demonstrating lead guitar licks and rich vocal presentation. "Moondance" is particularly magical, carrying on with ample band improv that thankfully never becomes overly extravagant, while "Wild Night" is a smoky rave up that puts to shame John Mellencamp's mediocre comeback cover. The concert concludes with "Angelou," a slow jazz jam that mounts with remarkable passion and beauty, simmering out the exceptional evening on a tender note.</p><p>Dipping back even further in time is the 1974 disc, a much shorter offering with only nine songs, but one that's still vital, showcasing an even younger, more spirited Morrison. The digital restoration and new remixes are especially evident on this piece of vintage footage, which also encompasses several of the singer/songwriter's earlier chestnuts, such as the high pitched powerhouse "Twilight Zone," the horn heavy "Heathrow Shuffle" and the husky handed "Naked In the Jungle." While more casual fans will miss "Brown Eyed Girl" and the recurring live romp "Gloria," there's still plenty to savor in this impressive package. It will also take faithful followers back to the days when Morrison was a little more spontaneous and lively as a showman (long before the days of diva-like behavior or uneven album output), cementing his place as a pioneering blue-eyed soul force.</p><p>— <strong>Andy Argyrakis</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Beautiful Vision | <P>Beautiful Vision shares much sonically with its predecessor, Common One, being heavy on long, winding song-poems, moderate tempos, dense lyricism, and dated production. Still, this winds up being a stronger articulation of what Morrison was attempting to do on Common One — much like how Wavelength got A Period of Transition right. That doesn't mean that this is a particularly easy album to warm to, since Morrison seems to be consciously creating an insular world here, only of interest to those willing to delve deeply into his own world, letting his elliptical melodies charm instead of frustrate, to let the leisurely pace seduce rather than lull. Once you do that, the record reveals such charming moments as "She Gives Me Religion," "Beautiful Vision," and "Cleaning Windows," a skipping light R&B tune that became one of his latter-day standards. Too much of Beautiful Vision is the product of a willfully idiosyncratic yet oddly measured vision to make it essential for anyone other than diehards, but moments such as that make it worth a listen.</P><P>— <B>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</B></P> |
| Van Morrison | A Sense Of Wonder | <p>Van Morrison's U.S. label debut with Polygram (which had issued his Live at the Grand Opera House Belfast album in England earlier) is a strong effort, mixing some of his familiar influences -- R&B, poetry, mysticism -- on such characteristic tracks as "Tore Down a la Rimbaud." It might be fair to say that, by now, Morrison's fans had heard what he had to say and the rest was just repetition, but he continued to write and perform at a high level at this mature stage in his career.</p><p>—<strong>William Ruhlmann</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Irish Heartbeat | <p>On their wide musical journeys in the '80s, the Chieftains decided to collaborate with Van Morrison, who had an artistic peak at the end of the decade. The result was a highlight in both of their '80s productions: the traditional Irish Heartbeat, with Morrison on lead vocals and a guest appearance from the Mary Black. Morrisonand Moloney's production puts the vocals up front with a sparse background, sometimes with a backdrop of intertwining strings and flutes, the same way Morrison would later use the Chieftains on his Hymns to the Silence. The arrangement and the artist's engaged singing leads to a brilliant result, and these Irish classics are made very accessible without being transformed into pop songs. Of the ten tracks included, eight are Irish trads. The title track and "Celtic Ray" are written by Morrison, and also appear on Beautiful Vision and Inarticulate Speech of the Heart, but since they are written in a pseudo traditional style, the folksy treatment given them by the Chieftains makes these versions sound as if they were the originals.</p><p>—<strong>Lars Lovén</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Best Of Van Morrison Volume 2 | <p>No big hit singles are here, or even familiar songs for that matter. Van Morrison compiled 1993's The Best of Van Morrison, Vol. 2 himself, leaning heavily toward his then-recent work. As an anthology, it doesn't completely work, since it's uneven and lacking a sense of scope; what makes the album fascinating is to see how Morrison views himself. Although there are many good (even great) songs here, Vol. 2 only works as an introduction to Morrison's idiosyncratic recent work instead of his entire career.