Van Morrison
It's Too Late To Stop Now

THE REVIEW

If the greatest song penned by Van Morrison is "Caravan" and the man's best album is "It's Too Late To Stop Now," then the best version of "Caravan" is the one found in "It's Too Late To Stop Now."

Roughly, that's how Nick Hornby theorizes in "31 Songs," coming to designate that very "Caravan" as the accompaniment for his departure from this vale of tears.

It’s a matter of perspective...

Not only because I've made a different choice for my funeral but also because, in my very personal notebook, under Van Morrison, more than "It's Too Late To Stop Now," "Astral Weeks" and "Moondance" (and also "Tupelo Honey") stand out.

Then again, that "It's Too Late To Stop Now" is a great album is another story.

Celebratory live, in absolute terms, this double vinyl comes as a crowning and closing of Van Morrison's golden period, meaning the one after he left the Them and flew to the United States to delight us within the short span of five years with "Astral Weeks," "Moondance," "Tupelo Honey," and "Saint Dominic's Preview." Stuff that only the Bob Dylan from "The Freewheelin'" to "Blonde On Blonde" has achieved anything remotely comparable.

So, what does "It's Too Late To Stop Now" lack to ascend to the rank of Van The Man's best album?

It lacks what Our Man lavishly pours out in "Astral Weeks" and "Moondance," which I can't define, but I believe it's a matter of atmosphere, of deep contemplation and carefree gaiety, the kind that makes the studio version of "Caravan" better than the live version, whatever the good Nick says, and the same goes for "These Dreams Of You," for "Into The Mystic," for "Domino" and for almost the rest of the program, except for "Saint Dominic's Preview," because the version here is something sensational, overshadowing even the one on the eponymous studio album.

And if perhaps it's not a matter of atmosphere, maybe it's because "It's Too Late To Stop Now" is simply "too much" in every sense: maybe it's that Van is too excited and passionate, he is too showy and aware of his immense talent and, at any cost, he wants to share it all with the lucky audiences attending the tour in the summer of 1973 and with the whole world that buys the double vinyl first and the double CD later.

Look how he preens in "Bring It On Home To Me" (Sam Cooke, who?) or in "Listen To The Lion" (how great is this track) and especially in the concluding "Cyprus Avenue" (speaking of showmanship, here at its extreme, for ten minutes of pure ecstasy).

Wonderful, so wonderful as to make ordinary mortals like me uncomfortable, who only manage to partially comprehend the greatness of a Van Morrison.

Paradoxically, it turns out that the most enjoyable moments are those when he tackles his "lesser" repertoire, basically the entire first record, among beautiful originals rendered with vigor and freshness by the eleven members of the Caledonia Soul Orchestra and covers hovering between soul and blues, from Ray Charles to Willie Dixon, passing through Sonny Boy Williamson.

From the mighty pace of "Ain't Nothing You Can Do," "I've Been Working," and "Help Me" to the slow and sorrowful one of "I Believe To My Soul" and "I Just Want To Make Love To You"; from the strings accompanying a chilling "Into The Mystic" to the joyful frenzy that shakes "These Dreams Of You" and the dressing of previously unknown rhythms; and then "Warm Love," and again "Domino."

Above all, stronger than everything, Van's voice narrating joy and pain, smiles and tears, of sunny California and green Ireland, like no one else can do, neither then nor now. And here everything is wonderful, without causing discomfort but only wonder at how a voice and seven notes can create enchantment.

That same voice, in the splendid, transfigured finale of "Cyprus Avenue" screams that it's too late to stop, leaves with Van's body and leaves room for the indescribable triumph of the horns.

And personally, I can't fathom how Van Morrison managed to do better than "It's Too Late To Stop Now."