Summary.
The most erudite contribution to reforming folk-rock came from the former
vocalist of Them, Van Morrison,
who quickly established himself as the most significant musician of his
generation. The lengthy, complex, hypnotic, dreamy jams of
Astral Weeks (1968) coined an
abstract, free-form song format that blended soul, jazz, folk and psychedelia
and was performed with the austere intensity of chamber music.
The psychedelic and jazz elements came to the foreground on
Moondance (1970), which boasted lush, baroque arrangements.
Perhaps sensing the end of an era, for a few years
Morrison abandoned those bold experiments and retreated to
bland rhythm'n'blues songs, with the notable exception of Listen To The Lion, off St Dominic's Preview (1972).
Then Veedon Fleece (1974) applied the same treatment to a
pastoral, nostalgic and elegiac mood.
Morrison's vocal style continued to develop towards a unique form of warbling
that bridged Celtic bards and soul singers.
On albums such as Into The Music (1979), A Common One (1980),
A Beautiful Vision (1982) and Inarticulate Speech Of The Heart (1983)
Morrison employed disparate musical elements to mold compositions that are
profoundly personal and even philosophical, that are both arduous meditations
and elaborate constructions, that are, ultimately, more similar to classical "suites" than to pop songs.
His stately odes displayed an increasing affectation, often sounding like
pretentious sermons, but born out of a painful convergence of
spiritual self-flagellation, tortured confession, shamanic trance,
James Joyce's stream of consciousness,
John Donne's metaphysical poetry and
and William Blake's visionary symbolism.
Full bio.
(Translated from the Italian by Troy Sherman)
Perhaps too educated or too introverted to belong to the
school of rock music, Van Morrison was one of the most significant artists of
the 1970s.
Taking the cue from the most abstract songs of Bob Dylan and Tim Buckley, from psychedelic
and progressive rock, from the Celtic bards and the soul singer, Van Morrison
invented a new kind of singer-songwriter, one who uses the basic components of
folk, country, jazz, and rhythm and blues to compose songs that are deeply
personal and even philosophical. His greatest works are in fact complex,
cleansing compositions that resemble “suites” more than classic pop songs.
Morrison’s style throughout his career ranged from the
dilated mystic-soul of Astral Weeks to
the baroque psychedelic-jazz of Moondance,
and everywhere in between. Through his experimentation, he was seeking a form
of expression that was both tragic and elegant. The mature style of his
difficult moral exercises varies between the different emotions he tries to
portray. Sometimes the music is confused and disorganized, a sign of the
artist’s acute inner torment. Sometimes the music is dreamy, floating on
improvisation and free form instruments, illustrating a shaman in a trance. At
times, his music can stray to sanguinity, tenseness, or flamboyancy, all in the
best tradition of cathartic soul music. In all of these cases, whatever is
stimulating his emotion is in urgent need of being let loose. His musical
search is a search for a new wisdom, rooted in tradition and in communion with
nature.
Van Morrison’s roots lie in the mystical folk of Celtic
legends. Tedious preparation allowed him in each of his albums to use the best
poetry and jazz. Through endless musical toil, he created atmospheres full of
mystery and streams of consciousness, which his supple voice masterfully
dominated. His songs, created by masterful orchestration and laborious efforts
to keep a consistent scene, have become the standard for the most serious
American songwriters.
Van Morrison is also the artist who created a body of work
most closely melting the guttural moans of the blues singers with the free prose
of James Joyce and the flowing artistic consciousness of William James.
While always remaining on the border between popular music
and art music, Van Morrison chiseled enormously sophisticated arrangements with
intense and reckless vocals. He often gave the impression of trying to
stubbornly create a masterpiece, a work so complex and deep that it would
finally deliver him to posterity. Although he achieved this, he risked sounding
self-indulgent and pretentious.
Morrison began as the lead singer of Them in Belfast (Northern
Ireland) from 1964 to 1966. They were one of many white rhythm and blues bands
of the era. Before Them he played guitar, harmonica, and saxophone in a combo
of jazz and rhythm and blues.