</p><p>—<strong>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | A Night In San Fransisco | <p>Van Morrison's third commercially released live album takes a show format that frequently spotlights the backup band, led by organist/singer Georgie Fame and featuring singers Brian Kennedy and James Hunter, as well as saxophonist Candy Dulfer and blues singers John Lee Hooker, Junior Wells, and Jimmy Witherspoon. Even Morrison's daughter Shana comes on to sing his "Beautiful Vision." The material is not limited to Morrison compositions, either. In fact, it isn't so much that Morrison and company cover a variety of rock, pop, blues, R&B, and jazz standards as that many pieces are medleys that contain complete songs and quotes from others, rather in the way that a jazz soloist will suddenly throw in a few bars of a familiar tune. Those who want to see Morrison as an esoteric singer/songwriter rather than a showman may find this album a mongrel creation, but it's undeniably lively, and that's the first requirement of a live album.</p><p>—<strong>William Ruhlmann</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Gloria (EP) | |
| Van Morrison | The Philosopher's Stone | <p>Van Morrison has always been a prolific artist, releasing nearly an album a year for 30 years. All the while, he had a stockpile of unreleased material in the vaults, much of which became legendary among collectors. A selection of this material was planned for inclusion in a box set, but when he realized the sheer amount of worthy material, he decided to separate the unreleased cuts and release them as the double-disc set The Philosopher's Stone. Certainly, the collection is for fans, but not just hardcore fans -- there are a number of great songs here, from "Madame Joy" and "Naked in the Jungle" to "Crazy Jane on God" and "The Street Only Knew Your Name." A full 25 of the 30 tracks on the album have never been released in any form, while the remaining five -- "Wonderful Remark," "Real Real Gone," "Flamingoes Fly," "The Street Only Knew Your Name," and "Bright Side of the Road" -- are present in alternate takes. In all, The Philosopher's Stone is a welcome addition to Van Morrison's official catalog -- some of these songs are so good, it would have been a shame if they had stayed locked in the vaults.</p><p>—<strong>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Down The Road | <p>After spending much of the 1990s expressing his bitterness with the modern world in albums like Hymns to the Silence and Days Like This, Van Morrison sought to overcome his bile toward the end of the decade, declaring himself Back on Top by 1999. (His fans concurred; the album was his highest-charting effort in more than 20 years and earned a gold record.) He then took an uncharacteristically long three years to make a new original album, though he produced two side projects, the live Skiffle Sessions: Live in Belfast 1998 and You Win Again, a duet record with Linda Gail Lewis, in between. Down the Road is not bitter, but it does look to the past continually and with longing. Musically, it mixes R&B and jazz with bits of country (especially on "What Makes the Irish Heart Beat") and folk, all conjured from the singer's 1950s youth. Lyrically, it deliberately makes use of blues clichés and catch phrases to tell its tales of struggle, recollection, and regret. The album cover depicts the front of a record store, Music and Memorabilia, with a window full of LP covers by blues, R&B, jazz, and old rock & roll artists, and the music inside corresponds to that picture, in spirit if not always in style. A key song, and a curious one, is "Whatever Happened to PJ Proby?," in which Morrison identifies himself with trendy British pop singers of the early '60s, including Scott Walker and Screaming Lord Sutch. It's hard to imagine that he really thinks he belongs in their company, but he seems both sincere and pained as he concludes, "And whatever happened to me?" If such humility is sincere, it may help explain why Morrison has rejected the trappings of fame all these years, and it makes him all the more endearing.</p><p>—<strong>William Ruhlmann</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | At The Movies - Soundtrack Hits | <p>Van Morrison's music has always been evocative of time, place, and a range of emotions, so it's natural that many a film director has chosen his songs for soundtrack purposes. This collection of 19 Morrison recordings that have been placed either prominently or subliminally in films spans his career, from his earliest sides with Them ("Gloria," used in 1983's The Outsiders, "Baby Please Don't Go," from 1990s Wild at Heart) up through his surprising cover of Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" for the 2006 film The Departed. While there are some left-field choices, among them his collaboration with the Chieftains on "Irish Heartbeat," as well as "Bright Side of the Road" (from 1997's Fever Pitch) and "Someone Like You," a song from Morrison's Poetic Champions Compose album that was used in 1995's French Kiss, the collection also doubles as a passable Morrison greatest hits. "Brown Eyed Girl" finds its way in via Born on the Fourth of July, "Have I Told You Lately?" qualifies for its appearance in One Fine Day, and "Wild Night" makes it thanks to Thelma & Louise. Unfortunately, the compilers resorted several times to live versions of popular Morrison tunes rather than the studio versions that were actually used in the films. Thus, classic Morrison tracks such as "Domino," "Into the Mystic," "Moondance" (this version is previously unreleased), and "Caravan," while technically representing certain films, are also cheats.