1981 Interview With Van 

by Paul Vincent

From the February 12, 1982 issue of

BAM: The California Music Magazine (issue #123)

Originally Transcribed by David Chance For The van-the-man.info website

Audio available from KMEL archives here.

Van & Paul Vincent November 13, 1981

The following interview took place at KMEL-FM's San Francisco studios in mid-November of last year. Although we don't, as a rule, reprint radio interviews, we were so impressed by the rapport between Van and KMEL jock Paul Vincent that we thought it would be fun to share this rare glimpse of Van Morrison with our readers.

Paul Vincent: How different is it being Van Morrison the artist now as opposed to Van Morrison the artist in the '60s?

Van Morrison: I think now there's a lot less emphasis on art in the music business. It's completely different. When I started there were more people like me. Now there are fewer people doing creative stuff, writing songs or whatever.

PV: Is it difficult separating music from "the business"?

VM: Yeah it is, because the business is like a fixed system now. It's gotten that way because of econimics, I guess.

PV: How do you cope with that?

VM: Well, in some way you've got to compromise. If I really did what I felt I wanted to do, it might be sort of inaccessible because, for instance, when you make an album you end up with three-, four-, maybe five-minute songs, but when I actually just play with other musicians things stretch out much longer than that, so you have to edit it and re-shape it to make it accessible for people to "get it."

PV: "Summertime In England," from Common One, was originally thirteen minutes long, and the record company released an edit of that. Does that distress you when you hear your work edited?

VM: No. That's what I'm saying--you have to do that, 'cause at the pace we live in the world we live in, that's the way it's done.

PV: You play quite a bit in the Bay Area, but you haven't toured in a while. I can understand the negative aspects of touring, but there are also the positive aspects--the reaction you get from people in different cities, and so forth. Do you miss that at all?

VM: You see, for me it was more negative than positive. I take my involvement with music as a whole thing. I was telling somebody yesterday that this album I have coming out has taken me 21 years to make. It's not just an album, something I did months ago. I don't just take it as 1981 or 1982. I've been in it for 21 years, so it's taken me 21 years to get to this point. It's accumulated experience. Getting back to the going on the road thing--I started going on the road when I was 15, so by the time I was 21 I had had enough of touring. Before I even walked in a studio all I knew was touring, one-nighters.

PV: Do you see a time when you might just write and record and not tour at all? Miles Davis, for instance, just came out of a semi-retirement of seven years to do some gigs, and there are other examples of artists who write but don't perform.

VM: It's hard to say, because it depends on a combination of things. If you're happy with the band you've got and it's really happening, you can stand to do more gigs and combat staying in hotels. But also, the economic situation of touring is outrageous at the present time.

PV: You seem to be pretty pleased with the band you have now.

VM: That's why I've been doing some gigs. We just finished the album and it was time to say "goodnight," but I realized I haven't gotten off with a bunch of musicians like this in quite a while, so I wanted to keep it happening.

PV: Many of your songs are rather complex, intricately put together. How do you write? Do you have a musical idea first, or a lyrical idea?

VM: Well, there's "A," "B" and "C." "A" is where I get the whole idea, the lyrics and the melody to the song. That's inspirational writing, which is very rare. "B" is where I get a melody or have a melody I'm working on, and I later work on words to go with the melody and the chords. And "C" is the reverse of that.

PV: Do you write on the guitar or keyboards?

VM: Guitar and piano.

PV: Do you think about your audience at all when you're writing?

VM: Not really, because you can't think about anything when you're writing except that. It's like if you're a carpenter, you can't build a shelf well if you're thinking about who you're going to sell it to. You have to build the shelf first, and then whoever wants to buy it...

PV: Unfortunately, the reverse is usually true these days. Writing--and maybe even carpentry--is done with the audience in mind.

VM: See, I don't think of myself as "a songwriter." I know songwriters and I'm not one. A songwriter's a guy who can come in at 9:30 in the morning and write a song on demand, and I've never been able to do that. I'm an inspirational writer. I write when I'm inspired. If I'm not inspired I *can't* write. It's impossible for me. I'm not like a craftsman, which is what a songwriter is.

PV: There was a period of about three years, between Veedon Fleece ['74] and Period of Transition ['77], when you went back to Ireland for a while. Were you writing during that time? There was no album for about three years.

VM: There was a period there where I didn't write for about two-and-a-half years. I didn't do anything. I didn't play guitar, I didn't listen to music. I had overdosed. I had to stop. I had had enough. I was mentally exhausted, physically exhausted and I just had to get away from music completely. I'd been going at it hard for ten or twelve years.

PV: And then it all came around again and you got psyched up and ready to go back.

VM: I started to like it again. When I was taking the time off I hated it. I had a total aversion to everything about it.

PV: How planned are your live sets? They seem to be kind of structured as they go along.

VM: At this point they're planned, or more planned than they'd be if we just threw something together to play at a club. There are too many people for it not to be planned. There are seven musicians and three singers. The order of the songs isn't planned, though.