In 1967, after splitting with Them, he moved to New York and
found immediate success with the dream Brown
Eyed Girl (produced by Bert Berns). The album Blowin' Your Mind (Bang, 1967) was released with Morrison’s
consent, and shows him as an artist still slightly awkward. At this stage, his
model seems to be an angrier, more proletarian Ray Charles. His first stream of
consciousness song, T.B. Sheets, the
last song on the album, proves that he wants to go beyond simple rhythm and
blues, and reach into the realm of the introverted composer, high-class
vocalist, and cunning arranger. At this point, these qualities are not yet
blended, as if Morrison had not been able to prove the theorem, but only state
the postulates.
The following summer, Morrison moved to Boston, and began
seeking an almost magical solution to the aforementioned puzzle. Aided by a
handful of jazz musicians, he recorded an acoustic themed album, entitled Astral Weeks (Warner, 1968). At times
romantic, mystical, and
impressionistic, this disc makes extensive use of elements of both folk and
jazz. The eight pieces within are song-poems, at the same time sophisticated
and suffering, and always intensely colorful. In reality, this collection of
songs is a diary, an ambitious experiment of meditative and introspective
music. Each song is a jumble of tormented emotions, a steam of images.
Morrison’s cohorts are all experienced jazz musicians, who help him weave a
carpet of velvety, twisted sounds (flute, vibraphone, bass, violin), while
Morrison ennobles the soul tradition with the intermittent forays of his voice.
The album was arranged by producer Lew Merenstein, who created the ultimate "chamber folk" experience.
The title track is a cascade of internal sounds: Morrison’s
voice tells a story almost without singing. The instruments are angry and sick,
dreamy and melancholic, with a bass marking the dense and obsessive rhythm. The
flute and petulant violin languidly dart around in turn, and the end of the
song dissolves in a soft breath. Upon superficial inspection, the song could be
classified as the typical “Latin Soul” of Berns, but there are too many
elements out of place. The Caribbean tribalism is appeased into a resigned
shuffle, the gospel yearning is taken by the wrath of street thugs, the
swinging accompaniment adapts to a free-jazz mold, and the chorus is repeated
aimlessly and endlessly. Beside You
is a gaunt and lonely nightmare in the style of Tim Buckley. It is shouted in a
cry, stretched and deformed while paranoid instruments vibrate freely and
discreetly. Morrison’s voice fluctuates crazily in their chaos, but with a hysteria
that is unlike Buckley. The melancholic harpsichord in Cyprus Avenue creates a fairy landscape that appears and disappears
behind a lazy and seductive misty vapor. It has a velvety mixture of flute,
violin, and bass that carries the music through a galloping cascade of mirages.
The harpsichord urges, the voice writhes, and the violin and the viola imitate
that of the LSD inspired John Cale. Ballerina is typical of the almost minimalistic harmonic technique
of the disk: the romantic vibes are repeated endlessly around the mystic
recitation of Morrison’s history; the violin, trombone, and the flute gradually
creep, and each comes to counterpoint the vibraphone. Polyphony pushes the
vibraphone to complicate its pattern, and its aforementioned partners adapt
themselves to its new pattern, so that the song generates an imperceptible
growth of sound. Madame George is the
most relaxed and tender track on the disc, and it summarizes the dreamlike,
romantic, articulate and bright language of Van Morrison. The song’s story is
cradled in ethereal flute and violin duets. It is dilated by a form of slow
motion psychedlia, elevating the song up to a kind of mystical stasis. But, the
most rarefied song is the closer, Slim
Slow Slider, whose stunning developments of jazz flute prove it to be a
final short aphorism.
The next disc, Moondance
(Warner, 1970), reaffirms that Van Morrison was in the midst of an excellently
creative artistic season. The songs here are shorter and more relaxed than on Astral Weeks, and the accompaniment is
more organic, compact, and straightforward. The artistic expansion due to
free-jazz and psychedlia found on his second album are banned in favor of more
well-mannered soul arrangements. The 12 man ensemble on this record is less
classical that the previous and much more “rhythm and blues” (the “horn
section” predominates over the “string section”).
This is certainly the hardest and most melodic of Morrison’s
work, thanks to the immortal chorus of And
it Stoned Me (an epic piano cadence, counterpointed by romantic sax), Caravan (a solid syncopated boogie), and
Glad Tidings (which uses the
saxophone to make a melodic counterpoint). This record is also the “jazziest,”
especially with the swinging atmosphere of Moondance
(with a liquid piano, ethereal flute, and scratchy sax), and Crazy Love, which is composed of the
gentle caress of the night.
