Van Morrison Albums (38)
What The Critics Say
Keep It Simple is a mantra for Van Morrison, as he stripped his music down to the bare basics years ago and then comfortably rode that groove, comprised in equal parts of blues, soul, jazz, and country. Van has been riding this groove so long that it's hard to pinpoint exactly when he settled into it, but looking back, things started to shift in the mid-'90s, as understated R&B rhythms took precedence and he started to punctuate them with country songs (or in the case of Pay the Devil, an entire LP of country tunes). Despite his new label Lost Highway's insistence that the fact this is his first album of all-original material since 1999's Back on Top, Keep It Simple doesn't feel all that different than the records since 1999, either in its feel or in structure, nor does it help that Van's songs play with older tunes, both in their lyrics and their very titles ("That's Entrainment," of course, but "Don't Go to Nightclubs" is a winning spin on "Don't Get Around Much Anymore"). Familiarity can breed contempt -- and there's no denying that there is no figure as stubborn in popular music than Van Morrison, so it'd be easy for the cynical to assume that his refusal to change is a mere spiteful act, just as it would be easy for some listeners to think all his albums sound the same, because they kind of do -- but familiarity can also deepen the music, which is the case with Morrison. This is lived-in, soulful music, the kind that can only be made after years of playing the classics, and if that doesn't quite make for a compelling album, it does make for a comforting one. It's as easy to slip into this album as it is a warm bath, as Van's cantankerous rumblings only surface (quite slyly) on the closing "Behind the Ritual," where he scats "blah blah blah" on the corner, suggesting that whatever he's singing doesn't really matter -- and, in a way, he may be right, as the lyrics, the songs even, don't matter as much as the overall sound on Keep It Simple, which is as pure a groove album as he's ever made. There are no surprises, but when you do something this well, there doesn't need to be. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Pay the Devil, an album-long foray into country music, shouldn't come as a surprise to Van Morrison fans. It's a logical extension of his love affair with American music. Certainly blues, R&B, soul, and jazz have been at the forefront, but one can go all the way back to the Bang years and find "Joe Harper Saturday Morning," or songs on Tupelo Honey that touch country. More recently, You Win Again, with Linda Gail Lewis, offered two Hank Williams tunes and "Crazy Arms." The Skiffle Sessions with Lonnie Donegan offered traditional Southern tunes including Jimmie Rodgers' "Mule Skinner Blues." Morrison's lyrics have also referenced country music blatantly. Pay the Devil comes from direct sources of inspiration: his father's skiffle band and Ray Charles' historic forays into country on the two volumes of Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music in 1962. The evidence lies in three cuts on this disc, all of which Charles recorded: Curley Williams' "Half as Much," Art Harris and Fred Jay's "What Am I Livin' For," and Hank Williams' "Your Cheatin' Heart." Morrison's a cagey one: his own mercurial versions of these nuggets are more traditional than those of Charles, yet are steeped in similar production styles that offer a clear nod to the late artist. While there are no horns on Pay the Devil, the layers of strings on top of "fiddles" and honky tonk pianos -- as well as earlier pedal steel styles -- are giveaways. And then there is the voice. Like Charles, Morrison is a soul singer no matter what he sings and he digs into these tomes with fire and the uncommon sweetness of tone and limited timbre that Charles did. But Morrison re-creates these tunes in his own image too. Recorded in Belfast with his own band, Pay the Devil flows seamlessly from start to finish over 15 cuts. It opens with a killer read of "There Stands the Glass," which is brave considering it's synonymous with Webb Pierce (one of two here -- the other is "More and More"). It's drenched in pedal steel, electric guitar, and a pair of basses. The fiddle floats just above the upright piano and a swell of strings in the bridge. It drips with a swaggering loneliness and gets the full weepy treatment with Geraint Watkins' piano solo. "Things Have Gone to Pieces," written by Leon Payne, is full of wasted self-pity and honky tonk desolation. Once more it's a daring move given how closely associated the song is with George Jones. In the grain of his lionhearted voice, Morrison tears it back to its essence as a country-blues song. Morrison outdoes himself on Clarence Williams' "My Bucket's Got a Hole in It," turning it into a rockabilly shuffle. Billy Wallace's "Back Street Affair" is full of barroom soul. Bill Anderson's "Once a Day" is given the full '60s countrypolitain treatment here, with strings and a full backing chorus that could almost be the Anita Kerr Singers. "What Am I Living For" is a tune closely associated with Conway Twitty in his prime. Morrison's