PV: Do you still enjoy performing your older music? Do you still enjoy playing "Gloria," or do you do it kind of for the sake of the audience?

VM: If I haven't done a song for a while and it's fresh, I enjoy it. I haven't done "Gloria" in quite a while so it is fresh. I don't take it seriously, though.

PV: You get a kick out of it, though, don't you? It's not drudgery.

VM: No, no, it's good. It's so old it's new, y'know?

PV: A lot of times in live performance you do great songs that weren't written by you: "Stand By Me," "Mona," "Not Fade Away," Sam Cooke's "You Send Me," some Jimmy Reed songs, some Willie Dixon songs, and "Buona Sera," a Louis Prima song which is really a kick. Do you have studio versions of any of these in a vault somewhere?

VM: There's a version of "Buona Sera" somewhere from a KSAN show. I went into the studio a couple of years ago and went through my old tapes. By the time you get through everything you realize it would be better to do it fresh than get hung up on old tapes.

PV: The flipside of "Joyous Sound" from Period of Transition is a song called "Mechanical Bliss" which is weird, kind of strange...

VM: That was a big disappointment for me because I was trying to break into comedy there and that was my only comedy song. I played it for Dudley Moore and he flipped over it; he really loved it. I thought, "This is it. This is my big chance." But Warner Bros. buried it.

PV: It was a flipside and wasn't on any album, but it does show a humorous side of you. A lot of people look at you as being the brooding musician who rarely cracks a smile. Are you aware of people having that image of you as the depressed poet?

VM: Yeah, but I think it's totally wrong. Things have been written and people get hold of certain things and put it in the paper and it gets blown out of proportion. Like the thing that I don't do many interviews. That's wrong. I've done so many interviews you wouldn't believe it. Writers have something about everybody: "Oh he's like that," which usually he isn't.

PV: Do you think, though, that people might get that idea, too, from your live shows? You're very much into your music and the music is the bottom line in your live shows. But do you think people expect you to be more of a--

VM: If I went out there and tried comedy, what would happen? It would be "What?" When I've done that, they don't know what to make of it because the image that's out there is not conducive for me to do comedy. I've been in bands where I've done actual comedy.

PV: At a recent show at the Palace of Fine Arts [in SF] a couple of people yelled out, "Van, talk to us. Say something to us." You hear that when they say it, don't you?

VM: Yeah, but you can't please everybody. When I'm playing I've got to concentrate on the music--the arrangements and the people and getting the moment. If I start developing myself as a personality, that's another form of concentration, so in order to concentrate on that I couldn't do what I do now. I would have to change completely. I have to concentrate to build the energy and I have to put a spell on it, so to speak, to do it. I don't want to talk because it would break the spell. Music is what I'm saying.

PV: Is it frustrating to think that a lot of people don't pick up on that and think that you're just being cold?

VM: Who are "they"? Different people think different things and the audience is made up of individuals. Some people like it and some people don't. I do what I do and if people get it, great. And if they don't get it, they don't have to buy it.

PV: In the past year or so, when you have performed the song "Angeliou", you've expressed some opinions in the break there, little ad libs or whatever. One time I wrote down what you said: "This is the part--this is my message--it only takes a few--everyone will get it sooner or later." What will they get?

VM: The message is not in actual lyrics, because lyrics are different every time. And the message is not really in songs. The message is behind the whole thing, which is getting very, very quiet. And when you get very, very quiet you can actually hear yourself. That's what I was trying to say. I was trying to show the dynamics in the music. There's not enough education about what music is today. Kids aren't taught what it is, and I was trying to do a little teaching about it: these elements are in music because they exist in ourselves and society. Anger is in rock and roll, love is in there. There's a lot of different energy. But if you go out and you don't know what you're doing with it--you're just *blasting* this energy--then it becomes destructive. I was trying to show people, "this is energy and *this* is energy, but ultimately the real energy that we're dealing with is the energy that's inside you that you can only hear when you get quiet. And the whole purpose of that was to make people listen to themselves.

PV: At another point in that break in "Angeliou" you referred to a San Francisco music critic who put your music in with rock and roll and you said, "It's not rock and roll, that's not what it's all about." Is rock and roll a bad image in your mind?

VM: Oh yeah. Once you say "rock and roll" people start to project and relate to you in a certain way. I'm just so far away from that projection and that image. The way I live my life from day to day is so far removed from what people think of when you say "rock and roll." I've got nothing to do with all that rock and roll stuff at all. When I started out, when I was a teenager, rock and roll to me was Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry and people like that. But now, what is rock and roll? Rock and roll is a mind trip. It's not music anymore.

PV: Are you aware of what albums are selling these days; what's at the top of the charts? Do you keep abreast at all of any of that?

VM: I don't really know. Some of the new music is interesting. I definitely believe we need a new music, something new in order to survive. If music is such a big thing in everybody's life--and I think it is--we need something different because the garbage that we keep getting is going to make everybody sick after a while. I think the young kids are crying out--screaming--for something new. That's why you're getting all this really destructive punk music. They're saying, "We can't take it anymore. We'll do anything." I feel like some of it is very adventurous, and I like that about it. But some of it has turned into a very destructive thing.

