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19/03/2004 Van Morrison: music for grown-ups?
A rare sighting of a Van Morrison video on broadcast TV - it had to be St Patrick's Day - served as a reminder of the Man's status as a musician for grown-ups. While the cheesy clip, with the singer on a windy shore pretending to sing Have I Told You Lately, intercut with silly people doing the silly things they tend to do in pop videos, demonstrated just why Morrison is wise not to have wasted much effort on this particular art form, it also confirmed just why he's such an important musician. The voice - a dark tenor, richly endowed with both soul and swing, strong yet vulnerable, assertive but yearning - is probably the finest in all of poprock. It's helped by enviable technique - exquisite phrasing, delicate diction, and a subtle use of dynamics. Like all great voices, Morrison's is instantly recognisable. And impossible to replicate. When he slips into character to tell you a story, you implicitly believe that the singer is talking about himself. Directly to you. You automatically believe what he's telling you - one of the marks of greatness in a singer. And the voice suits so many different musical styles: like all great singers, Van the Man transcends genre. My pop video also bore witness to the artist's stature as one of the leading writers of the singer-songwriter generation. The very first time you heard the HITYL single, used to promote the shimmering triumph that is Avalon Sunset, it sounded as old as the hills: almost miraculously, it tapped straight into your folk memory. And its lyrics are so well crafted: hardly a word is wasted. Is he singing about a woman? Or his God? Lucky the woman (or God) who has such a devoted disciple. Of the writers of his generation, only Dylan's surpasses Morrison's prolific songbook. Only Neil Young and Leonard Cohen come near to equalling it. A vast army of poprock writers trails in their wake - shabby purveyors of sub-standard, tawdry trash. The Beatles and Dylan, encouraging an army of no-talents to believe they could write, have so much to answer for - since the 1960s, the art of songwriting has died an ugly, lingering death. Add to Morrison's musical talents and his compositional gift his legendary live performances - richly varied, superbly paced and often inspired - and you have one of the great contemporary musicians. For most of the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s, Morrison alternated with giants like Dylan, Sinatra, Ella, Bach and Mozart on my hi fi. Quintessential music for grown-ups, then? Well, almost. But not quite. If you'd posed the question three or four years ago, the answer would have been a resounding yes. Now? The water has become muddied. A dip in the writing, which has produced no album to match the first 30 years' worth (though, admittedly, even the weakest release, Back On Top, contains at least one masterpiece). Live shows based on the weaker material, performed by a musician who hasn't, in recent shows I've seen, reached those parts that few can emulate, backed by a troupe of musicians who fall below the standards of most Morrison bands. And the obtrusive giant digital clock, visible from near the stage, running down relentlessly from the allotted gig time, doesn't seem conducive to the free-flowing, spontaneous, improvised shows which Morrison had made into a trademark. Van Morrison's career achievements are monumental. Nothing, neither weak writing nor live performance less convincing than hitherto, can diminish the artist's stature - it was earned years ago. But he's no longer creating new music for grown-ups. Pastiche pop for easily satisfied middle aged conformistas and their tedious offspring just ain't the same. Performing on the burgeoning snob circuit - pointedly posh garden parties in stately homes, peopled by Hooray Henrys/Henriettas gorging on their picnic baskets, sponsorship by Waitrose (sic) - doesn't help, either. That stuff's for bland popsters - Dido, Jamie Cullum; nostalgia pop acts - Rod Stewart, Paul Simon; and safe, soothing crossover - Bocelli, Lesley Garrett. It certainly isn't the place for vital creative artists at the cutting edge. And it certainly ain't rock n roll. My own declining interest in Morrison as a musical life force is tracked by my changing attendance at gigs. I've seen about 70 Morrison shows since the first, Hammersmith Odeon in the mid-'70s. In the late '90s, I relocated and Morrison shows suddenly became much more accessible, so I started going regularly. The shows were great performance art. They ranged from the merely outstanding to the simply celestial. But, since the Man's hook-up with a rockabilly show band from South Wales, my attendance has plummeted. The stats of gigs attended per year tell their own story: 1997: 4 Has the declining attendance left a gap? Hardly. I still get to a couple of music events every month - jazz (McCoy Tyner, Cassandra Wilson); opera (Samson and Dalila last week); vocal (Renee Fleming, Cecilia Bartoli); top quality rock (notably Dylan, but also Neil Young); even roots (Gillian Welch). I've enjoyed virtually every gig I've attended more than the token Morrison shows in recent years: absolutely unthinkable only five years ago. The only aspect of Vangigging I miss is the company of fellow nuts, but most of those I used to meet regularly have kicked the habit, too. So, back to the main point. Is Van Morrison's music for grown-ups? The CDs to the mid-'90s are. Absolutely. But the recent stuff just ain't. The shows? Not those I've seen recently. Maybe this is all too harsh: Morrison's music has enriched my life. And will continue to do so. His legacy is massive. But for vital contemporary music, I now look elsewhere. The choice is almost endless: real music for grown-ups is omnipresent. Gerry Smith
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