</p><p>—<strong>Jeff Tamarkin</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | The Best Of Van Morrison - Volume 3 | <p>Van Morrison stopped having hits long before the release of the second volume of The Best of Van Morrison in 1993, so it's not practical to assume that its double-disc successor -- delivered a whopping 14 years later, compared to the three separating the first two volumes -- has songs that are familiar to a general audience. Nor should it be assumed that this is a collection of great songs that he's written in that decade-and-a-half, since this is chock-full of covers, including revivals of songs he recorded throughout his career. Furthermore, a full 14 songs -- the length of the first disc of this comp -- are credited as collaborations, and include some previously unreleased cuts that can be counted among a handful of rarities here. It's idiosyncratic, which perhaps could be expected from any comp assembled by the artist himself, but it's also accurate, and it helps makes sense of a rather odd stretch of album-making in a way that's necessary. Taken one at a time, Van's excursions into jazz, country, even skiffle seemed odd, but condensed into this 31-track set, it not only makes sense, it makes an argument that Van has been more true -- if not necessarily vital -- than many of his peers in his latter days. Instead of churning out songs that he's not inspired to write, he's relying on standards to find himself, and finding more inspiration in singing with others than flying solo. As individual records, some of these albums were bewildering, some were quite wonderful, but excerpted and sculpted into something resembling a testimonial, if not a narrative, it's easier to understand what Morrison was up to during a span where he never delivered one album as acclaimed or vital as Dylan or Young (or even McCartney or the Stones), but this goes a long way to proving that hardly means he stopped making good music. If anything, listening to his music in this fashion makes a strong argument for the value of this decade-and-a-half of recording better than any individual Van album from this time, so it's as worthy a listen for those fans who have followed him loyally over these 15 years as it is for those who bowed out around the time of the last The Best of Van Morrison.</p><p>—<strong>Stephen Thomas Erlewine</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Still On Top | <p>There are 21 cuts on this Hip-O collection of Van Morrison's Greatest Hits. The interesting thing is that of these 21 cuts, only about half of them will be recognizable to the casual Van Morrison fan, as they come from his Bang sides and the far more popular Warner Brothers singles of the early '70s. As it should be, although there is one glaring omission: "Tupelo Honey" is absent from the song list. The rest may not have been greatest hits in America, but they do represent a fine -- if arguable -- selection of the material from the late '70s, '80s, and '90s. "Dweller on the Threshold" is here (though it sounds like an alternate take!) There is a bona fide alternate take of "The Healing Game" that sounds more like a well-executed demo and has plenty of Celtic soul. "Someone Like You" is here, as is "Wavelength," and some tunes that deserved far better than they got: "Tore Down à la Rimbaud," "Real Real Gone," "Bright Side of the Road," "Days Like This," and "Stranded." The early tunes are immediately recognizable, from "Brown Eyed Girl," "Gloria," "Here Comes the Night," "Domino," "Moondance," "Wild Night," and "Jackie Wilson Said (I'm In Heaven)." In sum, as far as the many repackaged greatest hits, this is one of the better ones as it is cross-licensed and contains a true evolutionary portrait of the artist on a journey that certainly winds and turns back on itself even as it moves forward. This is a good one with fine sound. [Polydor's 2007 Canadian edition added 16 tracks across its two-CD set.]</p><p>—<strong>Thom Jurek</strong></p> |
