Showing posts with label Astral Weeks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Astral Weeks. Show all posts

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Here Come the Man!


Last week I finally got to see Van Morrison perform Astral Weeks live, after almost a year of waiting.

Van played the Hollywood Bowl last year, performing his legendary album in its entirety, and I thought hard about heading out there to see it, but the high costs of traveling out to California deferred this dream.

He put out a live album from the performance, and eventually a DVD, which I figured would have to suffice. The concert was such a success that Morrison added more dates, in New York and London, and then he added more, but Chicago never showed up on any of the tour announcements.

The Chicago date was finally added while I was in Ireland, of all places, but fate conspired against me yet again and no tickets were gotten. Time to press play on the DVD player again.

Then they opened up a few final tickets and I headed to Ticketmaster. Pit seats, going for an insane amount of money. And I bought one. One, because that's all you could get. Duder tried getting one himself, but they were all snatched up.

And so I found myself about twenty feet from Van's gold microphone last Tuesday at the Chicago Theatre.

No opening act, no delayed start. Van comes out precisely on time, and plays a tight set of about 100 minutes, with no encore. He never interacts with the audience, letting the music speak for itself.

First half of the show is a warm-up, consisting of other songs from his career. It would be easy to make this the "hits" portion of his show, considering how unknown Astral Weeks really is to the average fan. He'll throw in the "Brown Eyed Girl" and "Gloria" to keep these people satisfied, but most of the songs in the first half were the deep cuts, semi-obscure numbers that didn't get (most) people singing along, but instead served as companion pieces to the Astral Weeks numbers.

"Fair Play", "Little Village", and "In the Garden" set the tone for what was to come, and despite a few annoying people who chose to talk half the time (except, of course, when he played a quick and perfunctory "Have I Told You Lately"), it was a remarkable first half.

Van could have chosen to use this tour as a "greatest hits" comeback, like many artists of a certain age do, throwing out "Moondance" and "Wild Night" night after night to the eager fans, but instead he's been performing one of his most obscure albums to sold-out crowds for the better part of a year.

He has the reputation as a sour grump who's always complaining about the public's perception of him, and the record companies' inability to "get" him. So he's doing everything the way he wants to do it, releasing the live Astral Weeks on his own label, allowing no production sheen added to the mix, refusing to load his sets with the easy hits. This is one reason why I love him.

Astral Weeks live was fantastic, although a lot of the surprise has been lost after a year of listening to the live album over and over again, but no matter. "Slim Slow Slider" is still the highlight, as he threw in new lyrics about "going to see the German doctor" and riding that passenger train. It was a phenomenal show, and it was worth every penny I paid. This was one of those rare chances to see something legendary, performed as the artist wanted it performed.

As we filed out after the show I started talking to a middle-aged guy who was sitting next to me, both of us marveling at what we had just seen. "Pretty great, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah, it was. Now, what was 'Astral Weeks'?" the man said. "Was that his band?"

Monday, September 29, 2008

If I ventured in the slipstream...


Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit!

Van Morrison To Deliver a Complete 'Astral Weeks' Concert

If you know me, if you've known me at least for the past ten years, then you know that this is my favorite album of all time. I've fallen in love over this album, bonded in friendship over this album, and written a play partly inspired by this album.

When I'm happiest, I listen to this album, and when I'm at my lowest, I listen to this album.

I pine for the long-rumored remastered edition more often than I do for the long-delayed remastered Beatles albums.

When the Duders and I went north this summer, all we did is listen to Van on the long drive to Door County.

Lester Bangs wrote a brilliant essay on this album, which I read to my Heroes and Villains cast in order to get them in the proper mind-set of the story I was trying to tell.

Just today I was listening to the last three tracks on Into the Music over and over and over again, because I was in a mood, and it helped.

I could tell other stories about this album, but they're personal.

Goddamn. I think I would rather see this concert than watch the Cubs win the World Series.

I have to figure out how to go to this show. In California. At the Hollywood Bowl.

Tickets go on sale this weekend. Wish me luck.

Friday, July 27, 2007

This Charming Man

My day started with a sigh and a groan. I had spent the previous evening drinking it up with The Fathers on a Four-Hour Pass. All my friends with kids and the rare moment away from the house, drinking Blue Moon and catching up on each other's shit.

I get to sleep in during the summer, but this morning I was awake at six am, out of bed at seven, at work at eight. Gathered together some of my new team, went in to the new school to volunteer and unload the new inventory and begin the setup of the new school. Sweated and strained and pushed wagons full of new books to the new rooms with the new carpet and the quiet possibility of the blank slate.

Got a call mid-morning, about my uncle. The uncle with the cancer, and it was the call. The Call. Called others, called my sister, left the new school.

Then I played out the moment I imagined in my head for eight years. That moment when I see my dad for the first time in eight years. Would I panic, would I cry, would I throw things at him?

While I hugged my cousins and said goodbye to Uncle Dave and laughed at the old jokes we remembered, I just ignored him. A sad little man stuck in the corner. In the end, I just ignored him. I just ignored him.

Made the best out of an impossible moment, and then made my way out to the family compound in the quiet country. Hugged my nieces to pieces (heh) and laughed at my nephew's newfound sense of humor. Hunkered down at the table and ate takeout pizza and drank red wine and commiserated with my sister and my mom. Love everywhere.

Left the house, but couldn't go home. Always drawn to those late-night moments at the local pub, and my pal Jeremy was there. Drank Bud Light and had a few smokes and tried to figure out how a redneck bar suddenly caught the Goth. Tried to convince the black-clad kids that the song they were playing on the jukebox was just a ripoff of an old Smiths song, and modern technology proved it for me.

Astral Weeks played me home. Late at night now, and it's been a long, long day. But I'm going back the the hospital tomorrow, and I'll be there as much as I can, and I'll watch all these people come through and visit and try and say goodbye to a good man, a better man than many.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Reminder

Just in case anyone needed reminding...

Astral Weeks is the best album ever.





This post brought to you by The Committee to Remind People that Van Morrison is The God Who Walks Among Us.