The Saga Of The Belfast Cowboy-With Van, Ah, Sir Van Morrison In Mind

CD Review

By Zack James

Back on Top, Sir (then just plain) Van Morrison, Spectra Records,  

 

Seth Garth now that he was facing his own welcomed retirement from the grind of producing noteworthy copy for a string of publications large and small from Rolling Stone in the old days to Classic Rock magazine these days as a music critic of some note had to laugh, laugh a private laugh now that guys like surely, snarly, burn down the country club, turn the world upside down, we want the world and we want it now bad boy early 1960s folk minute “king of the hill” Bob Dylan was winning a presidential citation in America and more serious bad boys like Sir Mick Jagger (out of the London School of Economics, go figure), and Sir Van Morrison were being knighted by the Queen in England (Queen Elizabeth II, not the Virgin Queen from way back when Spanish Armada days if he was not mistaken, although he had not kept up with the royal succession since he was about twelve, didn’t see any need for it since the Brits had given up on the heathen colonies back in George III’s day and were still smarting from the blow and not some queen from Soho or someplace like that). Those awards, whatever their merit, got him thinking about the old days when guys like Dylan were talking about the times changing, about answers blowing in the wind and guys like Jagger were all but calling for red revolution or something like that, street fighting and gimme shelter anyway.          

Van Morrison too trying to break out with some new sound, started out going be-bop doo-wop Gloria, working the circuit to sailing into the Mystic, getting a mouthful of booze, drugs and whatever else he could get down his throat and finding some Tupelo honey. Taking a break from rock and roll put on a cowboy hat and named himself, branded himself the Belfast Cowboy, later got all bluesy and be-bop, have a few crashes in his life, had to clean up his act. Had to get back on top, got back on top and the Queen (remember not that queen in Soho or something like that) noted that change. Gave him her garter or whatever they give you when they put the sword on your shoulder for doing good for the former empire on which the crusty fiery old sun never set. And has just kept slugging away with the music muse. If you don’t believe that then check out this CD. What Seth wanted to know is whether they knighted music critics, you know guys like him who were blurry-eyed  in the trenches telling a candid world about guys like Dylan and what his lyrics meant in the great Mandela, Jagger and his heavy-lipped homages to be-bop blues brothers from Muddy to Howlin’ to Ray Charles and our man Morrison’s Tupelo honey reference. Probably not. Too bad.