The total soul of the record does not overwhelm every song,
as Morrison created several masterpieces in other musical contexts: see the
nervous rhythm and blues of Into the
Mystic, the rhythmic gospel of Come
Running, the shuffling blues of These
Dreams of You (with harmonica and clavinet, and a jazz saxophone solo), or
the classical dance of Everyone (with
baroque harpsichord and medieval flute).
Completing the record’s smorgasbord of genre (always held
together by the backdrop of soul) is Brand
New Day, suspended in space by nice touches and breaks and poignant vocal
delusions. This song acts as something of a return to the previous record; it
is an impressionistic sketch of heavenly, soft snowfall on a series of
beautiful notes.
More quiet and introverted, the atmosphere of Moondance has much less to do with the
spiritual nightmare of Astral Weeks,
and it is in fact altogether more musical.
All of the songs on this record are arrangements composed
with the utmost care, using extensive instrumentation, the vocal support of a
women’s chorus, and leveraging a rhythm section infused with fierce rhythm and
blues and soul. The compositions are concise and terse, almost lapidary if one
takes into account the harmonic complexity. The singer’s style is fluid,
intense, and passionate. His voice is seen ever-searching for emotional balance
on a thin wire, moving from faint depression, to nervousness, to spirituality
and mysticism. Here, the English progressive song finds its point of maximum
sophistication, and Morrison qualifies as the greatest aesthete in soul music’s
history.
The “perfect” style that Morrison struck on Moondance found the most supreme
compromise between progressive and pop music to that date. After the album,
Morrison, living in California, proved not too be as acrobatic, at least until
1974. The experiments that followed were disappointing. A few songs, however,
proved to stick out as better than the rest: Domino (one of his classic rhythm and blues numbers), found on His Band and the Street Choir (1970),
and Tupelo Honey and I Wanna Roo You from Tupelo Honey (1972), which casts an eye
on country and pop. The album Saint
Dominic’s Preview (1972) was slightly better, boasting Bernie Krause on
synthesizer and containing Jackie Wilson
Said (another classic rhythm and blues), the long Listen to the Lion (worthy of Astral
Weeks), and Almost Independence Day.
The somber Snow in San Anselmo and
the long Autumn Song were not enough
to redeem Hard Nose the Highway (1973).
Morrison, now the effective “owner” of the Caledonia Soul Orchestra for backup
during tours, ranged between the smooth falsetto of Curtis Mayfield and the
hoarse shout of Wilson
Picket. Throughout his career he has proven to be the only white man
able to compete with such black vocalists, but at this point in his career he
seemed to have abandoned the abstract folk-jazz projects of Astral Weeks.
Finally, back in his native Ireland, Morrison was able to
channel his original “pastoral” inspiration of his prior masterpieces into a
new introverted work, Veedon Fleece (Warner,
1974). Although it does not reach the levels of lyrical greatness, this album
contains delightful serenades such as the passionate Country Fair and the long and vibrant You Don’t Pull No Punches. The mood of the album is quiet and
rural, as if Morrison was seeking refuge from the urban alienation that came
with his fame. The exotic Streets of
Arlow and Linden Arden seem to
float towards Heaven.
It's Too Late to Stop Now (1974) is a live album.
Morrison returned to California after just a few years of
rest and began to play cocktail lounge jazz and rhythm and blues. Period of Transition (1977) shows his
return with a great pomp of short rhythm and blues songs (The Eternal Kansas City, Heavy
Connection, It Feels You Up, Flamingos Fly). Only Cold Wind in August weaves anything near
his old web of emotional vision.
Morrison’s artistic renaissance, though, was yet to come.
Later albums would portray the honest and sometimes brilliant craftsmanship of
Morrison dealing fervently with more and more challenging themes of almost
biblical proportions. Sadly, though, no trace of the roaring heat of his youth
would remain.
Wavelength (1978)
is a bit relaxed and dispersive; the instruments range from big band staples,
to synth, to accordion. He harks back to the formal perfection of Moondance in the festive soul of Kingdom Hall, moved to possessed reggae
in Venice U.S.A., danced to martial,
invocative emotion in Take it Where You
Find It, and shivered in the disco of Wavelength.