PV: How far in advance do you work as far as writing goes? Do you have songs that you've written and that you'll get back to or do you try to stay pretty current with what you're doing?

VM: I try to stay current, but like I said before, I'm an inspirational writer so I've always got bits and pieces hanging around. I never really put it together unless I've got a contract. If I didn't have a contract to do an album, I wouldn't do it.

PV: Until the mood hit you.

VM: I'd only do it if I need the money, if I needed to do it for survival purposes. Otherwise I'd never do it. I went through that phase years ago of being successful, and then I went through the phase of being a successful songwriter. I went through those phases and saw what they were. When you see what something is, then you can drop it; if you don't see what it is, then you keep doing it.

PV: Your music is always changing. Are those mainly conscious or unconscious changes?

VM: At this point it's conscious, because I'm actually starting to work on it. It's taken me 20 years to be able to see what it is I'm involved in and what I'm actually doing with it. You find out after a while it's just too limiting to make an album and tour, make another album and tour. It's not very creative. So you start exploring: what does a C chord mean? It could mean a lot of different things; it could be a color. The C chord means a certain thing, the G chord means certain things. What does this song mean? What do these lyrics mean? It took me 20 years to get to this point, where I'm consciously involved with what I'm doing.

Glen Hansard On Meeting Van Morrison

New Poll: What's Your Favorite Van Morrison Album of the 1980s?

Vote in the column on the left

Common One (1980)

Beautiful Vision (1982)

Inarticulate Speech of the Heart (1983)

Live At The Belfast Grand Opera House (1984)

Sense of Wonder (1985)

No Guru, No Method, No Teacher (1986)

Poetic Champions Compose (1987)

Irish Heartbeat (1988)

Avalon Sunset (1989)

Van Photo Of The Day

Van Morrison Boston 1970

Photo by AJ Sullivan

And Your Stairway Reaches Up To The Moon

Guardian  More than any other writer, Van Morrison seems blessed with a transformational power to bring a beautiful vision to even the most humdrum objects and events

In my mind, the Vanlose Stairway of Van Morrison's song was always a majestic affair; not quite the full Scarlett O'Hara, but certainly something with a little grandeur. I'm not sure when I learned that it was, in reality, not much more than a flight of stairs running to the fourth floor of a plain apartment block in Copenhagen, but when I looked up the picture again this week, I was struck by the building's ordinariness: pale brick, small balcony, broad, blank windows.

In the early 1980s, Morrison stayed at an apartment here with a girlfriend named Ulla Munch. She inspired much of the material from his 1982 album Beautiful Vision, including Vanlose Stairway. Morrison referred to this song as "a Twenty Flight Rock" – a nod to Eddie Cochran's fabulously euphemistic 1957 hit about climbing 20 flights to see his "baby", only to find on his arrival that he is too tired to "rock".

Van's stairway song is a little more spiritual – sewn with references to Krishna, the Bhagavad Gita and the Bible. And it's a little more romantic, too: "And your stairway/ Reaches up to the moon," he growls, "And it comes right back/ It comes right back to you." Here, alongside the moonlit wooing and the spirituality, there is even room for a few references to John Lee Hooker's Send Me Your Pillow and Little Richard's Send Me Some Lovin', too.

It is one of my favourite Morrison songs, a perfect ball of love and desire, belief and rock'n'roll, and, perhaps more oddly, one of the most frequently performed songs at his shows. Peter Mills, in Hymns to the Silence, refers to it as "this dark horse of a song" – a way to describe the surprising appeal of a song that was never a hit, but has proved compelling to many.

Beautiful Vision is not one of Morrison's most critically feted albums. In his recent book Listening to Van Morrison, Greil Marcus numbered it among the 15 Van albums he would happily write off, consigning it to "the endless stream of dull and tired albums through the 1980s and 90s, carrying titles like warning labels … a string of records where Morrison seems to attempt to reduce whatever might be elusive, undefinable, and sui generis in his music to parts that can never recombine into a whole."

There are Morrison albums I like better, but Beautiful Vision has never struck me as dull; on the contrary, its particular strangeness has always proved appealing – an exploration of Celtic heritage, distance, reminiscence, spirituality and the writings of Alice Bailey. Its most commercial track is Cleaning Windows, a wistful tale of a stint as a window cleaner, that marries the pleasures of physical work and sensory delights – bakery smells, Paris buns, and smoking Woodbines – to a time of expanding artistic and intellectual vision, of playing sax on the weekend, listening to Jimmie Rodgers on a lunch break, reading Kerouac and Christmas Humphreys, hearing Leadbelly and Blind Lemon on the street.

