Boston Herald March 8, 2006

Morrison ballads ‘Pay’ off for crowd
There was nostalgia in the air but none in the set list at the Opera House on Wednesday night.
Legendary Irish singer Van Morrison sang often of memory, regret and times gone by in a tight, encore-free, hour-and-40-minute set, but only three of the 19 tunes were from his pre-1999 repertoire.
The lack of well-known material didn’t dampen the spirits of the capacity crowd, which cheered loudly and often for the dapperly dressed Morrison and his taut backing band.
The 60-year-old vocalist focused intently on his recent all-country release, ‘‘Pay the Devil.” But regardless of label, he and his big band - expanding and contracting depending on the song and numbering up to 14 throughout the night - deftly worked the crossroads of country, blues, jazz and r & b in a show that erred on the mild side but never failed to entertain.
Notorious for his mercurial stage temperament, Morrison was in good spirits and even better voice.
Playing the role of pitiful romantic loser, he lent a surprising whimsy to ‘‘Things Have Gone to Pieces,” the archetypal country tale of woe. He got saucy on the loose ‘‘Don’t You Make Me High” and performed Hank Williams-associated classic ‘‘My Bucket’s Got a Hole in It” with an ease that made it his own.
On those and others, Cindy Cashdollar added standout dobro and steel-guitar flourishes, and a trio of backing vocalists provided crisp harmonies.
The bluesy ‘‘Talk is Cheap” had both vocal and lyrical bite as Morrison decried tabloid culture, and ‘‘Celtic New Year” nodded to his heritage with a wistful tin whistle.
Elsewhere, Morrison’s elegant, jazzy phrasing, though mumbly in places, seemed effortless. Especially good was the after-hours sepia tone of ‘‘Magic Time,” which featured exceedingly gentle muted trumpet and sax solos, evoking an image of bittersweet memory pulling at the edges of the brain.
Morrison also showed off his harmonica and saxophone chops, weaving in and out of his bright three-piece horn section and soloing on a laid-back version of ‘‘Moondance,” complete with breezy flute filigrees and a starry backdrop that made the theater feel like a cozy nightclub.

Setlist:
Did Ye Get Healed > Yeh Yeh [instr.]
Stranded > Don't Look Back
My Bucket's Got A Hole In It
There Stands The Glass
Big Blue Diamonds
Real Real Gone > You Send Me
Magic Time
Talk Is Cheap
In The Midnight
Stop Drinking
Don't You Make Me High
Things Have Gone To Pieces
Moondance
It's All In The Game > You Know What They're Writing About >Make It Real One More Time
Precious Time
This Has Got To Stop
Till I Gain Control Again
Playhouse
Celtic New Year > I Go Crazy > The Healing Game

Review of Texas Show

Van is brief but brilliant
Morrison returns to N. Texas for first time in 2 decades
By ROBERT PHILPOT
STAR-TELEGRAM STAFF WRITER

GRAND PRAIRIE -- Sometime around 1978, after the release of Wavelength, Van Morrison left radio behind. Or, rather, radio stopped having the energy and imagination for someone like Morrison, who just couldn't be nailed to one format.

Morrison went off into the mystic, releasing a series of recordings that were by turns earthy and ethereal, a curious, restless artist putting his stamp on pop, rock, soul, blues, jazz and, with today's release of Pay the Devil, classic country songs.

So here Morrison was, that familiar, unique and ageless bellow still booming more than 40 years after Morrison started singing. Here he was at Nokia Theatre, fronting a band that had a core of nine members and sometimes swelled to 14, traveling across genres yet remaining impossible to classify.

Here he was, in North Texas for the first time in two decades, in a concert that was just over an hour and a half. During those 90-plus minutes, Morrison took Moondance to new limits, allowing for a solo by each member of a group that reminded you what the word swing means. He pushed the Tommy Edwards chestnut It's All in the Game as far he could, stretching syllables till they almost snapped, repeating words in a soulful stutter so that lines came out something like "and he'll ... caresscaresscaress your waiting fingertips." He ripped out cuts from the new album, adding that Caledonia soul to covers of country songs such as There Stands the Glass and My Bucket's Got a Hole In It.

It was roots music that moved forward while looking back, exploring the possibilities in a word, a steel-guitar solo or a burbling Hammond organ, and if you were there for the radio-friendly stuff, well, he did Brown-Eyed Girl toward the end.

The thing is, it should all be radio-friendly stuff. This was musicianship that was both tight and broad, challenging and yet accessible.

If the concert had a flaw, it was that it was too short -- with the show's 7:30 p.m. start and the sometimes nasty traffic getting into Nokia, many in the crowd arrived after the halfway point, missing a lot of early highlights. It's not often that you can fault a show for its brevity, but quality over quantity may be just what Morrison had in mind.