Morrison found confidence and inspiration (in the religious
sense) on Into The Music (Warner,
1979), an erotic and mystical song cycle. With a mini-folk-jazz orchestra
(comprised of Toni Marcus,
Mark Isham
on trumpets, and myriad female voices)
Morrison creates mature and complex polychromatic harmonics from contaminated
honky tonk (Bright Side of the Road)
to commercial rhythm and blues (Full
Force Gale and Stepping Out Queen)
to the folk elegy (Rolling Hills and Troubadours).
The four ballads of the second side are some of the
transcendental peaks of Morrison’s music. These songs float in a free-form
manner, and, reminiscent of Buckley’s, Morrison’s voice flips and tumbles over
a broad area of registers, while the musicians create a thick but resigned
sonic background.
In Angeliou,
Morrison flies on the wings of an intense emotionalism, and it is one of his
vocal gems, composed of the whispers and laments of lovers, alternating with a
crystal fluidity. And the Healing Has
Begun is an incredible epic, and displays the more aggressive side of
Morrison’s now mature vocalism, capable of giving the charge of a gospel
fervor. You Know What They’re Writing
About, the closer, is the album’s most mournful ballad.
Henceforth, his records are not easy collections of songs,
but rather spiritual diaries in which the soul is torn apart by the universal
themes of life and death. The music goes together more and more recklessly.
A Common One (1980)
is anything but as bright as his previous works, as it dives into the more
rarefied mysticism. The painful When
Heart is Open stands alongside the ravings of Tim Buckley, and is perhaps
the most haunting and withdrawn songs in Morrison’s catalogue. The fifteen
minutes of Summertime in England act
as a last confession before the spasms of death.
Beautiful Vision
(1982) is too pastoral in its intent; it is as wordy as a book of sermons. But,
it is also the best arranged (and most jazzy) since Moondance. Seemingly with his eyes closed, Morrison created the
elegant ballads of Vanlose Stairway, Beautiful Vision, She Gives Me Religion, and Dweller
on the Threshold.
Inarticulate Speech
of the Heart (1983) is perhaps his most cerebral disc, inspired by the
theosophy of Scientology. It is mostly instrumental, and torn between a fusion
of jazz and Celtic folk. That mixture hovers majestically in the eponymous
gospel chant, repeating ad infinitum the manifesto “I’m a soul in wonder…”
William Blake and John Donne (Rave on,
John Donne) are his favorite poets.
Sense Of Wonder
(Mercury, 1984) was not pervaded by the visionary symbolism of the previous
album, and instead returned to his favorite subject of Celtic dream blues: the
wonders of love and the complex mysteries of the human soul and nature. Sense of Wonder, with gospel vocal
counterpoints, rhythm and blues, and doses of Tupelo Honey, is another page in his diary of existential
suffering. Tore Down a la Rimbaud continues
amid symbolist poetry. Many of the songs are beautiful instrumentals (Boffyflow and Spike and Evening Meditation) related to Celtic
folklore of magic and antiquity.
No Guru,
No Method, No Teacher (1986), which marks an official
return to his Celtic roots, refines the practice of spiritualism into
calibrated pop-jazz arrangements. The elegies are even more intense and deep (In the Garden) without sacrificing the
heat of the rhythm and blues (Ivory Tower).
Poetic Champions
Compose (1987) pushes his obsessive personal odyssey through a maze of
pantheistic mysticism through a catalog of intense folk phrases, permanently
expanded through an emotional trance and unable to reach a climax of pathos.
His lyrics here are more and more enigmatic; they are the Christian equivalent
of a Tibetan guru. The transcendental spirit of this period is shown in the refined
instrumental work in Spanish Steps and
Celtic Excavation.
At this point, Morrison worked his way to the opposite end
of the beginning of his career, from black soul music to white European folk
music.
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Forse troppo colto e introverso per appartenere alla musica rock,
Van Morrison e` uno degli artisti piu` significativi degli anni '70.
Prendendo lo spunto dalle canzoni piu` astratte di
Bob Dylan e
Tim Buckley, dal
rock psichedelico e dal progressive-rock,
dai bardi celtici e dai soul singer,
Van Morrison invento` una nuova figura di singer-songwriter,
che usava le due componenti fondamentali del folk, del country, del jazz e del
rhythm and blues per comporre canzoni profondamente personali e financo
filosofiche, composizioni forbite e complesse che assomigliano piu` a "suite"
classiche che a canzoni pop.