version touches on the original but brings it home to Belfast. In addition to the classics, there are three originals here as well. There's the rollicking hillbilly blues of "Playhouse" that growl like the young Conway Twitty and Johnny Horton did. Then comes the misleading title track. Unable to let his discontent stay out of his records, Morrison once again assails those who would pigeonhole his music, to the tune of a laid-back, shuffling country stroll. "This Has Got to Stop" is the finest of the three. It's proof that Morrison can write a solid, traditional honky tonk song worthy of a Jones, or a Don Gibson. His vocal digs into the lyrics and sets it in the blanket of the deceptively loose barroom-styled accompaniment. The set closes with a deeply emotional read of Rodney Crowell's "Till I Gain Control Again." Paul Godden's lonesome dobro is the engine that guides it emotionally. Bob Loveday's violins add painterly touches to the Watkins piano in the foreground and the guitars fill the rest. Godden's pedal steel pleads the country tradition, but Morrison's singing is so full of sadness, ache, and regret that it actually closes the gap between it and soul music as the record whispers to a shimmering, whispering close. Pay the Devil is at the crossroads of country, blues, and soul. In his voice is the authority to bring them together. No matter how restless and inconsistent he can be because of his obsession with perfection, Morrison is capable of being inspired enough to let his muse guide him toward something approaching greatness. Pay the Devil is proof . ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
'Live at Austin City Limits'
Release Date 1/1/2006
Tracks 19
Label Exile
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What The Critics Say
Magic Time is one of those rare, intermittent Van Morrison records that consciously offers a bird's eye view of everywhere he's been musically and weaves it all together into a heady brew. The last one was The Healing Game in 1997. He's made fine records since (Down the Road, Back on Top), but they've been focused on whatever Muse was pulling his coattails at the time. Magic Time is restless and freewheeling. Lyrically, it's alternately bittersweet, celebratory, and ornery. Like all of his records, notions of the past haunt these songs like familiar specters making sure they are not forgotten. Here, Celtic soul, gritty blues, fingerpopping swing, R&B, and classic pop all jockey for dominance over ten originals and three covers. Morrison's sequencing keeps them balanced and the proceedings sharp. "Stranded" has a gorgeous faux doo wop lilt, and an elegant, timeless piano that cascades from the ether as a nocturnal alto saxophone (Morrison) announces a stolid yet world-weary vocal that unhurriedly moves along to a backing chorus. One can hear traces of the Platters' "Twilight Time" and the Penguins' "Earth Angel" in its grain. "Celtic New Year" is trademark Morrison; the long, loping, repetitive line that is his trademark fuels this one. It's carried by the interplay between Morrison's acoustic and the late Foggy Lyttle's electric guitar fills, and aided by Chieftain Paddy Moloney's whistle. A moving yet unobtrusive string arrangement by Fiachra Trench lifts this tale of separation and longing into the large space inhabited by Morrison's voice. Through his lyrical frame, he reaches that place in the heart that whispers of longings so deep they lie beyond the reach of language. The scene changes on track three as the blues make their entrance on "Keep Mediocrity at Bay" (with some fine harp work by Morrison), and the wondrously gritty "Evening Train." On the latter, it's Lyttle's guitar (the album is dedicated to him) and David Hayes' whomping bass that drive the engine, with Morrison and horns punching up into the maelstrom. Lyttle's knotty razored fills push Morrison's roaring vocal on to the ledge. The covers all come from the American jazz canon: Fats Waller's "Lonely and Blue," and two tunes associated with Frank Sinatra -- "I'm Confessin'" and "This Love of Mine" (with lyrics by him!). These tunes are beautifully placed in the album's mix and Morrison's readings are serious, very credible. While "Just Like Greta" is yet another Morrison litany to be left alone, its seductive melody draws the listener deep in with its shimmering organ, pronounced hypnotic line, mournful strings, and a chorus of female voices that add a softer dimension to its edgy intent. "Gypsy in My Soul" is pure, nocturnal velvet funk with great piano work by Brian Connor. The acoustic "The Lion This Time" is one of the finest ballads Morrison has cut in decades. Period. "Carry On Regardless," is a stinging, jagged reggae-touched blues that sends the proceeding out in near riotous joy. Magic Time may look back over decades, but it's far from nostalgic. It connects the musical past to Morrison's present and points to a future in the timelessness of great musical tradition. And it displays in spades that its creator never stops looking for new ways to go deeper into the heart of song. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
'What's Wrong with This Picture?'