Cleaning Windows, like the rest of Beautiful Vision, seems to me an attempt to explain how a spiritual, emotional life does not exist in isolation, how the lemonade and Paris buns are as stirring as the Kerouac, and how the memory of both can be tethered to those "wrought iron gate rows". This has always been what I loved about Morrison: more than any other songwriter, he seems blessed with a transformational power, with the ability to bring a beautiful vision to even the most humdrum objects and events – the "clicking, clacking of the high-heeled shoe", the "crack in the windowpane", the "decent sherry" and the "drop of port", and "this letter-box behind this door here …"

And perhaps this spurs Vanlose Stairway, that dark horse of a song, perhaps it is simply the strange and beautiful majesty of finding the Gita, and the Cochran, and the moonlight, in the pale brick, small balcony, and broad, blank windows of an ordinary apartment block in Copenhagen.

-Laura Barton

Here's a Short Video About What Makes Van's Music Special To So Many People

Reader's Questions

I get a good few questions here at the blog. Many are the same questions from many people so I have compiled a list of the most frequent asked questions and I try to answer best as I can. If any readers out there can answer - please use comments section below. Thanks.

-John

Q: Do you know what happened to the rest of the great Van Morrison remaster series?
It seems like the rest of the announced stuff (CDs) will not be released in the near future.
Maybe you know something about it.

Thanks also for your great site & best wishes.

-Frank L. (Germany)

A: It seems when Van left his last record label, the re-issues were discontinued. It doesn't appear that Van is currently with any record label as of today so it may be awhile before we see them.

Q: Do you have contact details for Van's booking agency?

-Peter R. (Durban, South Africa)

A: No - I have no contact with Van's management or booking agency nor do i know how to get in contact with them.

Q: As an avid Van Morrison fan, I was wondering whether there is any new music in the offing currently, whether there is a new Van Morrison CD being made, organized, or even planned.

Wondering if you have any insights?

-Gavin T. (Australia)

A:  I have not heard anything about a new album release from Van. I also do not know if he's recording or not.

Q: Where can I find a list of Van's future concerts? 

-CJ

A: When I hear of concert dates and can confirm them - I post them on this blog as soon as possible. Only other suggestion is to sign up for email alerts from Ticketmaster for Van gigs.

Q: I live in Wellington New Zealand and I’ve been a fan of Van Morrison’s music since the days of “Them”

 

It would be great to know if Van has ever toured in New Zealand?

 

The DVD version of Astral Weeks live has never been available in New Zealand (we’re zoned 4) and I wonder why this DVD has never been released here in New Zealand.

 

What has been available in New Zealand to purchase I have (cd’s, video and vinyl).

Cheers,

-Russell F (Wellington, New Zealand)

A: To the best of my knowledge, I do not think Van has ever toured New Zealand. If any readers know - please comment.

The Astral Weeks Live At The Hollywood Bowl DVD has been discontinued and is not available for sale anymore. I'm not sure what is available in New Zealand in terms of CDs and DVDs. Does any reader from there know?

Q: I am looking for a site or database which would have the setlist for the Feb. 20, 1979 concert in Belfast? 

I've searched and searched with no luck.  Can you offer any help? 

-Stuart S.

A: Try setlist.com

Q: Is there a version of Coney island (live ?) where Van goes straight in to have i told you lately that i love you.

I heard from a friend they played it on an Irish radio station a while back. If so what cd does it come from?

-Derek T. (Ireland) 

A: Never heard of such a recording. I do not think it exists. 

Q: Wonder if you can help me locate a song Van recorded some years back which featured a trombone backing 'chorus'.  I'd be very happy if you could point me to it.

-Malc S.

A: Not sure which song you heard. Does anyone know?

This Blog Started 5 Years Ago Today!

Thanks To All The Followers For Their Great Support!

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Unreleased Van Tracks On Forthcoming Chris Barber 2 CD Set

Update: Chris Barber has a 2 CD compilation coming out in the UK on 5 September, the US and Canada on 8 February and Germany on 6 May 2011. Release dates subject to change..

Memories of My Trip include three tracks that Van recorded with Barber that have never been released before:



Van With The Chris Barber Skiffle Group - How Long Blues

Van With Chris Barber's Jazz Band - Goin' Home

Van With Chris Barber And Dr. John - Didn't He Ramble
 
So far there's no information on when these tracks were recorded. Van has played and toured with Chris Barber many times over the years.

Take Me Back
Bono Interviews Dylan & Van (1984)

From Hot Press:

Conducted at the Slane Castle, Dublin, Ireland prior to Dylan's show (JULY 8, 1984). Both Bono and Van Morrison were later guests at the show, Van Morrison doing his usual It's All Over Now, Baby Blue and Bono joining Dylan on Blowin' In The Wind.

Bono: Van, what do you think of electronic music?

Morrison: I like the music Brian Eno plays.

Bono: He speaks very highly of you. He's producing our record right now.

Morrison: Say hello.

Bono: When you're working with a producer, do you give him the lee-way to challenge you?

Dylan: Yeah, if he feels like it. But usually we just go into the studio and sing a song, and play the music, and have, you know ...

Bono: Have you had somebody in the last five years who said "That's crap, Bob"?

Dylan: Oh, they say that all the time!