Partito dal soul dilatato di Astral Weeks, e approdato subito al barocco
jazz-psichedelico di Moondance, Morrison si e` poi avventurato in
territori al confine fra questi due mondi, alla ricerca di una forma espressiva
che fosse al tempo stesso tragica ed elegante.
Lo stile maturo di queste ardue confessioni morali oscilla fra diversi modi
di comunicare sensazioni. A volte Morrison e` confuso e
disordinato, segno di un acuto tormento interiore. A volte il suo canto e`
trasognato, e fluttua sull'improvvisazione libera degli strumenti come quello
di uno sciamano in trance. Altre volte e` sanguigno, teso, reboante, nella
migliore tradizione soul.
In tutti i casi
lo stimolo e` il bisogno urgente di comunicare un messaggio: quello della
ricerca di una nuova forma di saggezza, radicata nelle tradizioni e
nella comunione con la Natura.
Le radici di Van Morrison affondano nel folk mistico delle leggende celtiche.
Una severa
preparazione gli permette di utilizzare al meglio poesia e jazz nei suoi pezzi, per fabbricare le atmosfere pregne di mistero e i flussi di coscienza
che la sua duttile voce sa dominare magistralmente.
Il canto, l'orchestrazione e il modo professionale di tenere la scena, sono
diventati lo standard per i cantautori americani piu` seri.
Van Morrison e` anche l'artista che e` andato piu` vicino a fondere il lamento
gutturale del blues e la prosa libera di James Joyce, due manifestazioni
artistiche del flusso di coscienza di William James.
Pur restando sempre al confine fra musica d'intrattenimento e opera d'arte,
Van Morrison, cesellando a dismisura arrangiamenti sofisticati, versi intensi e
vocalizzi spericolati, ha dato sovente l'impressione di cercare testardamente
il capolavoro, l'opera complessa e profonda che lo consegni definitivamente ai
posteri, a costo di sembrare auto-indulgente e pretenzioso.
Van Morrison era stato il cantante dei Them
a Belfast (Northern Ireland) dal 1964 al 1966,
uno dei tanti complessi di rhythm and blues bianco dell'epoca.
Prima dei Them aveva suonato chitarra, sassofono e armonica in combo
di jazz e rhythm and blues.
Nel 1967 si trasferi` a New York e trovo` subito un successo di classifica con
la sognante e latineggiante Brown Eyed Girl (scritta da Bert Berns).
L'album Blowin' Your Mind (Bang, 1967) venne pubblicato senza il suo
consenso e mostra un artista ancora impacciato.
Il suo modello pare essere un Ray Charles appena piu` "arrabbiato", piu`
proletario. Il suo primo flusso di coscienza, T.B. Sheets, rivela che
Morrison vuole spingersi
oltre il rhyhm and blues, che si tratta soprattutto di un compositore
introverso, ma al tempo stesso di un vocalist di gran classe e di un
arrangiatore smaliziato.
Queste qualita` non sono ancora amalgamate, come se Morrison non fosse ancora
riuscito a dimostrare il teorema, ma soltanto a enunciare i postulati.
Nell'estate successiva, trasferitosi a Boston, Van Morrison trovo` la soluzione del puzzle in modo
quasi magico. Aiutato da un pugno di musicisti jazz, incise un album
acustico a tema, diviso in due parti, Astral Weeks (Warner, 1968).
Romantico, mistico e impressionista, il disco fa ampio uso di
elementi folk e jazz. Gli otto pezzi sono canzoni-poesie, al tempo stesso
sofferte e sofisticate, intense e cromatiche. La raccolta costituisce di fatto
un diario intimo, un esperimento ambizioso di musica meditativa e introspettiva.
Ogni brano e` un magma di emozioni tormentate, un flusso di immagini personali.
I comprimari sono tutti esperti jazzisti che tessono un tappeto vellutato e
contorto di suoni (flauto, vibrafono, contrabbasso, violino)
e Morrison nobilita la tradizione soul con le sue discontinue
scorribande vocali.
The album was arranged by producer Lew Merenstein, who created the ultimate "chamber folk" experience.