GRADE: A-

Review of March 3rd San Fran Show

Van's 'the Man' during sold-out show
By Jim Harrington, STAFF WRITER
IT WAS ONE of those magical nights were nearly everything a legendary musician does seems perfect.
That doesn't happen often, especially when the legendary performer happens to be the famously cantankerous Van Morrison. Van the Man is certainly capable of turning in a ho-hum performance. In fact, I've seen Morrison be as mediocre as a reality TV show on Fox.
But I've also seen him be great. And that's exactly what the Irish vocalist was on Friday night at the Masonic Auditorium in San Francisco.
He was so good that he almost made people forget about the show's incredibly unusual start time. But I'm here to remind us all, in hopes that it doesn't happen again. The show began promptly — and I mean promptly — at 6:45 p.m. That's basically unheard of — especially for a Friday night when the work commute is still going strong. Trying to get into San Francisco and finding a parking place anywhere near this venue atop Nob Hill during that time are Herculean tasks.
In my book, what that start time translates to is this: "Nuts to all the fans who don't live in San Francisco." I'm sure that there is a more consumer-friendly translation — but I couldn't find anyone who could provide me with one. Most fans assumed it was just Van being Van, which is probably a safe assumption.
Still, the house was packed to capacity when Morrison took the stage at, by my watch, 6:43 p.m. and delivered a thoroughly enjoyable 95-minute set.
Backed by a big band, complete with a three-piece horn section and two backing
Vocalists, the 60-year-old rock icon was in fine voice as he crooned warmly through the old-school R&B-tinged title track to 2005's "Magic Time." He then strapped on the guitar and clearly enjoyed taking a few potshots at celebrity culture in "Fame," which is one of the better tracks from 2003's jazz-centric "What's Wrong With This Picture?" CD.
He traded in his guitar for an alto sax on the traditional "Saint James Infirmary," which is another number from the "What's Wrong With This Picture?" album. It was one of the most impressive moments of the night as Morrison started out simply humming the lyric, moved to singing it and then exploded into a scat, where the syllables dropped from his mouth like a box of ping-pong balls spilled from the top of the stairs. The horn work, which possessed a certain after-hours Bourbon Street vibe, further sold the song.
It was then time for Morrison to peddle the new album, "Pay the Devil." The folks were definitely buying as Van and his band, which at this point included a steel guitarist and a fiddler, played outstanding renditions of songs from this country-themed album. (The album hits stores today.
The so-called Belfast Cowboy first stuck his spurs into a revved-up version of "My Bucket's Got a Hole in It," a tune best known by jazz-great Louis Armstrong, and then eased up on the reins for a forlorn take on the old Webb Pierce-favorite "There Stands the Glass." Then, impressively, he followed with a killer version of the title track, a Morrison country original that sounded just as good as those other two classic cuts.
Steel-guitarist Cindy Cashdollar — yup, that's her real name — played a big part in making these songs work. But it also had a lot to do with the fact that Morrison was obviously enjoying himself, to the point where he playfully stuttered the last line of "There Stands the Glass" to make it sound like he'd had a couple of belts.
As odd as it may sound, especially to those who only know Morrison for such rock hits as "Gloria" and "Domino," the country songs were the strongest offerings of the night. It got to the point where one hoped he wouldn't play his hits — especially if he was going to toss them out as casually as he did the immortal "Moondance," which was by far the most mediocre song of the night.
Van, however, mostly stuck to the songs that obviously interest him in 2006. It's fortunate that those tunes also were of interest to the crowd. Those two things don't always go hand-in-hand with this performer and his crowds.
But they certainly did on this night as he continued to move through devilishly good songs from "Pay the Devil." He dabbled in doo-wop for the sweet "Big Blue Diamonds," which was a hit for Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs, and then poured his all into the hard-luck tale "Things Have Gone to Pieces," which was originally made famous by the great George Jones. He hammed it up on the flirty Big Joe Turner-favorite "Don't You Make Me High" and nearly brought the house down with the original "This Has Got to Stop."
Unfortunately, this — as in Morrison's concert — did have to stop. The whole thing wrapped up at about 8:20 p.m., which left plenty of time for patrons to go grab a bite or catch a flick.
How thoughtful. That Van, always thinking about his fans first.
Write music critic Jim Harrington at