Bono: Mark Knopfler, did he say that?

Dylan: I don't know, they spend time getting their various songs right, but with me, I just take a song into the studio and try to rehearse it, and then record it, and then do it. It's a little harder now though to make a good record - even if you've got a good song and a good band. Even if you go in and record it live, it's not gonna sound like it used to sound, because the studios now are so modern, and overly developed, that you can take anything good and you can press it and squeeze it and squash it, and constipate it and suffocate it. You do a great performance in the studio and you listen back to it because the speakers are all so good, but, ah, no!

Bono: All technology does is - you go into a dead room with dead instruments and you use technology to give it life that it doesn't have, and then it comes out of the speakers and you believe it. What I've been trying to do is find a room that has life in itself.

Dylan: Yeah.

Bono: A 'living' room.

Dylan: The machines though, can even take the life out of that room, I've found. You can record in St Peter's Cathedral, you know, and they still make it sound like, eh, ...

Bono: Somebody's backyard.

Dylan: Yeah.

Dylan: That's a good idea. I'd love to record in a cathedral.

Dylan: You know the studios in the old days were all much better, and the equipment so much better, there's no question about it in my mind. You just walked into a studio, they were just big rooms, you just sang, you know, you just made records; and they sounded like the way they sounded there. That stopped happening in the late Sixties, for me anyway. I noticed the big change. You go into a studio now and they got rugs on the floor, settees and pinball machines and videos and sandwiches coming every ten minutes. It's a big expensive party and you're lucky if you come out with anything that sounds decent.

Bono: Yeah, records haven't got better, have they?

Dylan: No, you go in now, you got your producer, you got your engineer, you got your assistant engineer, usually your assistant producer, you got a guy carrying the tapes around. I mean, you know, there's a million people go into recording just an acoustic song on your guitar. The boys turn the machines on and it's a great undertaking.

Bono: There's a system called Effanel which Mick Fleetwood from Fleetwood Mac brought to Africa. It was built for him because he wanted to get some real African drummin', for "Tusk". We've used that system. It comes in a light suitcase, very small, no bullshit studio, and it just arrives, you can literally bring it to your living room.

Morrison: I think all the same they'll go back to 2-track eventually.

Bono: There's a guy called Conny Plank, who lives in Germany. He's a producer I think. He produced Makem and Clancy and some Irish traditional bands, also orchestral and funnily enough a lot of the new electronic groups, DAF, Ultravox, and so on. He used to record orchestras by just finding a position in the room where they were already balanced and he applies this in his thinking, in recording modern music: he finds a place in the room where it's already mixed.

Morrison: I don't know, when I started we didn't think about that! You didn't even think about recording ... (laughs)

Bono: You didn't even think!

Morrison: You didn't even know what was on the cards. One day you were in the room, they turned the tape on. After about eight hours or so, they'd say, 'OK, tea break, it's over'.

Dylan: Yeah, next song, next song!

Morrison: And that was that - it was an album.

Dylan: Yeah, you'd make an album on three days or four days and it was over - if that many! It's that long now ... it takes four days to get a drum sound.

Bono: Do you know the Monty Python team, they're comedians, British comedians, 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail'. They have a sketch that reminds me of you guys - sitting back talking of days gone by: "You tell that to the young people of today and they'd never believe you". But you can't go backwards, you must go forward. You try to bring the values that were back there, you know, the strength, and if you see something that was lost, you got to find a new way to capture that same strength. Have you any idea of how to do that? I think you've done it by the way ... I think 'Shot Of Love', that opening track has that.

Dylan: I think so too, You're one of the few people to say that to me about that record, to mention that record to me.

Bono: That has *that* feeling.

Dylan: It's a great record, it suits just about everybody.

Bono: The sound from that record makes me feel like I'm in the same room as the other musicians. I don't feel like they're over *there*. Some of our records, I feel like they're over there because we got into this cinema type sound, not bland like FM sound, but we got into this very broad sound. Now we're trying to focus more of a punch, and that's what we are after, this intimacy .... I've never interviewed anybody before, by the way. I hate being interviewed myself.

Morrison: You're doing a good job!

Bono: Is this OK?. Good! What records do you listen to?

Dylan: What records do I listen to? New records? I don't know, just the old records really. Robert Johnson. I still listen to those records that I listened to when I was growing up - they really changed my life. They still change my life. They still hold up, you know. The Louvain Brothers, Hank Williams, Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Charlie Patton, I always liked to listen to him.

Bono: I just bought Woody Guthrie's 'Bound For Glory'. I'm just a beginner when it comes to America. I mean, it's changed me. When you go the US, coming from this country, it's more than a different continent ....

Morrison: It's shell shock.

Bono: Yeah, coming from troubled Ireland, it's the real shell shock! I'm just getting acquainted with American music and literature. Do you still see Allen Ginsberg?

Dylan: I run across Allen from time to time, yeah, Gregory Corsos's back now, he's doing some readings, I think he's just published a new book.

Bono: I've just been reading this book 'Howl'.