| Van Morrison | Astral Weeks Live At The Hollywood Bowl | <p>When an artist decides to perform a classic album in concert, the possibilities for disaster are myriad. Van Morrison's Astral Weeks had never been performed as a cycle before these performances at the Hollywood Bowl. With only one full band rehearsal, Van responded by bringing this mythic material to life with a rock showman's sense of audacity, a poet's vulnerability, a jazzman's sense of timing, and the mastery of a singer who knows where to find the hidden magic in his material. Morrison took the original track order and shuffled it to make it flow better live. He extended most tunes, turning some into mini-suites while tightening others. His well-seasoned lower register voice turned the wonder of a boy in 1968 into the spiritual receptivity and wisdom of a man who has weathered 40 more seasons of discontent and heartbreak.</p><p>The title track opens the set with that familiar up and down acoustic bassline andJay Berliner's nylon string guitar playing blues and jazz runs as Van keeps the first rhythm guitar chair down.(Berliner was lead guitarist on the original Astral Weeks sessions.) It's a tiny bit faster, but the flow is impeccable as skeletal strings come pouring through in the gaps. There is a beautiful sense of space as Tony Fitzgibbon's violin and viola solos come through in the middle and Richie Buckley's flute hovers from the margins. Morrison lets his players shine; he rises to improve with them, feeling his lyrics anew. He adds more gospel flavor to the tune, which is rooted there anyway with "I Believe I've Transcended." And you believe him. The live mix clicks and crackles; it's raw, full, and immediate, without overdubs.</p><p>The track order changes after "Beside You." It lilts and wanders with beautiful vibe work and Berliner's guitar. The first real surprise is "Slim Slow Slider," the closing cut on the original set is the third one here. The deep sorrow, helplessness, and dread in the tune is captured through melancholy memory, balanced by a sense of the previous, not weighted so much with trouble. But Morrison's present tense protagonist is engulfed in pain and confesses the weight is more than he can bear in the effortless segue called "I Start Breakin' Down." The drama is so arresting the listener can forget to breathe. The blues are heavy, the droning hypnotic Celtic ones that is, and they are never static. "Sweet Thing," and "The Way Young Lovers Do," are placed in succession here; they lock the listener in a breezy yet tight swinging groove. The strings caress Morrison's lyric without sweetness; the guitars create a bridge to deliver a strutting "Cypress Avenue," which is appended seamlessly with the killer bluesy soul of "You Come Walkin' Down." "Ballerina," slows it down again and Morrison delivers his best vocal performance of the evening, though "Madame George," which closes out the Astral Weeks material, is a close second; these cuts are simply an amazing one-two knockout. The band and the singer gel perfectly. There are two amazing encores: a dynamite, even shockingly spiritual autobiographical read of "Listen to the Lion" from 1972's Saint Dominic's Preview with saxophones, guitars, and strings all pushing against his vocal that moans and wails and roars before breaking through. The night ends with a sultry, scatting read of the title cut from 1980's Common One.</p><p>Astral Weeks: Live at the Hollywood Bowl is not Astral Weeks, but it's brilliant and emotionally intense; it's honest and spiritually revealing. Morrison not only inhabits these songs 40 years later, but he fully understands them; making for a extremely engaging and necessary document from an artist who still has plenty of fire in his belly.</p><p>— <strong>Thom Jurek</strong></p><p>I loved the idea of Astral Weeks before I loved Astral Weeks. I'm sure I'm not alone. Irishman who sang proto-punk "Gloria" and drunken dorm-formal singalong "Brown Eyed Girl" and went on to do Moondance goes into a midtown Manhattan studio with top-notch jazz sessionmen. Pours out stream-of-consciousness stuff about love, rebirth, and a pain that passes all understanding, in an impressionistic folk-jazz-blues idiom that transcends existing rock conventions. Nobody buys it. A decade later, Lester Bangs calls Astral Weeks "a mystical document." In 1995, MOJO ranks it the #2 album of all time; eight years later, Rolling Stone ranks it #19; in between, damn thing finally goes gold. To a hopeless romantic, what's not to love?</p><p>Only Astral Weeks the album could live up to Astral Weeks the legend. A 23-year-old Van Morrison howls, he hollers, he cajoles, he grabs hold of the ineffable and caresses its edges, bending and reiterating it like an instrumental virtuoso. Guitarist Jay Berliner (Charles Mingus' The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady), bassist Richard Davis (Eric Dolphy's Out to Lunch), and drummer Connie Kay (of the Modern Jazz Quartet) create an improvisatory space for Morrison's haunted freeform meditations; Larry Fallon's overdubs add strings, woodwinds, and harpsichord. You breathe in you breathe out, baby baby baby, way upon way upon, dry your eye your eye your eye, too late to stop now, the love that loves the love that loves the love that loves the love that loves to love the love that loves to love the love that loves, I know you're dying. The legend is with the album, and the legend is the album.