Release Date 9/15/2003
Tracks 13
Label EMI
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What The Critics Say
While 2002's Down the Road was the best Van Morrison release in ages -- with its autobiographical allusions, cultural critiques, and new band -- it could not have prepared listeners for the jolt of this, his Blue Note Records debut What's Wrong With This Picture? While the album is hardly a straight jazz record, it does take the territory he explored on Down the Road another step further into the classic pop music of the 20th century filtered through his own Celtic swing, R&B, vocal jazz, and blue-eyed soul. The title track that opens the album is as close to an anthem as Morrison's ever written; he states with an easy, swinging, jazzy soul groove that he is not the same person he once was and wonders why that was so difficult for others to accept. There is no bitterness or bite in his assertions. If anything, the question is asked with warm humor and amusement as if it is indeed the listener's hangup if he/she can't accept Morrison "living in the present time." He asks, "Why don't we take it down and forget about it/'Cause that ain't me at all," as the song whispers to a close. Morrison's employment of a large horn section -- actually a pair of them as the disc was recorded in different sessions -- is full of teeth and big, bad soul. "Whinin Boy Moan" is a direct cue from Mose Allison as read by Big Joe Turner. Hard-swinging R&B horn lines (including his own alto saxophone) combine with killer solos by tenorman Martin Winning and trumpet boss Matt Holland as Morrison does his most inspired blues shouting since Wavelength. Celtic soul is never far behind, either, as it displays itself on the stunningly beautiful "Evening in June." The way Morrison employs brass, woodwind, and reed textures is unique for him as clarinets, alto and bass, flügelhorns, and loads of saxophones gradually build as the emotion in a tune imparts itself. Acker Bilk makes a return appearance here co-writing and performing on the elegant, bluesy swing of "Somerset." Other than this collaboration and stellar covers of "St James Infirmary" and Lightnin' Hopkins' "Stop Drinking" -- the most unique and timely interpretation of the nugget since Louis Armstrong's, and it contains the greatest horn solo interplay on any Morrison record ever -- Morrison's songwriting is more expansive, more intricate, and more luxuriant in its use of grooves, vamps, and riffs as they intertwine with beautiful horn charts, sophisticated melodies ,and the always-present blues feel. There are 13 tracks here, and virtually all of them would be standouts on any of his other records. But the aforementioned tracks, along with "Meaning of Loneliness" and "Once in a Blue Moon," are among the finest tunes he's ever written, let alone recorded. This is the sound of an artist who is comfortable making a break with his past because it is not a break; he understands it as the next part of a continuum that goes deeper and wider than anyone else ever expected. This is the sound of self-assurance as it articulates itself with grace and aplomb. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
After spending much of the 1990s expressing his bitterness with the modern world in albums like Hymns to the Silence and Days Like This, Van Morrison sought to overcome his bile toward the end of the decade, declaring himself Back on Top by 1999. (His fans concurred; the album was his highest-charting effort in more than 20 years and earned a gold record.) He then took an uncharacteristically long three years to make a new original album, though he produced two side projects, the live Skiffle Sessions: Live in Belfast 1998 and You Win Again, a duet record with Linda Gail Lewis, in between. Down the Road is not bitter, but it does look to the past continually and with longing. Musically, it mixes R&B and jazz with bits of country (especially on "What Makes the Irish Heart Beat") and folk, all conjured from the singer's 1950s youth. Lyrically, it deliberately makes use of blues clichés and catch phrases to tell its tales of struggle, recollection, and regret. The album cover depicts the front of a record store, Music and Memorabilia, with a window full of LP covers by blues, R&B, jazz, and old rock & roll artists, and the music inside corresponds to that picture, in spirit if not always in style. A key song, and a curious one, is "Whatever Happened to PJ Proby?," in which Morrison identifies himself with trendy British pop singers of the early '60s, including Scott Walker and Screaming Lord Sutch. It's hard to imagine that he really thinks he belongs in their company, but he seems both sincere and pained as he concludes, "And whatever happened to me?" If such humility is sincere, it may help explain why Morrison has rejected the trappings of fame all these years, and it makes him all the more endearing. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Van Morrison has always been eccentric, but as he grows older, he seems to get more comfortable with his eccentricities and doesn't strain as hard to be distinctive. That's why it seems natural to have two albums in one year be as willfully individual as The Skiffle Sessions and You Win Again, a duet album with Linda Gail Lewis. In all honesty, in 2000, nobody but Jerry Lee Lewis fanatics really remembered that his sister Linda Gail is a talent in her own right, but Morrison had a soft spot for her and decided to record a full album with her. It's a modest affair, sporting only one Morrison original ("No Way Pedro") and relying heavily on Jerry Lee's catalog, opening with four songs inextricably associated with his Sun recordings. But, if this is a tribute album, it's only because this music is in the same spirit as those great recordings. Not everything here is associated with Jerry Lee, but Linda Gail's piano is reminiscent of her sibling, and both she and Morrison have the same fearless spirit as the Killer, easily making these songs fit their voices and blur the distinctions between R&B, blues, country, and rock & roll. Best of all, this is never a conscious decision; they're just pounding out a bunch of songs they love. You Win Again sounds like it was knocked off in one afternoon by a bar band that knows each other so well, they can anticipate each other's next move. It wasn't, of course, but that's the highest compliment it can be paid. No, it's not a major work in Van's catalog, but it's hard not to smile when listening to it, just like The Skiffle Sessions. It's a roots effort that never sounds studied -- just easy, welcoming, and thoroughly enjoyable. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
'The Skiffle Sessions: Live in Belfast 1998'
Release Date 1/18/2000
Tracks 15
Label Pointblank
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What The Critics Say
Van Morrison probably chose to give a pair of skiffle concerts in November, 1998 not because he was nostalgic, but because he has genuine love for this music. At least, that's the impression The Skiffle Sessions gives. It's a cheerfully old-fashioned yet curiously fresh album. By skipping "Rock Island Line," the style's best-known tune, and emphasizing the music's foundation in American folk, blues, and jazz, they wind up revitalizing skiffle while paying homage to it. Yes, this may be corny at times, yet it's a clever, diverse record. They delve into blues, letting Barber have a Dixieland trombone solo on "Frankie and Johnny," invite Dr. John to play some New Orleans on "Goin' Home" and "Good Morning Blues," haul out Jimmie Rodgers' "Muleskinner Blues" and Leadbelly's "Goodnight Irene," paying tribute to both country and folk. Only "Don't You Rock Me Daddio" fits the clichés of skiffle, and here it's only one side of a rich, generous collection of roots music. Some might say that this multifaceted approach to skiffle is revisionism, but it isn't; skiffle itself was a hybrid, drawing from all sorts of American roots music but given an endearing twist by idealist British musicians, who loved the American myth as much as the music. The Skiffle Sessions captures this love of myth and music, while being a hell of a good listen. Morrison's career has been idiosyncratic and unpredictable, but nothing has been quite as surprising as this. Really, there's no reason why a skiffle album released in 2000 should be as irresistible as this, but Morrison, Donegan, and Barber bring such heart and love to this music that it's hard not to be charmed. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
After so many songs ranging through so many styles, it is a pleasure to have Van Morrison return to the music that suits him so well. Steeped in blues and R&B, Back on Top finds Morrison celebrating life and its pleasures to the limit. The up-tempo "New Biography" takes a sharp stab at those who say they know him just so they can see their names in print. "Golden Autumn Day" is a near perfect summation of his music up to today and provides a rare glimpse into his personal life as well. On this and other cuts, Morrison sounds like he's taken a lesson or two from tourmate Bob Dylan, and there's a thread that runs from Dylan's recent work right on through to this one. "Goin' Down Geneva" is a great blues cut, while "In the Midnight" is bedroom music, pure and simple. "Back on Top," the title track, swings along with such ease that you're tempted to check and make sure you didn't put in Moondance by mistake. The meditative "When the Leaves Come Falling Down" even will remind one of Morrison's meditations on Astral Weeks. No matter which track you pick, there's not a weak cut here. ~ James Chrispell, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Van Morrison's 23rd studio album of original material in 30 years follows two jazz-oriented side projects, during which he was able to indulge his affection for the works of others, especially those of Mose Allison. Returning to his own work, Morrison seems to want to come to terms with the bitterness sometimes expressed in more recent original albums like Too Long in Exile and Days Like This. That bitterness has not dissipated by any means, as he demonstrates most clearly in "This Weight" and "It Once Was My Life," but now he is at pains to make clear that he became a musician because of a pure, simple joy in music-making. But that joy has been reduced by the demands of celebrity, and if this makes him the Greta Garbo of rock, so be it. When he isn't complaining, Morrison presents the same kind of material he has been giving us for decades now, midtempo tunes paced by warm, graceful horn charts in which he evokes passion and spirituality largely through the use of nature imagery and rhythmic repetition. In his attempt to get back to his original inspiration, however, he gives "It Once Was My Life" and especially "If You Love Me" a doo wop sound, which seems to achieve the desired effect, such that in the album-closing title track he declares success: "Here I am again/Back on the corner again/Back where I belong." And with his return to "those ancient streets," his career comes full circle. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