Dylan: Oh, that's very powerful. That's another book that changed me. 'Howl', 'On the Road', 'Dharma Bums'.

Morrison: (to Bono) Have you read 'On the Road'?

Bono: Yes I have, I'm just starting that. You have a reference in one of your songs to John Donne, 'Rave On John Donne'. Have you read his poetry?

Morrison: I was reading it at the time.

Dylan: (to Bono) You heard the songs - Brendan Behan's songs?

Bono: Yeah.

Dylan: 'Royal Canal', you know the 'Royal Canal'?

Morrison: His brother wrote it. His name is Dominic.

Dylan: Oh, Dominic wrote 'Royal Canal'?

Bono: You know Brendan's son hang out around here in Dublin. He's a good guy, I believe.

Dylan: I know the solo lyrics to the 'Royal Canal'. I used to sing it all the time.

Bono: How does it go?

Dylan: (sings) 'The hungry feeling came over me stealing, as the mice were squalling in my prison cell'.

Bono: That's right, yeah!

Dylan: (continues) 'That old triangle went jingle jangle, all along the banks of the Royal Canal'.

Bono: That's right, when did you read that?

Dylan: (there's no way stopping him now) 'In the female prison there's seventy women. It's all over there that I want to dwell. And that old triangle goes jingle jangle, all along the banks of the Royal Canal'.

Bono: Have you been to the Royal Canal?

Dylan: No I used to sing that song though. Every night.

Bono: Our music - as I was saying earlier - it doesn't have those roots.

Morrison: Yeah, there was a break in the lineage. I sussed that out when I went to see Thin Lizzy years ago, the first night in L.A. and I was watching at the back of the stage and I realized that the music was a complete cut in the connection between the end of the Sixties and the middle of the Seventies - a severing of the traditional lineage of groups.

Bono: I like to know more about roots music. I'm hungry for a past.

Morrison: You know you should listen to some of that stuff.

Bono: I will. I've been listening to some gospel music, you know, like the Swan Silvertones, and stuff like that.

Dylan: That's US stuff though.

Morrison: US stuff, but the British stuff you should listen to, you know, like some of the old stuff, like the Yardbirds.

Bono: Yeah, I've got some of their tapes recently, some real good tapes.

Dylan: You can still hear the McPeakes. The next generation may not be able to though. Who knows? I would hate to think that. Listen we're gonna have to get ready to play. Are you gonna stay for the show?

Bono: Certainly, that's what I'm here for actually.

Dylan: To record it, HA!

Vote For A Great Jazz Song
Moondance

NPR's A Blog Supreme is asking it's listener's to vote for The greatest Jazz songs Ever.

Soon, our Seattle-based NPR Music partners Jazz24 will create an online stream called The Jazz 100, featuring the 100 quintessential recorded jazz songs of all time. But first, Jazz24 needs to figure out what those songs are.

So they're asking for help. You can nominate your favorites for consideration at the Jazz24 website. Soon, they'll sit down and make the list using your input. And then you'll be able to hear the songs in a 24/7 streaming mix (think the All Songs Considered channel) here at NPR Music for two weeks.

Van's Moondance is a song that many fans believe is a jazz standard. Do you think so? If so, please vote at Name The 100 Greatest Jazz Songs Ever.

Tom Jones, Jeff Beck & Van 
Bring It On Home To Me 
 Trouble In Mind

From Martin Scorsese's 2003 Blues Documentaty.

40th Anniversary of Van's His Band And The Street Choir Album

Van Morison's His Band And The Street Choir was released 40 years ago today on 15 November 1970. Originally titled Virgo's Fool, Street Choir was renamed by Warner Brothers without Van's consent. Van had intended to record the album a cappella with only vocal backing by a vocal group he called the Street Choir.

Side one

"Domino"

"Crazy Face"

"Give Me a Kiss (Just One Sweet Kiss)"

"I've Been Working"

"Call Me Up in Dreamland"

"I'll Be Your Lover, Too"

Side two

"Blue Money"

"Virgo Clowns"

"Gypsy Queen"

"Sweet Jannie"

"If I Ever Needed Someone"

"Street Choir"

Street Choir peaked at number 32 on the Billboard 200 and number 18 on the UK Album Chart and was help mainly by the Top Ten hit Domino. Some songs on the album were previously recorded a few years earlier: I've Been Working was an out-take from the Astral Weeks sessions in 1968 and the Moondance sessions in 1969; If I Ever Needed Someone was also originally recorded in 1968; Virgo Clowns was first recorded at the start of 1969 as (Sit Down) Funny Face; Crazy Face evolved from "Going Around with Jesse James", a song Van first recorded for Astral Weeks on 15 October 1968.

Rolling Stone magazine's, Jon Landau, reviewed Street Choir and described it as follows:

His Band and the Street Choir is a free album. It was recorded with minimal over-dubbing and was obviously intended to show the other side of Moondance. And if it has a flaw it is that, like Moondance, it is too much what it set out to be. A few more numbers with a gravity of "Street Choir" would have made this album as close to perfect as anyone could have stood.