Rolling Stone Review of Pay The Devil

Van Morrison Pay the Devil (Lost Highway)
How polished is Van Morrison's brand of musical mysticism? On last year's Magic Time, he sang a list of smutty British films and made it sound like cosmic wisdom. After forty years of astral moods, Morrison seems to have realized that his talent for elevating the everyday into the profound would serve him well in country music. So when he sings "My Bucket's Got a Hole in It," he finds the same fertile territory that Hank Williams Sr. did, balancing between a quotidian complaint and Sisyphean dread. Pay the Devil, Morrison's squintillionth album, contains twelve covers of classic country songs, from "Things Have Gone to Pieces" to "Your Cheatin' Heart," and three new compositions that work well right beside them. The album is pleasant but uninspiring, perhaps because Morrison's whiskey voice matches up so easily with these bourbon-soaked songs. While Morrison does nothing discreditable with this material, he also finds nothing new in it. (GAVIN EDWARDS)

Don't Miss Van In This Month's MOJO

Mojo
VAN MORRISON Belfast's soul brother busts myths, battles mediocrity and damns instant celebrity. "Suddenly everyone's a big shot," he tells Peter Doggett.

Variety's Los Angeles Concert Review

Wiltern Theater
Band: Van Morrison, Robin Aspland, Haji Akbar, David Hayes, Matt Holland, Martin Winning, John Allair, Bobby Trehern, Cynthia Ann Cashdollar, Teena Lyle, Jason Roberts, Crawford Bell, Triona Ruddy-Moore, Kathleen McCrum.
By PHIL GALLO
Classic country tunes fill the bulk of Van Morrison's latest album, his 36th overall and his strongest in years; disc beats the pants off his recent forays into a jazz-jump blues hybrid. He sings with a drinkin' 'n' cryin' conviction on "Pay the Devil" (Lost Highway), and that emotional milieu carried through much of his 100-minute perfperf at a sold-out Wiltern. But just as Morrison has never let the blues get him down, the Belfast Cowboy turned in a spirited and raucous performance, delivered clean and meticulously. It topped anything he's done locally in the last 15 years.
Morrison's approach to country -- we're talking Hank Williams and Webb Pierce hits like "There Stands the Glass" and "My Bucket's Got a Hole in It" plus his own variation on a George Jones theme, "Playhouse" -- is summoned from the mid-1950s, when Nashville was looking to ramp up its level of sophistication in arrangements and melodies. Much as Morrison likes a lyric he can sink his teeth into, he also prefers the setting of a large band cushioning his mumbles and shouts with pedal steel, a choir-like trio of femme singers, fiddle, dobro and organ.
Eight songs from "Pay the Devil" turned up in the 22-song set Saturday as Morrison bounced between the crisp, horn-driven band he has been using the past several years and his new twangsters. What Morrison doesn't do is follow the path of his idols Ray Charles and Mose Allison and assimilate the blues with the jazz and the country. If Morrison goes into a country song, by god, it will sound straight from Nashville. And if it's a seven-minute, solo-filled swing version of "Moondance," then it has the polish of a Memphis soul revue from the '60s.
Morrison's voice -- in key and forceful all night -- and John Allair's organ supplied the glue between the two worlds preventing a stylistic schizophrenia. Yet when the twain met on "In the Midnight," a ballad from 1999's blues-oriented "Back on Top," Morrison used his army of instrumentalists to create a masterpiece layered in do-wop vocals, a wash of organ and scat-singing, accented with mournful sax and guitar solos. Like so much of the night, it proved that when Morrison's impeccable instincts are matched in the execution by his band and his voice, there are few who can top him in the world of pop music.
Having already played San Francisco, Morrison is taking the show to Dallas, Nashville and Boston before heading to the U.K. and Europe.

Van Name Checked At Oscars

The Oscars: odd moments, few surprises

"I'd like to thank Bennett Miller, and Danny Futterman, who I love, I love, I love, I love. You know, the Van Morrison song, I love, I love, I love, and he keeps repeating it like that."

What Van Morrison song was best actor winner Philip Seymour Hoffman referring to during his sort of strange, curiously rambling acceptance speech? "Madame George" from "Astral Weeks."

March 3rd San Fran Gig Review

Even in a detour to classic country music, a sharper Van Morrison is still the Man
Joel Selvin, Chronicle Senior Pop Music Critic

