Los Angeles Concert Review

Van Morrison transcends pop music's usual confines
LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - While record companies shuddered at the development, the advent of the CD jukebox and the iPod allowed music fans to build something nearly impossible to find on the radio: a truly eclectic mix of material.

Of course, there's a lot of work involved in burning music to a new format. One can get the same genre-busting effect from simply attending a Van Morrison concert.

Over the course of an hour and 40 minutes, Morrison -- beginning a two-night stand Saturday at the Wiltern -- delivered a show that mimicked an iPod on random play, blending traditional pop, blues, jazz, R&B, country and a hint of rock with arrangements that folded in such idiomatically diverse instruments as steel guitar, flugelhorn, tin whistle and clarinet. The decidedly adult crowd was more than willing to follow that journey across musical borders, in part because Morrison's flexibility as a vocalist and the subtle teamwork of his band gave it all a remarkable cohesiveness.
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Touring behind a new country-tinged album, "Pay the Devil," which hits stores Tuesday, Morrison apparently used an off-the-cuff approach to the set list: Guitarist Cindy Cashdollar dashed to her post to quickly strap on a Dobro after Morrison called out "Playhouse." The singer continually added new textures to his material, pushing and pulling phrases, altering melodies and sometimes grafting ethereal bits from other songs, as he did in finishing "Sometimes We Cry" with a line from Johnnie Ray's "Cry."

Morrison's elasticity became particularly pronounced in his cover of George Jones' "Things Have Gone to Pieces," as he expressed one line conversationally, belted another passionately and unleashed a repetitive jazz lick that provided an inspired new shade to an otherwise stone-country classic.

In his most clever rendition of the evening, Morrison mirrored the spirit of Sam Cooke with an emotional version of "Real Real Gone." The lyrics name-check the late soul and gospel singer, and as the piece unfolded, Morrison shifted easily into a truncated version of Cooke's landmark "You Send Me."

Morrison was practically dressed for the office, sporting a dark suit, wide-brimmed hat and large glasses that reflected light back at the audience from certain angles. He was mostly expressionless, standing almost stationary during the many solos he gave his band.

But Morrison certainly was involved. With his trademark slurred phrasing drawing the listener in closer to his efforts, the inspiration was evident in the smaller details -- an emphatic shout in the middle of a spacious, understated piano run; the way he tapped his fingers in rhythm against the palm of his hand -- and one not-so-subtle slam of the mike stand into the floor.

Morrison and each of the 14 musicians who shuffled through the lineup approached their mission with an impressive unity. Technique was flashed only judiciously as the ensemble held its ego in check, placing the focus on the inherent emotions in material that stretched comfortably from Webb Pierce to Frank Sinatra. Morrison's eclectic representation of popular music's breadth was nothing short of brilliant.

Reuters/Hollywood Reporter