But notwithstanding its limitations. His Band and the Street Choir is another beautiful phase in the continuing development of one of the few originals left in rock. In his own mysterious way. Van Morrison continues to shake his head, strum his guitar and to sing his songs. He knows it's too late to stop now and he quit trying to a long, long time ago. Meanwhile, the song he is singing keeps getting better and better.

RTE Radio 1: Listening to Van Morrison

A special programme, Listening To Van Morrison, with Greil Marcus, American music and cultural critic, author of Listening to Van Morrison (Faber), as he explains what he has come to understand about Morrison's music from paying it deep attention, with special emphasis on the achievement and enduring appeal of Astral Weeks (1968).

24-Oct-10 Royal Albert Hall, London, England

Van reached some incredible heights at the RAH last night. The range in his voice once he opened up with Fair Play, after the toe-tapping ‘greatest hits’ openers, was simply stunning. We saw Van the jazz musician, the blues-man and the pop singer but it is those searching, searing moments of stunning ‘Celtic soul’ that make Van so unique and that bring shivers to the spine and tears to the eyes. And there were plenty of them last night, with Fair Play, In the Garden, Into the Mystic, and Ballerina simply stunning and all worth the ticket price alone. Beautiful, beguiling, rousing, compelling, life-affirming music that just touches something, who knows what…. So, a fantastic show and thank goodness that Van is still performing, still playing and singing these songs. But when a Van show ends though you’re always left wanting just that little bit more which is, I guess, a good thing….Thank you Van.

-Simon

At 45 minutes last night after a sublime In The Garden I thought "This could be the best show ever". He then took us higher still, but it trailed off a bit, and the crowd-pleasing Have I Told You Lately and Bright Side were extremely flat, with a rousing Help Me and Gloria bringing it back up.

Thanks to Paolo for photos.

Fair Play was wonderful, Little Village merely great and Moondance - as ever - let the band stretch out. Although I groaned when it started, Keep Mediocrity At Bay was enjoyable, as was Keep It Simple later - just goes to show that Van does things with songs on stage that don't happen in the studio.

The first hour, after the now traditional throat warmers (Baby Please Don't Go>Here Comes The Night>BEG) was stunning - it summed up the reason why we all do this. All In The Game, In The Garden, a great Celtic Excavation>Into The Mystic and the rendition of Ballerina was the best I've heard - a completely different song - but then..............

But I still came out smiling. I bumped into Simon at the merchandise stand - he thought it a '7', I'd have said '8' - just for Fair Play, Garden and Ballerina. What's great is that Van is performing these songs now as well as - or better - than ever and his voice is still way beyond what anybody else can do. It could have been sublime, but he was merely wonderful. Are we setting our expectations high again, and isn't that great?

The band were on the whole excellent, although the drummer needs a bit of education - I heard him too much. Good to see Paul Moore back on bass. Nobody can ever replace David Hayes, but I thought Paul was good in the shows before the Astral Weeks tour. Jay Berliner continues to be perfect, and Paul Moran holds it all together. The lead guitarist (Andy Jones?) was impressive on his solos without being over-indulgent. The two young horn players, one on trombone, the other on tenor sax, flute, clarinet and oboe, were excellent. As JC said afterwards, it's great that Van uses young players in his band. They played with real confidence. At one point, we had trumpet, trombone and two saxes wailing out - when did that last happen? (I know - Glasgow the night before).

As ever, it was equally wonderful meeting a load of old friends, and even more new ones. I'll forget people, for which usual apologies, but there were fans from Belgium, Holland, France, Spain and probably loads of other places. Great to see Pat again after too many years, the wonderful, Dail, Peter, JC, Brenda, Julia, Marion, Bert, Brendan - the list isn't endless but it may as well be with my memory! Nosey took pains to make introductions - a real Vanbassador.

Just before we left the pub for the show, Nosey and I were talking to a young couple. It was their first van show. He'd always loved his music, her dad had always been a fan and brought her up on it. I hope they enjoyed what we all got.

Cheers

-Jez

This was Van 2010 version. Greatest hits live it was billed as and taking away Keep Mediocrity At Bay that is what we got.

For those of us fortunate enough to have witnessed the sensational Astral Weeks shows at The RAH this show was always going to be difficult one.

Van however was at his professional best. Most importantly he gave 100% to all the songs. The newish band were excellent however Van without Richie Buckley is always a sadness.

The new start with the medley of Baby please don't go, Brown Eyed Girl and Here Comes The Night was fine. Fair Play was wonderful. The £200 price tag was actually made good value by a 15 minute period during which he took us all into that higher ground in a way that only he can.

In the Garden was remarkable - always a strong closing song at his live gigs in the late 80's - his sensitive delivery was just stunning. Definite highlight of the night.

However many times I have seen him play Game live it never disappoints and this version was one of the best.

I have a feeling that we may only see Van on odd occasions in the UK in years to come. I hope that we don't just get greatest hits shows. I will keep going even if it is for those magical few minutes which still enthrall and amaze us.