Monday, March 6, 2006

When Van Morrison goes country and western, he doesn't go far.
With a new album of classic country songs about to be released, Morrison made his annual swing through the States, a six-night, cross-country whirlwind that includes a stop Tuesday at Nashville's Ryman Auditorium, original home of the Grand Ole Opry, and started Friday at the inevitable Masonic Auditorium, where Morrison has made it his practice to appear on virtually every visit to this country for the past 20 years.
Looking slimmer, sounding sharper and singing with more focus and purpose than he has in years, Morrison massed a huge 14-piece accompaniment around him; sang more than half the songs from the new album; dabbled in everything from hard-bopping jazz to dark, steely blues, strains of Celtic folk and thumping rhythm and blues; and sent everybody home before most shows even get started.
Underneath a broad-brimmed fedora and wraparound designer eyewear, Morrison strode onstage at exactly 6:45 p.m. show time and blew some tenor to get "Did Ye Get Healed" cooking. Fielding a slightly larger core band than usual, he tossed off a few numbers in his conventional R&B mode -- including a positively fire-breathing "St. James Infirmary" -- before bringing out the Nashville squadron of fiddle, steel guitar and a square background vocal trio.
Morrison kept lyric sheets on a nearby music stand, but he sang the old-fashioned country songs from his forthcoming album, "Pay the Devil," which hits stores Tuesday, with the kind of snarl and bite that has always been his specialty. He pounded the final chorus of Webb Pierce's "There Stands the Glass" with a gospel fervor he learned from Solomon Burke. He trained his trademark Celtic soul on the blue-collar morality play "Big Blue Diamonds." It may be country music, but it sounded a lot like Van Morrison.
While Morrison in his life has made soulful records that compare him favorably with as unique and deep a talent as Ray Charles, his country experiment is no "Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music." Ray Charles used country songs to make his music; "Ray Charles" remained the idiom. Van Morrison made a genre piece -- conventional, almost assembly-line country featuring well-known professional sidemen like dobro player Cindy Cashdollar -- and grafted his incorruptible musical character on top. The results do not always produce a rewarding blend, although Morrison is clearly a keen student of the country idiom and sang the hell out of some of the pieces.
As if this C&W wrinkle has reinvigorated his entire performance, he went straight out of the first country songs segment into a deft and daring high-wire scat act on "It's All in the Game" and gave his classic "Moondance" a spanking Horace Silver makeover, adding the fourth horn to the section work.
Morrison, now of the British Isles, was backed by flawless accompaniment from a band of long-standing musical associates, at least two of which -- organist John Allair and bassist David Hayes -- go back almost 30 years to when Morrison lived in Marin County.
At the Masonic, whatever he did -- country, jazz, R&B -- he glowed with confidence and a clear-eyed presence that has been missing from his performances for ages, at least since his 1992 Christmas shows at the Masonic, three-hour marathons that could have been some of the finest of his career.
If he was still shy of that kind of stratospheric height, Morrison remains someone who can flex more soul in a wordless shout than most singers can in an entire performance. He brought "Precious Time" to a close just mumbling along where the final choruses might have gone, punctuating the lines with little horn blasts from back in his throat.
He brought out his daughter Shana Morrison, who still lives in Marin where she grew up, to sing a duet, "Sometimes We Cry," and gave her a jolly, uncharacteristic hug at the conclusion. In the past he has been among the most erratic of performers, but at the Masonic on Friday he was, by comparison, warm, open and semi-informal. The country music was a musical diversion, a labor of love for Morrison that may have reawakened some of his instincts.
But even if he sang Mexican polka music or Hawaiian wedding songs, he would probably still sound like Van Morrison.
Email Joel Selvin at jselvin@sfchronicle.com.

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

OMH Reviews Pay The Devil

Van Morrison - Pay The Devil (Polydor)

After a career spanning over 40 years and over 30 albums, Van Morrison has earned the soubriquet of 'legend'. From his work with Them to the awe-inspiring run of solo albums in the 1980s, he's been responsible for some of the most magical, inspiring music ever created. Why, he even managed to record a duet with Cliff Richard and still remain immeasurably cool.
Over the last few years though, Morrison seems to have lost his sparkle. There's been the odd inspired moment, but in truth, his last truly great album was 1991's Hymns To The Silence - and even that was overlong. Pay The Devil is a collection of mainly covers of country music standards beloved by Morrison, and is the sad sound of a man on auto-pilot.
This may well have been a labour of love for Morrison, but it hardly shines through in the record. It's certainly authentically produced, sounding for all the world like it was recorded in Nashville (it was actually recorded in Ireland with his usual band), but unlike that other Morrison album of cover versions, the Chieftains' collaboration Irish Heartbeat, there's no joy or passion in any of the songs.
There are twelve cover versions here, ranging from tracks that even the most casual of country music fan will recognise - Your Cheatin' Heart, Half As Much - to lesser known songs such as Rodney Cresswell's Till I Gain Control Again. There are also three Morrison originals thrown in, although it's fair to say that none of these really stand up with any of his previous classics.
There Stands The Glass is a good opener however, with Morrison on fine vocal form, barking out the typically downbeat country lyrics like a man who's really lived the words of the song. If Morrison had stuck to this gritty approach, then Pay The Devil may have been more of a success. Yet the second track, Half As Much, sets a twee precedent for the rest of the album, being a bland, almost jaunty, number with Morrison sounding almost as bored as the listener will be.
Your Cheatin' Heart suffers from over familiarity, and Back Street Affair is ploddingly pedestrian, while Don't You Make Me High is quite frankly just a bit wrong - the sound of Morrison singing "if you feel my thigh, you'll want to move up high, you're gonna get a surprise" proves rather toe-curling.
Morrison's vocals too leave a lot to be desired. On some songs, such as the self-penned title track, it's almost painful to hear him straining to reach for the notes, and on the aptly titled This Has Got To Stop, he almost sounds like a parody of himself. He's not helped by the arrangements though - given that so many of these songs deal in misery and heartbreak, the carefree, upbeat instrumentation sounds rather odd. Indeed, the sugary backing vocals on Once A Day almost render the track unlistenable.
There is one track that saves Pay The Devil from being a complete disaster though. What Am I Living For is magnificently broody and reminiscent of the man at his peak from the late 80s. The country stylings are toned down for once, and there's real passion in Morrison's voice. It's a sound that's sadly rare to be found throughout the rest of the album, apart from the mournful closer of Till I Gain Control Again.
The onset of age obviously doesn't mean talent fades - look at the quality of Johnny Cash's final recordings for example, or Loretta Lynn's recent excursion with Jack White. Yet Pay The Devil is for Van Morrison completists only - if you're a stranger to the man's superlative back catalogue then there are a lot better places to start than here.
- John Murphy

