Van Morrison: Blowin' Your Mind - 1967

"He never has been, never will be anything approaching a psychedelic user – wants nothing to do with it, wants nothing to do with any drug of any kind" - Janet Planet

  

I initially became aware of Van Morrison in the mid seventies, because my friend's older sister had the Brown Eyed Girl single from 1967. I loved that, and also, as a result of David Bowie's cover of Here Comes The Night on 1973's Pin Ups, checked out Them's original version of it, which she also had. 

From then, though, he sort of passed me by as punk and new wave took over my angry young spirit, until I was walking through Piccadilly Circus one hot afternoon in the early eighties. I went into "Our Price" record shop ( I could show you where it used to be, but it is long gone now, of course) and they were playing this great song - really soulful and with a supremely evocative vocal. I asked the assistant who it was. The song was Crazy Love from Morrison's Moondance album. I duly "got into" Morrison and started exploring his back catalogue - mainly the early stuff, Moondance and His Band And The Street Choir. Then I started enjoying his more mystical material like Inarticulate Speech Of The Heart. I have been with him ever since, through his various journeys - spiritualism, Christianity, jazz, blues, soul, Caledonian soul - he has been putting out albums very year or so for decades now and I am always able to get something out of all of them. 

Many have accused him of being formulaic, particularly in his later years. I see him more as trustworthy and honest. You know what you're going to get and if you like it then you'll be fine. The same theory applies to his live performances. On stage banter is a kept to a non-existent level. Good. Just play your sublime music. 

"The Man" is, of course, a "complex" character - almost simultaneously giving and generous yet mind-bogglingly mean-spirited. He has also latterly shown himself to be a covidiot. A great quote is that you can still really like his music despite having met him. I should know, my Father was the same sort of man. The thing is, when those characters choose to give, they have so much there to enrich our lives. Van Morrison is one of those people. 

Let's walk down Cyprus Avenue then. Van Morrison's debut solo album for you here....

A lot of the material on this album is very reminiscent of the work he did with Them, particularly He Ain't Give You None, which has that blues guitar, swirling Dylanesque organ and crystal clear cymbal sound that Them utilised a lot, almost like Dylan's Blonde On Blonde "wild mercury sound". This is great track, actually, "I got messed up in a place called Notting Hill Gate..." Van tells us, as he evokes "backstreet jelly roll" for the first time. For 1967, this is a great slice of bluesy rock. Obviously influenced by Dylan, but impressive all the same.

Brown Eyed Girl had kicked off the album before that and it just stands alone as a great single, totally incongruous in the Morrison canon, of course, but nonetheless wonderful for it. 

T.B. Sheets is a menacing, morose song concerning a premature death. It rumbles industrially on for around nine minutes in a bassy, bluesy Stones-influenced way, but is very effective and very disturbing in places. "I can almost smell your T.B. sheets on your sickbed.." is not something you want to listen to for pleasure very often. Written by one so young, it is a shocking and mortally aware song. In many ways, though, it is one of the best sixties-style blues he had recorded, though. It is actually quite remarkable. 

Spanish Rose has a jaunty, Sandie Shaw-type melody, some Spanish guitar and a Latin-ish finger-popping rhythm. Goodbye Baby (Baby Goodbye) is very Rolling Stones, circa 1965-1966 influenced piece of blues pop with some impressive guitar parts. The tracks on this album have mid sixties Dylan and Rolling Stones all over them.  

 

Ro Ro Rosey is a pumping, upbeat (again Stonesy) sort of Brown Eyed Girl meets Gloria. It is another one that has many echoes of Them about it. Indeed, if you did not know, you would say it was Them. Who Drove The Red Sports Car? is a wonderful slice of early Morrison bassy, slow grinding blues. Morrison is particularly impressive on the "ad hoc" vocal improvisation at the end. 

The album ends with a harmonica-drenched cover of Midnight Special. Every now and again, Morrison plays this live, or on Jools Holland's show. It is played rockingly here, with some razor-sharp guitar. You know, I have been pleasantly surprised digging this album out again.