Also while he still cares it is worth going. There was a sense of real effort last night. Thanks Van - come back again.

-Johnny Longley

Sunshine In London

I knew it was going to be a great Sunday. I woke to see three swans gliding on the glass water of our dock, in the weak autumn sun of a chilly blue sky. It was a majestic start to a day that ended with a Van Morrison concert at the Royal Albert Hall.

If you have read any of my blog posts, you will know I am crazy about Van Morrison’s music. Like silly crazy. So when my husband got this new job, we celebrated by buying tickets for this one-night-only Classic Van concert at the Royal Albert Hall. He knew it was a big treat for me, as I had eyed this show since it was first announced back in June. I think we got the last two tickets in the house. We didn’t even sit together. And our seats were in the “choir” section, above and behind the stage. We had a fabulous view of the band, and – knowing Van and his propensity to turn to face his band – I was pretty confident we’d see more of his face that way. And we did.

We had to brave the cold London evening and cross the city on unreliable weekend public transport, but we arrived a good hour early. The Royal Albert Hall is a beautiful, regal venue in South Kensington, built as part of Prince Albert’s vision for the promotion of the arts and science. It was completed after Prince Albert’s death from typhoid, and opened in 1871. Directly opposite it, in Hyde Park, is the famous golden memorial to the Prince Consort, described as one of the grandest, high-Victorian gothic extravaganzas anywhere. At night it stands in grand, spot-lit splendour against a dark sky.

We went into the Hall as soon as the doors opened, bought some coffee and hung around the foyer and the corridors. We looked at brochures and framed photographs of stars on the hall’s hallowed stages, reckoning we’d take our seats about 15 minutes before the show was due to start. I was so excited I couldn’t stand still … classic Van, man! Does it get better than that? Seriously? I don’t think so.

Our seats were not too bad, one row and about five seats apart. Enough for me to keep looking at my husband and smiling and waving and winking and smiling and waving and, did I say smiling? There was not much leg room between the rows, and I was glad not to be long-legged, nor to have shoes one size bigger. The seat was big enough for me to boogy in, though, and boogy I did!

I sat next to a stiff-lipped English couple, and a cheerful Dutch chappy in a checked shirt. Turns out he was as much of a Van fan as I am – sheesh, he’d flown in from the Netherlands for the concert – and we soon became new best friends.

The band started to arrive on the stage, the lights went down and that big voice said, “Ladies and gentleman, MR VAN MORRISON!” I like that voice. And that’s when I began to scream. And whistle.

Van, in trademark dark suit, dark glasses and black fedora, walked on to the stage, microphone in hand, harmonica in mouth, and opened his show with a medley of Baby, Please Don’t Go and Here Comes the Night. I felt like crying. He went on to sing his well-known favourites like Brown Eyed Girl, Moondance, Have I told You Lately, Into the Mystic, Ballerina, Bright Side of the Road. My personal favourite was All in the Game, which he teased out into the most incredible arrangement with solos from each of his band members: trombonist, pianist, saxophonist, drummer, double bass player, lead guitarist and acoustic guitarist. The double bass player doubled as a bass guitarist, and Van doubled as a saxophonist and harmonica player. I can’t even describe the music they made – just sublime.

I loved watching Van control his musicians with the flick of his hand and a trilling of his fingers. He did what he does so well – brings the music to a stomping crescendo and then right back down to a whisper. I was with him on his every word, every note and I didn’t want to miss a thing. He closed with a rousing version of Gloria, which brought the entire audience to its feet. It was indescribable to experience a packed Royal Albert Hall, filled to the rafters, with Van-loving punters clapping and screaming and whistling for his music never to end. We couldn’t take photographs, but that sight – and feeling – overwhelmed me as it etched itself in my mind.

I made a note of Van’s playlist, lest I forget, and my Dutch neighbour chipped in when he thought I might not know the title – which, believe me, wasn’t often! If I couldn’t sit with my husband, it was wonderful to sit beside another fellow Van fan. After the show finished, we agreed we had just experienced a very very special concert. I told him I had felt like crying, and he said, “Yes, I had some of those moments too.”

One thing about Van’s music is that it is so difficult to categorise. When I look for his music in a music shop, I never know whether to look in the soul section, R & B, jazz, blues, folk. His music could be in any or all of those. But last night, I was reminded that he is in a category all of his own: awesome. Totally awesome.

Setlist
Baby Please Don’t Go->Here Comes The Night
Brown Eyed Girl
Fair Play/Autumn Song
Keep Mediocrity at Bay
Little Village
Moondance
It's All in the Game
In The Garden
Celtic Excavation->Into The Mystic
Ballerina
Have I Told You Lately
Bright Side Of The Road
Keep It Simple
Help Me
Gloria

Big Hand for the Band!
Chris White - Sax
Alistair White - Trombone
Jeff Lardner - Drums
Paul Moore - Bass
Paul Moran - Organ
Jay Berliner - Guitar


Much thanks to Paolo for his amazing photos - see them here. Grazie!