American Prospect Review of Pay The Devil

Facing the Country Music

If Van Morrison and Neil Young share anything, it’s nothing much deeper than time, talent, and peculiarity. They’ve been around for the same stretch of years. Both began in other people’s bands, and had their first hits in the same era. Both went solo early, while maintaining long-term affiliations with other artists. Both stood out at The Band’s Last Waltz concert. Both have traveled the genre map, ranging widely and sometimes alarmingly over styles. Both are older now, and seldom perform hatless. Both remain creative and interesting to watch. Aside from all that, their fortunes are their own.

With his new album, Pay the Devil -- a collection of country and honky-tonk ballads, some classic, some obscure -- Morrison may be attempting the sort of transformation other pop and R&B performers have achieved by going country. Or he may just enjoy singing the songs of Hank Williams, George Jones, and Webb Pierce. He certainly hasn’t gone native or anything: Despite its steel-guitar keenings and upper-octave piano tinklings straight out of Nashville, Pay the Devil was recorded in Ireland with Irish musicians. In fact, publicity tells us that Morrison has never been to the capital of country music -- though he will be playing his first Nashville concerts in early March.

You might expect, given this, a more intriguing relationship between performer and material -- the kind of weirdness that can result when indigenous music is interpreted by an artist-fan without direct experience of the atmosphere that breeds it. (Like, say, Japanese surf music or Irish soul.) Instead the distance just sits there, gaping and inert, and Morrison does nothing to leap it.

He’s comfortable with these songs, but comfort doesn’t suit him: It can’t free him to do what he does best, which is to swing on an improvised vocal like Tarzan on the vine. What frees Morrison is a sense of questing, with eyes shut, toward some consummation of feeling, some raw mysticism embodied in an inner or outer landscape only he is seeing. Lacking that fixation -- who can say what its object is? Who needs to? -- Pay the Devil is not an enraptured search or even a jaunty excursion, but a vague stroll through an undefined elsewhere.

The album’s best track is a version of the 1958 Chuck Willis hit “What Am I Living For” in which ease approximates grace. Its best moment altogether is Morrison’s commentary as the song’s last chord fades: “That was worth it. That was worth it.” Just there, yes it was. But with only a couple of other exceptions (“There Stands the Glass,” “Till I Gain Control Again”), the worth of the album as a whole must rest in Morrison’s private satisfaction. If “worth it” has anything to do with “memorable,” Pay the Devil needn’t have been made.

Which is something you’d never say about other country crossover moves. On Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music (1962), Ray Charles contrasted his harsh voice with the smoothest of Hollywood backings for a sensually eerie, sandpaper-on-velvet effect. On The Blue Ridge Rangers (1973), John Fogerty sang naively, with romantic aspiration and without irony, as if the sentiments in his chosen country standards had never been expressed before. On Almost Blue (1981), Elvis Costello brought a vocal thickness and menace common in punk but largely alien to country -- slugged, suspicious, on the verge of either tears or obscenities. Each of these experiments clarified and emboldened something in the performer, some essence only implicit before.

Morrison, though, neither reconceives himself in country terms nor bends the genre to serve him. If country is white soul music, “soul” may be an overabundant commodity to a singer who defines the word by merely expanding his chest and opening his mouth. There is no effort to his soulfulness here -- and “effortless” in this case means not just ease and professionalism: It means lack of effort. It’s not that Morrison doesn’t bring himself to these songs; it’s that these songs bring nothing to Morrison’s self. Both songs and self go out unchanged, and the experience dies before it lives.