La title-track e` una cascata di suoni interiori: la voce
che racconta quasi senza cantare, ora rabbiosa e malata, ora sognante e
malinconica, il contrabbasso che scandisce un ritmo fitto e ossessivo, il
flauto petulante e il violino languido che saettano a turno; con un finale che
si dissolve in un tenue respiro.
In embrione potrebbe essere un tipico "latin soul" di Berns, ma troppi elementi
sono fuori posto: il tribalismo caraibico viene placato in un dimesso shuffle,
l'anelito gospel si sposa alle invettive dei teppisti di strada, l'
accompagnamento swingante si adegua al free-jazz, e il ritornello non ha fine,
si ripete all'infinito.
Beside You e` un incubo scarno e solitario nello stile
di Tim Buckley, un lamento urlato, teso e deforme, paranoico: gli strumenti
vibrano liberi e discreti, e la voce fluttua impazzita nel loro caos, ma con un'
isteria che e` ignota a Buckley.
Il clavicembalo malinconico di Cyprus Avenue strania un crescendo onirico di
lievi magie evanescenti, colora un paesaggio fiabesco che appare e scompare
dietro i vapori di una nebbia pigra e seducente, impasto vellutato di flauto,
violino e contrabbasso; la musica galoppa incontro a miraggi, con il
clavicembalo che incalza, il canto che si contorce, il violino che imita la
viola lisergica di Cale.
Ballerina e` tipica della tecnica armonica quasi minimalista del disco:
il vibrafono ripete all'infinito una frase romantica, intorno alla quale
Morrison declama la sua storia; poco a poco si insinuano il violino, il
trombone, il flauto, e ciascuno entra in contrappunto al vibrafono; la
polifonia spinge il vibrafono a complicare il suo pattern, ei suoi
interlocutori si adeguano a loro volta al nuovo pattern; si genera cosi` un
crescendo quasi impercettibile, che presto dovrasta pero` il canto stesso;
e proprio allora ha inizio la dissolvenza del finale.
Madame George e` il momento piu` rilassato e tenero del disco, e ne riassume
la dimensione onirica e romantica, il linguaggio articolato e luminoso,
cullato in duetti eterei di flauto e violino, dilatato da una forma di ralenti`
psichedelico fino a una sorta di stasi mistica.
Il brano piu` rarefatto, con splendide evoluzioni jazz al flauto nel vuoto,
e` pero` il breve aforisma finale, Slim Slow Slider.
Il successivo Moondance (Warner, 1970) ribadi` l'eccellente stagione
creativa di Van Morrison.
Rispetto a Astral Weeks i brani sono piu` brevi e rilassati,
e l'accompagnamento e` piu` organico, compatto e lineare. Le dilatazioni
dovute al free-jazz e alla psichedelia sono state bandite a favore di un
arrangiamento soul lambiccato e manieristico. L'ensemble
di dodici unita` e` meno classicheggiante e piu` rhythm and blues (una
"horn section" predomina sulla "string section").
E` certamente il disco piu` melodico di Morrison, grazie ai ritornelli
immortali di And It Stoned Me (cadenza epica di piano, contrappunto
romantico di sax), Caravan (un solido boogie sincopato) e Glad Tidings
(in cui e` il sax a fare il controcanto melodico).
Ed e` anche il piu` jazz, con le atmosfere swinganti di Moondance (per
piano liquido, flauto etereo e sax graffiante) e Crazy Love, carezza delicata
da night.
Ma il soul "totale" di Morrison si spinge ben oltre e compone capolavori
anche in altri contesti armonici, vedi il rhythm and blues nervoso e cadenzato
di Into The Mystic, il gospel ritmato e festoso di Come Running,
il blues strascicato di These Dreams Of You (con armonica e clavinette,
e un assolo jazz di sassofono), la danza classicheggiante di Everyone
(clavicembalo barocco e flauto medievale).
A completare queste armonie sospese nello spazio incantato che e` il margine
di tutti i generi e di nessuno, fatte di tocchi e di pause, e di struggenti
deliri vocali, e` un ritorno di sogno astrale, Brand New Day, schizzo
impressionista paradisiaco con soffice nevicata di note.
Piu' calma ed introversa, l'atmosfera di
Moondance non ha nulla dell'incubo soprannaturale di Astral Weeks, e` un
fatto tutto sommato piu` musicale e meno personale.
