Reviewed in this essay:
The Essential Van Morrison – Van Morrison (Legacy, 2015)
T.B. Sheets – Van Morrison (Bang/Columbia, 1973)
What is about Van Morrison that inspires such loyalty and passion? While I’m sure there are a casual Van fans, most people I know either fall into two camps: they know of him, but just a couple of the big singles or they’re hopelessly in love with the man’s music.
When I say hopelessly in love, I mean absolutely, completely, in-over-their-head and hopeless kinda love. I’ve traded emails with a guy who keeps track of what music he listens to and he’s literally listened to Van Morrison thousands of times. I know people who collect albums, outtake compilations and bootlegs for the guy. And hell, a show of his broadcast over KSAN in 1971 is said to the most bootlegged performance ever. More than The Beatles, the Stones, or Bob Dylan. Not bad for a short, stout Irish guy.
Maybe it’s the voice. Van Morrison’s singing is expressive and just radiates emotion in a way few others singers can. When he makes his voice crack, you can feel the angst or sorrow; when he’s joyful, his voice practically radiates sunshine. Okay, I’m being hyperbolic, but go slip on “Moondance,” “Domino,” or “Brown Eyed Girl” and tell me you don’t crack into a big grin.
Okay, so where to begin with the guy? His back catalogue is huge and imposing. On the one hand, records like Moondance or His Band and Street Choir have become familiar almost to the point of nauseum. On the other, rock writers love to wax poetic about Astral Weeks. And others point to Saint Dominic’s Preview or Wavelength as high water marks. And that’s not even getting into him in the 80s and beyond. Let’s get into the mystic, as it were.
Earlier this year, Legacy released a two-CD set simply titled The Essential Van Morrison. It’s a fitting title if you consider essential and essence synonyms; two CDs is enough space to get a taste of the man’s music and whet your appetite, but for the converted, it’s probably not going to satisfy that itch. And for everyone else, it may not explain the appeal.
Basically, the set is split into two sections: his early years with Them through 1978’s Wavelength, then from 1979’s Into the Music through 2006’s Pay the Devil. It collects nearly all the big singles, some great album cuts and there are some live tracks scattered here and there.
Obviously, the most popular Van numbers are all on disc one: “Brown Eyed Girl,” “Moondance,” “Domino.” There are the prerequisite tracks from Astral Weeks. And there are great album cuts which rank among his best: “And It Stoned Me” and “Fair Play.” As you go deeper into the first disc, the music matures into his familiar, Irish soul stew: “Tupelo Honey,” “Jackie Wilson Said (I’m In Heaven When You Smile).” The two live cuts are nice, if not essential.
The second disc is where the more interesting, less commercial stuff resides. In the 80s, Van Morrison’s music became increasingly spiritual (“Wherever God Shines His Light”) and introspective (“Tore Down A La Rimbaud”). And while only hardcore fans have likely dived into his 80s and 90s records like Inarticulate Speech of the Heart, A Sense of Wonder or The Healing Game, the disc presents a nice snapshot of how Van’s singing and songwriting have matured over the years.
There are plenty of omissions, as to be expected from any set like this and every Van Morrison fan likely has their own gripes (I saw one dude online complain it didn’t include the entire St. Dominic’s Preview record!) and my personal picks come with the live material, which skips essential documents like It’s Too Late to Stop Now or the aforementioned 1971 KSAN show in favor of The Last Waltz, a bloated, self-congratulatory concert movie for another act. (Now that Legacy has his back catalogue, how about starting a Bob Dylan-like Bootleg Series for Van?)
Still, the biggest gap here is of early Van Morrison. Fortunately, it’s easily remedied with the 1973 compilation TB Sheets. This record was unauthorized back in the day; Van didn’t control the rights to this material. But it’s a great snapshot of him at an early peak, raw and bluesy in a way his music wasn’t really ever again.
It opens with “He Ain’t Give You None,” where Van’s voice rolls and emotes all over the place as an organ squeals in the background and a simple drum/guitar section push the music forward. The early version of “Madame George” is way more upbeat compared to the Astral Weeks take, but has a confident swagger of it’s own. And the title track!
Here’s one of the great pleasures of the man’s music, a song that drips emotion and drags both tension and drama out of Van’s voice. Over a simple blues backing, Van sings of watching his girlfriend slowly die of tuberculosis. He sings of the mundane moments: she pleads with him not to go and he explains he only left to get a glass of water. And as he sings about watching a crack of sunlight, his voice quivers like he’s about to break down.
According to legend, Van Morrison broke down after the second take of this song and the session ended; in an essay included in her 2015 book, music critic Jessica Hopper described this performance giving her similar, powerful emotions. Take a listen and you’ll see what she meant; I certainly do.
Ratings:
The Essential Van Morrison: 4/5
TB Sheets: 3.5/5