Expecting an artist’s every issuance to be a statement of purpose is foolish; wanting it to be a living experience is not. But does an artist always need to be fixated? Can his comfort resonate? Of course -- if his sense of comfort is rich enough to tremble with life, and if there’s fire in his warmth. Neil Young is not more gifted than Van Morrison, nor is he deeper in his visions, but as an artist he is less reducible to a set of consistent strengths. He’s done weighty, exhilarating work in the softest folkie modes, and in the harshest rock styles. Morrison’s mastery has always had a center; Young is indefinable without his extremes.
-Devin McKinney

Dallas Observer On Van's Return

Van Returns To Dallas
Van Morrison has been called many things: mystical poet, New Age guru, reclusive genius. Above all those, he's a guy who doesn't bother with the formalities of promotion or touring, making his March 6 concert at Nokia Theater quite special--it will be his first metroplex stop in more than two decades and one of only six American stops on the entire tour.
"I can't believe he's even playing around here," says 1310 The Ticket's Mike Rhyner, the current Hardline host who followed Morrison's career while working for Dallas' KZEW in the '70s and '80s.
"The last time I can remember him coming to the area is when he played Texas Hall at UTA in 1972," Rhyner adds, speaking of Morrison with the kind of admiration typical of the converted. "The man is so soulful. His music is spacey, ethereal, but underneath it all is a lot of pure soul...Even over all the years, I still feel we've only seen the tip of the iceberg of his talent."
Morrison has characteristically refused all interview requests--his last American interview came in the mid-'80s. As Lost Highway's promotional representative points out, "Not a lot of promotion is necessary with an artist of Morrison's stature." That's obvious--the Nokia show in support of his new country-influenced effort, Pay the Devil, sold out almost as quickly as it went up for sale.
Strangely enough, that label rep asked to remain anonymous, and the hush-hush nature seems fitting for Morrison. Always disdainful of the trappings of popular music, he has avoided the press as rigorously as he shuns accolades. Morrison couldn't give a damn whether anyone liked his music besides himself, even as it has veered with varying results like individualistic Celtic soul and religiously inspired contemporary blues.
Years ago, when the Waterboys did a decent job covering Morrison's "Sweet Thing," his response was terse and indignant: "My version's better." Never giving an inch, Morrison has quietly released as significant a body of work as anyone in rock history, and his best work may well lie in the shadows of his well-known (and much-deserving) classics Astral Weeks, Moondance and Tupelo Honey.
1979's Into the Music marks his transition from Celtic R&B mumbler to religious mystic. Featuring ravers such as "Full Force Gale," it's the lengthy song cycle that concludes the effort where Morrison really transcends all influences. Starting with "Angelou" and finishing with "You Know What They're Writing About," this rare mix of religious and sexual intensity proves that desire can coexist with piety.
Released in 1974 at the end of his most popular period, Veedon Fleece has an irritated stoner buzz about it, as if Morrison was reacting against fame the only way he knew how--challenging conceptions and expectations. Featuring an unfamiliar high register, standouts like "Fairplay" and "Linden Arlen Stole the Highlights" play out like rough-hewed tributes to Ray Charles, an influence he again visits on Pay the Devil. Full of intricate detail and beautiful accompaniment, Fleece is injected with a cynical edge that would rarely present itself in the future.
Morrison's '80s catalog is filled with competent material, but in that era, he became better-known for his hot temper and onstage petulance than for the middling New Age jazz he was releasing. It wasn't until 1987's Poetic Champions Compose that he came to grips with age and inspiration. "I Forgot That Love Existed" and "Did Ye Get Healed?" are easily his best songs in the decade. Instead of the professional curmudgeon persona he had worked so hard to cultivate, Champions revealed a thoughtful elder spokesman, the standard-bearer of intensity, both musical and spiritual.
Now at 60, Morrison confidently turns his attention to country, a genre he has always flirted with but never fully embraced. As usual, Morrison appears both at ease and wary even within the same song. "Things Have Gone to Pieces," a song made famous by George Jones, is a highlight because Morrison forgoes intrusive backing vocals and strings. But for every barebones gem like "There Stands the Glass," Morrison offers odd, country-lite takes on "Your Cheatin' Heart" and "Half as Much."
Morrison's singing is still a wonder, full of blustery nuance and fitfully contained power, but his reverence for the country stylings of Ray Charles (Morrison's obvious model for Pay the Devil is Charles' Modern Sounds of Country and Western) restrains his interpretive gifts. Even the closer, Rodney Crowell's "Till I Gain Control Again," has been done better by Blue Rodeo.
But Van has always followed his own muse while racking up significant sales figures. His career, even in its twilight, serves as a model of integrity. So what if he won't talk and comes around as often as a comet? So what if his new country effort is only partly successful? These are slight details in a career rich in the intangibles that always make the best music matter, make it transcend the seeming necessities of advertising and applause.
-Darryl Smyers

02-Mar-06 Marin Concert Review

Van Morrison wows them any time

VAN MORRISON, once one of Marin's most celebrated rock star residents, returned to his old home turf Thursday, playing an unadvertised concert at Rancho Nicasio, West Marin's storied roadhouse.