In tutte le canzoni della raccolta l'arrangiamento e` rifinito con cura
maniacale, facendo ricorso a una strumentazione estesa, senza
lesinare i sostegni vocali del coro femminile, e facendo leva su una sezione
ritmica da combo di rhythm and blues. Le composizioni sono sintetiche e
concise, quasi lapidarie se si tiene conto della loro complessita'
armonica. Lo stile del cantante e` fluido, sempre intenso e appassionato,
teso su un filo emozionale il cui equilibrio non viene mai compromesso ne` da
scatti nervosi ne` da deliqui depressi. La canzone progressiva inglese trova
qui il suo punto di massima raffinatezza.
E Morrison si qualifica come massimo esteta del soul.
Lo stile "perfetto" di Moondance aveva scoperto un compromesso suggestivo
fra la musica pop e la musica progressiva. Morrison, adesso residente in
California, non era pero` abbastanza
acrobata da mantenere l'equilibrio, e negli anni seguenti, almeno fino al 1974,
gli esperimenti che si susseguirono furono deludenti. A salvarsi sono alcune
canzoni: Domino (uno dei suoi classici numeri rhythm and blues), da His Band And the Street Choir (1970),
Tupelo Honey, I Wanna Roo You e Wild Night da
Tupelo Honey (1971), album che strizza l'occhio al country e al pop.
St Dominic's Preview (1972), che vantava
Bernie Krause al sintetizzatore,
fu un lavoro piu` serio,
grazie a Jackie Wilson Said (altro classico rhythm and blues)
e alle lunghe Listen To The Lion (degna
di Astral Weeks) e
Almost Independence Day.
La cupa Snow In San Anselmo e la lunga Autumn Song non bastano
invece a redimere Hard Nose The Highway (1973).
Morrison, ora titolare della Caledonia Soul Orchestra, oscillava fra il
levigato falsetto di Curtis Mayfield e il rauco shout di Wilson Pickett,
unico bianco a poter competere con tali vocalist neri, ma sembrava aver
abbandonato il progetto del folk-jazz astratto di Astral Weeks.
Finalmente, tornato nella nativa Irlanda, Morrison ritrovo` l'ispirazione
"pastorale" del suo capolavoro e registro` un altro lavoro introverso,
Veedon Fleece (Warner, 1974). Benche' non raggiunga i livelli lirici
del capolavoro, quest'album contiene
deliziose serenate astrali come l'appassionata Country Fair e la lunga
e vibrante You Don't Pull No Punches. L'umore e` sereno e rurale,
come se Morrison cercasse rifugio dall'alienazione urbana.
Il flauto esotico di Streets Of Arlow e i giochi di
piano di Linden Arden sembrano librarsi verso il Paradiso.
Morrison torna pero` subito in california e, dopo qualche anno di riposo,
riprende a suonare jazz e rhythm and blues da cocktail lounge.
Period Of Transition (1977) ritorna con gran pompa alle canzoni brevi di
rhythm and blues fiatistico
(The Eternal Kansas City, Heavy Connection, It Feels You Up,
Famingos Fly).
Soltanto
Cold Wind In August tesse ragnatele
emotive visionarie.
La rinascita artistica e` comunque alle porte.
Gli album successivi tratteggiano l'onesto e qualche volta geniale
artigianato di Van Morrison affrontando con fervore quasi biblico tematiche via
via piu` impegnative.
Della sporca ruggente foga giovanile non rimane traccia.
Wavelength (1978), album rilassato e un po' dispersivo,
impiega una big band con persino synth (Peter Bardens dei Camel) e
fisarmonica, e ritrova un po' della perfezione formale di Moondance
nel soul festoso di Kingdom Hall,
nel reggae spiritato di Venice USA,
nella marziale e commossa invocazione di Take It Where You Find It,
nei brividi da discoteca di Wavelength.
Morrison ritrova fiducia e ispirazione (in senso religioso) su
Into The Music (Warner, 1979),
un ciclo di canzoni erotiche e mistiche.
Con quella che e` ormai una mini-orchestra folk-jazz (Toni Marcus agli
archi,
Mark Isham
alle trombe, ogni sorta di fiati e voci femminili),
l'irlandese compone complesse e mature policromie armoniche in parte
contaminate dall'honky-tonk (Bright Side Of The Road),
dal rhythm and blues commerciale (Full Force Gale e Stepping Out Queen),
dall'elegia folk (Rolling Hills e Troubadours).
