Van Morrison - Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl [Album]
 

Let me be straight with you here – prior to requesting this review, I had never listened to or even come into contact with Astral Weeks. Chances are that, if you’d mentioned it to me in the past, I’d have thought you were talking about a West Indian cricketer from the 1940s. I hope that this fact does not prompt much wailing and gnashing of teeth from those who would prefer this review to be in the hands of a dyed-in-the-wool fan. It was up for grabs and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to acquaint myself with an album that, by most accounts, deserves the utmost attention. Besides, if you want some flowery prose about how marvelous it all is, then the internet is absolutely choc-full of it.

I first learned of Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks a few months ago when discussing Love’s Forever Changes with a friend. The conversation - ok, it was over Facebook, what of it? - turned to Julian Cope’s wonderful comments about meeting a journalist who reviewed a reissue of the album and gave it 8/10. “Were it an ancient text or a document,” wrote Cope, “it would be hidden from view and spoken of in obscure circles. But, because it operates through the medium of Pop Music, it gets tarts like said journalist giving it 8/10.”

As an example of how to write about a classic album, aforementioned friend linked me to Lester Bangs’ 1978 (10 years after its actual release) review of Astral Weeks*. You might notice that he describes it as, in no uncertain terms, “a mystical document”. And I’m delighted to report – for me more than anyone – that it’s astonishing. Especially as, like many unenlightened souls, all I had known previously was Brown Eyed Girl.

From the perspective of a guy in his early-to-mid-20s, looking backwards through time, I guess the closest comparison I could make would be In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel. That is, in terms of its makeup of structurally simple acoustic songs, sitting underneath a thick layer of natural colour (provided here by flutes, shimmering strings and xylophones, amongst a cast of many), all framing an arresting primal voice roaring lyrics that leave you helplessly still and feeling like all your innards are being clenched by velvet gloves. Not to mention the constant presence of a double bass so brimming with character that it sounds like it developed a personality and is playing itself.

These are some long sentences from someone who has listened to it less than five times, but the baptism is just as valid a stage of appreciation as any other. Not unlike visiting a beautiful town you’ve never been to and being dazzled by the newness of it all, before eventually finding your way around and getting to know where the best coffee is and what all of those strange road signs mean. I’ll probably read this back in years to come and laugh at how insufficient – nay, daft – this all is, but teetering on the brink of an album that you know will change your life in some way…it’s a buzz that never diminishes. And, in the age of MySpace and I-Pod shuffle functions, it’s a timely reminder of the fine art of creating a long-playing aural parallel universe.

So, what of Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl? Well, that great voice isn’t quite all there any more, and the running order isn’t entirely true to the original, but it would be churlish to quibble. No-one should buy it before first falling in love with the original studio album – after all, is it possible to judge Forever Changes Live or Pet Sounds Live on their own merits, given that they are merely echoes of respective musical big bangs? Well, yes it is, but mostly only in terms of “doesn’t he still sound fantastic for his age?”

It’s a shame that Astral Weeks operates through the medium of pop music. Because of that, you get kids like me rambling about it semi-coherently. I’m falling in love with it, though, and all I can do is give you my word that you will too.

[* you can read this here - http://personal.cis.strath.ac.uk/~murray/astral.html ]