"There has been a lot of history at Rancho Nicasio," owner Bob Brown said, "and we just added to it."

The unusually early show began at 4 p.m. on a golden Marin afternoon for an audience of a couple hundred fans lucky enough to score tickets.

It was the 60-year-old Rock and Roll Hall of Famer's first date on a sold-out American tour promoting his new country/western album "Pay the Devil."

The rustic Rancho, with its animal heads on the walls and its Old West ambiance, was the perfect setting for Morrison to introduce songs by the likes of Hank Williams, Conway Twitty and Emmylou Harris from the new CD, set for release on Monday.

Wearing a black cowboy hat, his fireplug body packed into a gray suit, the notoriously prickly Irish superstar was in fine voice and even finer spirits, fronting a 13-piece band, packing a 90-minute set with songs spanning his 40-year career.

After a rollicking rendition of his 1967 classic, "Brown Eyed Girl," he spoke to the audience, a rarity for him, jokingly saying, "Thank you for the 38 years of money that song gave me."

He also brought nostalgic smiles to his appreciative listeners when he launched into a punchy, horn-driven R&B take on 1970's celebratory "Moondance."

That song was a radio staple at about the time that Morrison moved to Marin County. His bucolic lifestyle in Fairfax with his then-wife, Janet Planet, and their young daughter, Shana, inspired the pastoral 1971 LP "Tupelo Honey," considered one of his greatest albums.

Shana Morrison, who grew up to become one of Marin's most popular singers in her own right, joined her dad on stage for a powerful duet on the country rocker "More and More," a song on the new album.

Morrison, who now lives in his native Belfast, has kept close ties to Marin over the years and visits often, maintaining a home and office in Mill Valley.

Rumored for months, the Nicasio show was Marin's worst-kept secret, the hottest ticket in memory. The few tickets

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available for the concert, only one of seven dates in the country, were offered to Rancho regulars via e-mail and by word-of-mouth for $150. Days before the concert, a desperate Van fan bid $1,500 for a pair.

Before Thursday's show, Pat Dugan of Lucas Valley and his teenage son, Connor, stood in front of the Rancho, holding a sign pleading, "Father son/2 tickets."

"I told Connor that Van Morrison is one of the greatest entertainers of all time," Dugan said, joking that he would give his son's college money for a couple of tickets.

Morrison last played Rancho Nicasio in 1979, when his opening act was a little-known band called Huey Lewis and American Express, soon to be renamed Huey Lewis and the News. Their manager was then, and remains, Bob Brown, who ended up buying Rancho Nicasio seven years ago.

"After the show in 1979, Van came back and said, 'Hey, you guys are really good,'" Brown recalled. "Because this was Van Morrison talking, it was the first night we looked at each other and said, 'We may have something going here.'"

A year and a half ago, Morrison just happened to drop by the Rancho during an afternoon barbecue concert by Asleep at the Wheel. He took a liking to the 65-year-old country landmark, and contacted Brown in mid-January, saying he wanted to open his tour there.

"It was entirely his idea," Brown said. "I had nothing to do with it."

He chose the odd 4 p.m. start time so that his band and crew, most of them just arriving from England and Ireland, could better adjust to the time difference and recover from jet lag.

"Before the show, Van asked me if people had any problems with the concert starting at 4 o'clock," Brown said. "I told him, 'Van, these people would have come at four in the morning to see you.'"

They Adore Van In Tupelo

Van Fit Enough For A King

In fact when I was in Elvis Presley's birthplace a couple of years ago my Ulster accent was immediately latched onto by the locals who have been big fans of Mr Morrison since he first sang Tupelo Honey, which is sort of the unofficial anthem of the region out there.
The locals, as kindly a bunch as you could wish to share a Cajun cooked chicken with, appealed to me to pass on an invitation to Van to see if he would perform at the annual Elvis Festival there, something which I was only too glad to do to Van's management when the Belfast Blues King appeared at the outdoor 2002 Earth Festival at Prehen Playing Fields, Waterside.

Pay the Devil Review***

Independent Review of Pay The Devil
In some cases, the delivery doesn't quite fit the material: after the simple yearning of Hank Williams' version, Morrison's attempts to wrest something more overtly soulful out of "Half As Much" simply capsize the song.

