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Rating: You put the CD, just bought (or just pirated, it depends…), in the home stereo or, better yet, in the car stereo, and after a few tracks, you taste that sweet and sour flavor of déjà vu.
Yes, because that’s the point: Van Morrison, a giant of the song, the voice and singer-songwriting in a broad sense, has been writing the same song over and over for some years now, just like the excellent Fellini claimed to make the same film over and over. And he claimed it right, splendidly. And it’s not enough to dismiss the matter with the two extreme principles, that is, “it’s beautiful a priori” or “it sucks because he has lost his edge.”
De Chirico's paintings all looked alike. Let's not talk about those of Cascella. Already mentioned Fellini’s films… yet name me one that’s useless. Pavese's splendid books all resemble each other, as do Dan Brown's or Stephen King's enjoyable and entertaining ones. Well…? Well, there's something to consider here, especially for us, children of the seventies and eighties, eras in which it was considered an artistic/moral obligation to make "strides forward," a principle of which the greatest champion was the incomparable Battisti, always equal to himself and at the same time always incredibly different, with a devotion to being heterogeneous, never banal or repetitive, always in search of that "never said" or "not yet said." So also Bowie: think how few years separate “Tonight” from “Outside”…: from the first note you can feel it’s always the White Duke, but the products are very different from each other.
Not so, objectively, for Van Morrison. He, unique along with Waits, has had an incredible mutation/evolution of the voice, which makes, at least in my opinion, the products of the last two decades much more interesting than the previous ones. But, unlike Waits, where for one there is experimentation, for the other there is homage (to blues, country, Charles, Dylan, etc.), where for one there is provocation, for the other there is a pleasant sense of reassurance.
In short, to sum it up: being the same as yourself and always writing the same song is a crime…? Or, less seriously, is it enough to make records negligible or useless…? You’ve probably already guessed my answer is, of course, "no.” It may sound cliché to say, but the discriminating factor is “how” things are done.
Returning to the cinematic comparison, if Pieraccioni makes all comedies the same, it’s an aggravating factor, if Woody Allen does it, it is a characteristic. Because the latter is a genius of writing, of comic timing, and a fairly good master of the camera. The former is a very modest Tuscan comedian, who found success through lucky breaks, a pleasant accent, and appealing companions in a world deprived of critical sense. You might say: but you don’t talk about the album…?
If we want, we could also talk about it, but it’s quite unnecessary: in here there’s beautiful music, excellently written and wonderfully performed. There’s his ballad, his blues, his slow, funereal tune, his R&B, his screams, his repetitions, his high disregard for repetition, rhetoric and all possible criticisms. In here there is Van Morrison.
And it's no wonder that those who love him (think of those from some well-known Italian music magazines) call for a miracle every time…: because every time it’s a miracle. The miracle of a living artist, always there, present to himself and his (massive, counting us all…) audience. And for true artists – and this is my conclusion – there are no excesses of production, but joys that are renewed.
Tracklist and Lyrics
01 Stranded (05:38)
I'm stranded at the edge of the world
It's a world I don't know
Got nowhere to go
Feels like I'm stranded
And I'm stranded between that Ol devil And the deep blue sea
And nobody's gonna tell me
Tell me what, what time it is
Every day, every day
It's hustle, hustle time, hustle time
Every day and every way, one more
One more mountain to climb
It's leaving me stranded
In my own little island
With me eyes open wide
But I'm feeling stranded
Every, every
Every day it's hustle time
Every way
One more mountain to climb
I'm stranded between the devil
And the deep blue sea
There ain't nowhere else to be
'Cept right here and I'm stranded
11 They Sold Me Out (03:13)
Sold me out for a few shekles and devided up my robes.
they sold me out.
its the oldest story thats ever been told.
they sold me out.
didnt even give it no shred or doubt,no,no
they sold me out.
didnt even sit down and try to figure it out.
they sold me out.
for a few shekles more they didnt even think twice.
for a few shekles more, another minute in the spot light.
my own people did it to me just cause they could.
they sold me out.
so beware brother it could happen to you.
they sold me out.
for a few shekles more they didnt even think twice.
just for a few shekles more, another moment in the spot light.
my own people did it to me,just cause they could.
they sold me out.
got to beware brother it just might happen to you.
they sold me out.
its the oldest story thats ever been told.
they sold me out.
sold me out for a few shekles and devided up my robes.
they sold me out.
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