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Rating:
Elusive as the unconscious, indefinable as a free-associating stream of thoughts. As Lucio Dalla used to say, "The thought, like the Ocean, cannot be blocked, cannot be fenced...", and therefore cannot be cataloged.
Van Morrison is a volcano of pure sensations, goes straight to the soul, escapes any classification. He is Irish, but until the '80s he never made profitable use of the mysterious and fascinating "Celtic color". However, when he decides to use it, he does it masterfully. His music seems rather built on solid blues pillars, but with such a personal interpretation of this genre that it completely disrupts the meter and canons, arriving at an almost total anarchy, a contamination with jazz, folk, and even classical elements.
Some, for his visionary lyrics, have evoked ancient Irish poets and others, some have seen him as the heir of the legendary Celtic bard. To me, this word brings to mind poor Assurancetourix, the official bard of Asterix's Gallic village, who, every time he tries to strum something, gets regularly gagged. Nothing could be further from Van Morrison, who is impeccably accompanied by rock-solid instrumentalists, generally from jazz, and uses his sharp baritone voice very flexibly, alternating confidential whispers with the mournful tones of blues, with frequent and sudden surges that leave listeners astounded.
After a brief apprenticeship period, shuttling between his native Belfast and the USA, with his second effort he releases "Astral Weeks," the progenitor of a long series of masterpieces, recorded in two days in 1968, yet a miracle of instrumental perfection. The title track, at the beginning, already offers a perfect example of the structure of "Van the Man's" irregular blues: it proceeds in stops and starts, without verses or choruses, through continuous additions of sensations suggested by the lyrics and drawn by the music, with the progressive entrance of acoustic guitar, flute, and violin to duet with the lean rhythmic base. When it fades out, we're already in a trance and hardly realize that 7 minutes have flown by. The same sensation is given by the two long ballads that dominate the second part: "Madame George" and "Ballerina." Their themes seem monotonous, but they hypnotize and enchant: in the former, the poignant and somewhat Cohen-like dialogue between acoustic guitar and violin is enhanced by a flute that seems to wander into free spaces; in the latter, a vague image of a woman worthy of Dylan's female icons, the attraction is due to the almost constant punctuating of a typically jazz vibraphone. Another jewel is the long "Cyprus Avenue": here, the task of capturing us is carried out by an unusual harpsichord, which starts with simple triplets, increasingly dense, to an accompaniment of baroque richness, as befits this instrument, typical of seventeenth-eighteenth-century music.
The deepest journey into the unconscious is "Beside You," a real vortex created by the clear notes of the acoustic guitar, the magical plays of a snake charmer's flute, and Van Morrison's desperate vocalizations, drawing us ever deeper into the depths of human sorrow. You cry and you enjoy. The tension is barely broken by two more naive episodes, more '60s, yet still rich with preciousness: "Sweet Thing" and "The Way Young Lovers Do"; particularly the latter flaunts brilliant soul horns.
Another brief gem closes the album: "Slim Slow Slider." The voice seems lost in an unreal void, gradually filled by the arabesques of a splendid flute, once again a great protagonist. The somewhat abrupt closure of this last magic leaves us speechless, with a fierce desire to listen to this sublime album again.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
01 Astral Weeks (07:06)
If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dream
Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
From the far side of the ocean
If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me
And I'm pushin' on the door
Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
There you go
Standin' with the look of avarice
Talkin' to Huddie Ledbetter
Showin' pictures on the wall
Whisperin' in the hall
And pointin' a finger at me
There you go, there you go
Standin' in the sun darlin'
With your arms behind you
And your eyes before
There you go
Takin' good care of your boy
Seein' that he's got clean clothes
Puttin' on his little red shoes
I see you know he's got clean clothes
A-puttin' on his little red shoes
A-pointin' a finger at me
And here I am
Standing in your sad arrest
Trying to do my very best
Lookin' straight at you
Comin' through, darlin'
Yeah, yeah, yeah
If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams
Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me
Would you kiss-a my eyes
Lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again
To be born again
To be born again
In another world
In another world
In another time
Got a home on high
Ain't nothing but a stranger in this world
I'm nothing but a stranger in this world
I got a home on high
In another land
So far away
So far away
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
In another time
In another place
In another time
In another place
Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven
We are goin' up to heaven
We are goin' to heaven
In another time
In another place
In another time
In another place
In another face
02 Beside You (05:17)
Little Jimmy's gone way out of the back street,
Out of the window, into the falling rain,
Right on time, right on time.