</p><p>Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl was a pair of concerts held last year at the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles, honoring the legendary album (scheduled to be reprised February 27 and 28 at New York's Theater at Madison Square Garden). Now Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl is also an album honoring the shows that honored that legendary album. Sadly, one thing that this record isn't: legendary.</p><p>Astral Weeks was released 40 years, almost to the day, before Van Morrison performed the whole thing live two straight nights last November. "We did the songs and took them somewhere else. Transcended the originals, if you know what I mean." That's Morrison talking to the Associated Press recently. The shows featured guitarist Berliner from the 1968 sessions, along with other previous Morrison collaborators and a full string section; they were generally well-reviewed. As recorded on Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl, the performances retain the improvisatory approach from the record, right down to changing the song order-- the all-loving, possibly transvestite-themed, vaguely pro-civil-rights hymn "Madame George" now closes, rather than atmospheric mortality rumination "Slim Slow Slider". There's much rejoicing.</p><p>I guess you had to be there. On disc, Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl is a bland, bluesy celebration you can afford to miss. Oh, it still consists mostly of great songs-- the two "bonus" tracks slightly less so-- performed with skill, and recorded at fine quality, but it's hard to imagine why anyone other than souvenir-seekers or live-music absolutists would need to listen to this more than once as long as the original LP remains in print. An album brave enough to embrace life in all its ugliness and anguish, right on through to its inevitable end, becomes just another document of the rock'n'roll generation's stubborn confidence it will outlive itself. Sort of like those Dick Clark teeth on the cover.</p><p>"I believe I've transcended," Morrison sings on an extended outro to the opening, title track. "Slim Slow Slider" is now jammy, incongruously upbeat, fixed in time and place by the live audience-- some guy loudly cheers the song's placement after a newly percussion-crowded "Beside You". An ignoble thunk disrupts the harpsichord in the left speaker near the start of "Cyprus Avenue", which now inexplicably follows swinger "The Way Young Lovers Do"-- and lacks the dramatic, showstopping interlude described by Bangs, documented on 1974's It's Too Late to Stop Now live LP. Morrison's voice here is heavier, still distinguished, but as he slurs his way through the ordinarily sublime verses of "Sweet Thing" before breaking off for a superfluous harmonica solo, this much is clear: A work of art can withstand the ages. People never do.</p><p>A high point is "Ballerina", the possibly prostitute-themed song where Morrison's voice sounds richer and fuller; his growled "get on up!" evokes both James Brown and Morrison's own Brown-esque "good God!" barks back in his youth. "Madame George" ends with Morrison's communal invocation to "get on the train"-- well, actually, it ends with some hokey guy shouting Van Morrison's name over and over into a microphone. Still, better than the drippy bonus track version of "Listen to the Lion", originally from St. Dominic's Preview, where the same dude bellows, "Vaaaan Morrison! The one! The only!" as a saxophone hits barge-like brown notes. If it sounds like I'm overstating my complaints, it's only because listening side by side with Astral Weeks can't help but magnify them. You don't need Pet Sounds Live, either.</p><p>There's a case to be made that Astral Weeks, the album, never quite captured Astral Weeks, the idea. Morrison has complained about producer Lewis Merenstein's chosen running order. Then again, he has also denigrated his accompanists and described Astral Weeks as a "rock opera". The repetitions in Morrison's songs carry over to his discography: Prior to Astral Weeks, he recorded other studio versions of "Madame George" and "Beside You". A 10-minute "Slim Slow Slider" was supposedly edited down to 3:18; nothing's set in stone. OK, so maybe what Astral Weeks represents to so many of us can't be perfectly recorded, whether on vinyl or in 1s and 0s-- definitely not in words. But I can feel it in my bones when I listen to the original album (turn it up, so you know it's got soul). When I listen to Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl, I just feel lonely, and old.</p><p>— <strong>Marc Hogan, Pitchfork</strong></p> |
| Steve Morse | The Introduction |
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