Le quattro lunghe ballate della seconda facciata rappresentano uno dei picchi
"trascendentali" della sua musica.
Queste canzoni free-form ricordano i brani liberi di Buckley: la voce di
Morrison svaria su un fronte molto ampio di registri, mentre il complesso
improvvisa un tappeto sonoro fitto ma dimesso.
Il principio e` quello di tanta musica da night-club, ma Morrison ne fa
una forma severa di "soul da camera".
In Angelou cesella, sulle ali di un'intensa emotivita`, una delle sue
gemme vocali, fatta di bisbigli e lamenti innamorati che si alternano con
fluidita` cristallina.
And The Healing Begun, dall'incedere epico, mette invece in mostra il lato
piu` grintoso del suo vocalismo, capace di infondere la carica di un fervore
gospel.
Chiude il disco You Know What They Are Writing,
la ballata piu` funerea.
Da questo momento i suoi dischi non saranno mai piu` semplici raccolte di
canzoni, ma diarii spirituali in cui l'animo e` lacerato dai temi universali
della vita e della morte. La musica si fara` di pari passo
sempre piu` spericolata.
A Common One (1980), tutt'altro che radioso come il precedente, si
tuffa nel misticismo piu` rarefatto.
La sofferta e chilometrica When Heart Is Open
puo` stare al fianco dei deliri di Tim Buckley, essendo forse il suo brano
piu` tormentato e introverso.
I quindici minuti di Summertime In England sembrano una confessione
da ultimo spasimo prima della morte.
Beautiful Vision (1982) e` fin troppo pastorale negli intenti,
verboso quanto un libro di sermoni spirituali,
ma e` anche il meglio arrangiato (e jazzato)
dai tempi di Moondance.
Morrison puo` comporre a occhi chiusi ballad eleganti come
Van Lose Stairway, Beautiful Vision,
She Gives Me Religion e Dweller On The Threshold.
Inarticulate Speech Of The Heart (1983) e` forse il suo disco piu`
cerebrale di sempre, ispirato alla teosofia scientologica.
Prevalentemente strumentale,
conteso fra fusion jazz e celtic folk, si libra maestoso in Wonderful
Remark e nella cantilena gospel eponima, che ripete all'infinto il
verso-manifesto "I am a soul in wonder...".
William Blake e John Donne (Rave On John Donne)
sono i suoi poeti preferiti e vengono citati per lungo e per largo.
Sense Of Wonder (Mercury, 1984), ancora pervaso dal simbolismo visionario
dell'album precedente, ritorna alla materia prediletta dei suoi onirici
blues celtici: lo stupore appassionato di fronte ai complessi misteri
dell'animo umano e della natura. Sense Of Wonder, con contrappunti vocali
gospel e dosi di rhythm and blues alla Tupelo Honey,
incide un'altra pagina del suo sofferto diario esistenziale,
e Tore Down A La Rimbaud continua il suo pellegrinaggio fra la
poesia simbolista,
ma i numeri
piu` suggestivi sono gli strumentali (Bollyflow And Spike e Evening
Meditation), legati al folklore magico dell'antichita` celtica.
No Guru No Method No Teacher (1986), che segna un nuovo ritorno alle
sue radici celtiche, raffina la prassi di uno
spiritualismo popolare che si libra in calibrati arrangiamenti pop-jazz,
in elegie sempre piu` intense e profonde
(In The Garden), senza peraltro rinunciare alla foga rhythm and blues
(Ivory Tower).
Poetic Champions Compose (1987) spinge la sua ossessiva odissea personale
nei meandri di un misticismo panteistico attraverso un catalogo di intense
frasi folk espanse in trance emotive permanenti, incapaci di raggiungere un
climax di pathos e volte ad estinguersi lentamente nel silenzio, spesso
nella quiete bucolica (The Mystery).
Le sue liriche sempre piu` enigmatiche ne facevano ormai l'equivalente
Cristiano di un guru Tibetano.
Lo spirito trascendentale di questo periodo si
sublima
negli strumentali Spanish Steps e Celtic Excavations.
Morrison si e` allontanato all'estremo opposto delle radici "nere" da cui
ebbe origine la sua carriera, ed e` pervenuto al folk bianco della vecchia
Europa.
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