That's why Broken Arrow waved his finger,
Down the road, so dark and narrow,
In the evening, just before the Sunday six-bells chime, six-bells chime
And All the dogs are barkin' way down on the garbage studded highway
Where you wander and you roam from your retreated view,
Way over on the railroad,
Tomorrow all the tipping trucks will unload together
Everywhere the scrapbooks built together stuck with glue
And I'll stand beside you, beside you,
Oh child, to never wonder why
To never, never, never, never wonder why at all
To never, never, never, never wonder why
It's gotta be, it has to be
Way across the country where the hillside mountains glide
The dynamo of your smile caressed the barefoot virgin child
To wander past your window in the lantern lit
You held it in the doorway and you cast against the pointed idle breeze
You said your time was open go well on your merry way
Past the praise and footlits of the silence easy
You breathe in, you breathe out
You breathe in, you breathe out
You breathe in, you breathe out
You breathe in, you breathe out
And you're high on a high-flying cloud
Wrapped up in your magic shroud, ecstasy surrounds you
This time it's found you
You turn around
You turn around
You turn around
You turn around
And I'm beside you
Beside you
Oh, darlin'
To never, never wonder why at all,
No, no, no, no, no,
To never, never, never, wonder why at all
To never, never, never, wonder why it's gotta be
It has to be
And I'm beside you
Beside you
Oh, child
To never, never, never, wonder why at all
I'm beside you
Beside you
Beside you
Beside you
Oh, child
03 Sweet Thing (04:25)
I will stroll the merry way
And jump the hedges first
And drink the clear
Clean waterfall to quench my thirst
And I shall watch the ferry-boats and they'll get high
On a bluer ocean
Against tomorrow's sky
And I will never grow so old again.
And I will walk and talk
In garden's all wet with rain.
Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
Oh my, my, my sweet thing.
And I shall drive my chariot
down you streets and cry
'hey its me, I'm dynamite and I don't know why'.
And you shall take me strongly in your arms again.
And I will not remember that I ever felt the pain.
We shall walk and talk
in gardens all misty wet with rain.
And I will never, never, never grow so old again.
Oh sweet thing, sweet thing.
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing.
And I will raise my hand up
into the night cloud's sky.
And count the stars shining in your eye.
Just to dig it all an' not to wonder that's just fine.
And I wil be satisfied
Not to read in between the lines.
And I will walk and talk in gardens all wet with rain.
And I will never ever, ever grow so old again.
Oh sweet thing. Oh sugar baby
Sugar baby, sugar baby, sugar baby.
With your champagne eyes
And your saint-like smile.
06 Madame George (09:45)
Down on Cyprus Avenue
With a childlike vision leaping into view
Clicking, clacking of the high heeled shoe
Ford & Fitzroy, Madame George
Marching with the soldier boy behind
He's much older with hat on drinking wine
And that smell of sweet perfume comes drifting through
The cool night air like Shalimar
And outside they're making all the stops
The kids out in the street collecting bottle-tops
Gone for cigarettes and matches in the shops
Happy taken Madame George
That's when you fall
Whoa, that's when you fall
Yeah, that's when you fall
When you fall into a trance
A sitting on a sofa playing games of chance
With your folded arms and history books you glance
Into the eyes of Madame George
And you think you found the bag
You're getting weaker and your knees begin to sag
In the corner playing dominoes in drag
The one and only Madame George
And then from outside the frosty window raps
She jumps up and says Lord have mercy I think it's the cops
And immediately drops everything she gots
Down into the street below
And you know you gotta go
On that train from Dublin up to Sandy Row
Throwing pennies at the bridges down below
And the rain, hail, sleet, and snow
Say goodbye to Madame George
Dry your eye for Madame George
Wonder why for Madame George
And as you leave, the room is filled with music, laughing, music,
dancing, music all around the room
And all the little boys come around, walking away from it all
So cold
And as you're about to leave
She jumps up and says Hey love, you forgot your gloves
And the gloves to love to love the gloves...