Van: My Job Is To Sing

VAN MORRISON is determined to keep singing for as long as he can
Veteran singer/songwriter VAN MORRISON is determined to keep singing for as long as he can, despite regarding the music industry as "bulls**t". The 60-year-old SAINT DOMINIC'S PREVIEW hitmaker insists he was born to sing even though he believes materialism and arrogance now dominate the business. He says, "I'm not sure if there's anything else I could do but sing. It wouldn't be that easy, at my age, to get my teeth into something else. "I think the only thing that might make me want to stop would be the music business, because for any intelligent, thinking person, the music business is bulls**t. "But right now I'm still doing it. My job is to sing, that's what I do."

Van On His Biographers

VAN MORRISON BLASTS BIOGRAPHERS

Irish music legend VAN MORRISON has called the writers of his recent biographies "ignoramuses" and their sources "mentally unstable" in a scathing attack. The BROWN EYED GIRL singer is appalled at the lack of accurate information in several books written about him, and claims the people who claim to know about him only wanted their own names in the limelight. He says, "There are the people who write these so-called biographical books, who haven't done the research, and don't know enough about me in the first place. "I think the guys who wrote the last couple of books were complete ignoramuses, not qualified for the job. "If anybody told them anything, they believed it, they didn't question it. "A lot of the stuff that's been written about me has come from people from 30 or 40 years ago, who didn't really know me then, and have some kind of agenda of their own. "They didn't make it, so now they want to get their name in a book. They'll say anything. "Some of them, their mental state is questionable. I'd go so far as to say that some of the people who talk about me are actually mentally unstable. "But the authors don't mention that in their books."

VAN MORRISON ON 'COMMERCIAL' MUSIC INDUSTRY

VAN MORRISON ON COMMERCIAL MUSIC INDUSTRY

VAN MORRISON has launched a scathing attack on the internet, insisting it is responsible for the dumbing down of society and modern culture.

The GLORIA hitmaker is convinced the worldwide web has caused more problems than it has solved, and insists Earth would be a better place without it.

He says, "Now, because of the internet, everyone's suddenly a big shot. I'm talking about people who think that because they've looked up a website, they know everything.

"You used to have to study things but now you can just find it on the internet, and everybody feels very important because they have access to this stuff.

"It was a different culture when I was young. Quality, respect - they seem to have vanished."

Van Morrison To Be Given "Freedom of Nashville"

Van's the Man of the moment in Nashville

Van Morrison, the Belfast Cowboy, is to be given the freedom of Nashville, Tennessee.
Van the Man will become an honorary citizen of the world centre of country music at a ceremony in the Ryman Auditorium next Tuesday.
The Mayor of Nashville Bill Purcell will interrupt a concert by Van in the auditorium to perform the ceremony which will make the Ulster superstar a freeman of the city.
It will be an emotive occasion in hoe-down town especially as Nashville has been twinned with Belfast for several years.
The honour comes just as Morrison devotes his latest album, Pay the Devil, to a range of his favourite country songs including Your Cheatin' Heart, a hit for Frankie Laine back in the '50s.
It was a tune Van used to sing as a teenager and he will be performing it at the show.
In the audience will be millionaire businessman Dr Ian Brick and his wife Catherine who are from Northern Ireland.
On Pay the Devil, Van pays tribute to songwriters Hank Williams, Rodney Crowell, Webb Pierce and Leon Payne.
He plays tracks such as Half as Much, Big Blue Diamonds and There Stands The Glass, as well as three original songs of his own including the title track.
The album - and especially the Your Cheatin' Heart track - is creating a stir in Nashville, where Morrison is revered.
And by coincidence a novel by Belfast writer Annie McCartney has just arrived on the Nashville bookshelves. Its title? Your Cheatin' Heart.
-Eddie McIlwaine

VAN MORRISON EYES RELAXED TOURING SCHEDULE

VAN MORRISON EYES RELAXED TOURING SCHEDULE

Veteran singer VAN MORRISON has vowed never to embark on a punishing tour schedule ever again after experiencing how much more relaxed he is just playing a couple of nights each week.
The SAINT DOMINIC'S PREVIEW star refuses to tour continuously for months on end, instead preferring to play gigs throughout the year.
He says, "When I started out, I was touring all the time. I was out on the road for years, living out of a suitcase, and when I was off the road, I was living in hotels.
"After a while, when you've had some success and made a bit of money, you don't want to live like that any more.
"Now it might be easier for everyone if I went out on tour for a month, and then took a couple of months off, but the way I do it just happens to suit me. I wouldn't recommend that anyone else does it.
"I've got to the point financially where I don't have to go out for long tours, and that's why I schedule gigs the way I do."