Van Morrison (N-IRE)
01/20/05 AB, Brussels
Casual class and riveting routine
Many years ago, I drew up a list of big rock artists whom I'd still like to see. In the meantime, the list has become quite short, as I've seen Neil Young, David Bowie, The Who, Page & Plant, Richard Thompson and, more recently, Randy Newman and now also Van Morrison. For some reason, I have no desire whatsoever to see the world's biggest jukebox - The Rolling Stones - in action. I'm only left with Tom Waits and AC/DC now; I've given up on ever seeing Waits*, but next time when AC/DC pays this little country a visit, guess who'll be pumpin' his fist on the front row? Right. Anyway, you'll have a hard timing finding anyone who'll tell you the grumpy genius from Northern-Ireland is still churning out albums on a par with Astral Weeks, Moondance or Saint Dominic's Preview, fantastic albums that still sound as original as they must've sounded more than three decades ago; but instead of releasing sub-par albums like The Rolling Stones, he's continued to do his own thing and deliver slightly altered versions of his unique cocktail of blues, jazz, soul, folk and old-fashioned rock 'n' roll. The specific band he brought along - consisting of sax, trumpet, guitar, piano/organ, bass and drums - suggested it would be a night filled with laidback rhythm & blues, but that couldn't suppress my moderate excitement. I mean, VAN MORRISON, the man who brought you "Domino," "Caravan," "The Way Young Lovers Do," "Into the Mystic" and many, many other awesome songs! Predictably, the set didn't contain that many songs from his earliest solo albums, but it did offer a nice alternation of some familiar tunes, more recent (lesser-known) material and a nice bonus at the end for those who came to hear a few hits. The band kicked off the instrumental "Inarticulate Speech of the Heart" without Van, and it immediately became clear that R&B and jazzy touches would be the key ingredients, as horn solos were alternated, until the big guy himself walked onto the stage (sporting a nice suit, a hat and sunglasses) to blow along on his alto. While the first half of the set contained some less familiar material and new cuts, the presence of a swinging "Have I told You" and "Tore Down à La Rimbaud" were especially surprising. I mean, you'd expect him to save the classic bedroom ballad until the finish and not imagine him to come up with "Rimbaud" at all. The sound was immaculate, the playing was immaculate, the audience's behaviour was respectful and - how did you know? - immaculate, as the set flowed on. Basically, there was nothing wrong with it - Van was even in good spirits, havin' FUN - but it did come off as somewhat of a routine effort. The man's unquestionably incredibly gifted, it's perplexing how nonchalantly he comes up with brilliant phrasings and accents although his register is no longer what it used to be, but he'd left the spontaneity in Ireland, or wherever he lives for the moment. When the band subtly glided into "Moondance," the audience's response was almost ecstatic and from then on, the song turned into something of a key moment in the set, as the band (expertly guided by the trumpeter, who swayed his hands, giving not to be misinterpreted signs, like a baseball coach) became more lively and Morrison invited soul singer Chris Farlowe onstage to join him for The Healing Game's "Sometimes We Cry." Farlowe's joyful presence seemed to lift both Morrison and the band to another level, as the remainder of the set easily trampled the more restrained opening. Since his albums have paid their debts to his roots, some old favourites couldn't be forgotten, so the band rocked through "Stop Drinking" and "Brand New Cadillac" (no, that ain't a Clash-song) with the fervour of the classic proto-rock 'n' roll units and next delivered spirited performances of the up-tempo blues "Goin' Down Geneva," the playful "Back on Top" and a marvellous "Precious Time," which obliterated its studio counterpart on Back on Top. For a moment, I was hoping he would also play personal favourite "High Summer," but then the set came to an end. Or it seemed to, as Morrison returned before the audience even started to yell for more. Unexpectedly (to me at least, as I didn't know hedid that kind of thing), he then played three of his most famous songs. "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue," sung along by a large part of the audience, was the evening's chicken skin moment, but "Brown-Eyed Girl" was almost equally impressive. To top it off, Van & Band started off the mother of all garage rock songs (because it's better than "Louie Louie," if you ask me): Them's "Gloria." Even if it was too restrained to contain the ferocious energy of the 60's classic, it was done with humour (the interaction between Farlowe and Morrison was especially amusing) and class. And then it was over, even though the audience yelled for more and more and more. It certainly wasn't a triumph or anything - Van doesn't break any hearts or rules anymore -, but the man's unique touch and commanding style lifted the set (the second half at least) way above average and even granted us some moments of sheer enjoyment. On behalf of the youngster brigade: thanks Van, for the music and for not leaving the stage halfway the set.
* Tom Waits actually played here a few months ago. The venue was way too small (it could hold about 900 people, which is not enough if you visit this country, like, once a decade) and you could only order tickets (max. 2) by phone. Of all the people I know (I can think of about two dozen), NONE managed to get his/her hands on tickets, yet reports on diverse fora pointed out that the amount of local "celebrities" (musicians, actors, TV-people, etc) who attended the show was, simply put, ridiculous. Ain't that coincidence? Put otherwise: AIN'T THAT A BIG FUCKING JOKE? But OK, that's a different story…