To say goodbye to Madame George
Dry your eye for Madame George
Wonder why for Madame George
Dry your eyes for Madame George
Say goodbye in the wind and the rain on the back street
In the backstreet, in the back street
Say goodbye to Madame George
In the backstreet, in the back street, in the back street
Down home, down home in the back street
Gotta go
Say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
Dry your eye your eye your eye your eye your eye...
Say goodbye to Madame George
And the loves to love to love the love
Say goodbye
Oooooo
Mmmmmmm
Say goodbye goodbye goodbye goodbye to Madame George
Dry your eye for Madame George
Wonder why for Madame George
The love's to love the love's to love the love's to love...
Say goodbye, goodbye
Get on the train
Get on the train, the train, the train...
This is the train, this is the train...
Whoa, say goodbye, goodbye....
Get on the train, get on the train...
07 Ballerina (07:03)
Spread your wings
Come on fly awhile
Straight to my arms
Little angel child
You know you only
Lonely twenty-two story block
And if somebody, not just anybody
Wanted to get close to you
For instance, me, baby
All you gotta do
Is ring a bell
Step right up, step right up
And step right up
Ballerina
Crowd will catch you
Fly it, sigh it, try it
Well, I may be wrong
But something deep in my heart tells me I'm right and I don't think so
You know I saw the writing on the wall
When you came up to me
Child, you were heading for a fall
But if it gets to you
And you feel like you just can't go on
All you gotta do
Is ring a bell
Step right up, and step right up
And step right up
Just like a ballerina
Stepping lightly
Alright, well it's getting late
Yes it is, yes it is
And this time I forget to slip into your slumber
The light is on the left side of your head
And I'm standing in your doorway
And I'm mumbling and I can't remember the last thing that ran through my head
Here come the man and he say, he say the show must go on
So all you gotta do
Is ring the bell
And step right up, and step right up
And step right up
Just like a ballerina, yeah, yeah
Crowd will catch you
Fly it, sight it, c'mon, die it, yeah
Just like a ballerina
Just like a just like a just like a ballerina
Get on up, get on up, keep a-moving on, little bit higher, baby
You know, you know, you know, get up baby
Alright, a-keep on, a-keep on, a-keep on, a-keep on pushing
Stepping lightly
Just like a ballerina
Ooo-we baby, take off your shoes
Working on
Just like a ballerina
08 Slim Slow Slider (03:17)
Slim slow slider
Horse you ride
White as snow
Slim slow slider
Horse you ride
Is white as snow
Tell it everywhere you go
Saw you walking
Down by Ladbroke Grove this morning
Saw you walking
Down by Ladbroke Grove this morning
Catching pebbles for some sandy beach
You're out of reach
Saw you early this morning
With your brand new boy and your Cadillac
Saw you early this morning
With your brand new boy and your Cadillac
You're gone for something
And I know you won't be back
I know you're dying, baby
And I know you know it, too
I know you're dying
And I know you know it, too
Everytime I see you
I just don't know what to do
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Other reviews
By Neu!_Cannas
This record is of a grandeur unparalleled in music itself, it never had and never will have.
Pain is in everything, even if it’s in less visible forms, sometimes it’s even possible to confuse it with a good feeling.
By tonysoprano
Astral Weeks is a bittersweet arrow that lodges in our weak and sensitive human hearts.
The first time I heard that unforgettable acoustic guitar sound, I burst into tears: unthinkable that a man could move me in just 30 seconds.
