It Was All a Big Lie

I feel a bit silly now having gotten excited about the new Van Morrison album, though they kind of tricked me by releasing the least crazy songs first. “Only a Song” almost seems calculated to (ahem) inoculate you against whatever madness might follow.

Only a song, it’s not set in stone, it’s only a song
It’s only a poem that could change in the long run, it’s only a song
It’s what I said then just to make it rhyme
Could have been on my mind at the time
Putting paper to pen, it’s only a song, it’s only a song

But now that I look at them again, the song titles on Latest Record Project more than hinted that it was going to be a bumpy ride. They include “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished,” “The Long Con,” “Double Agent,” and “Duper’s Delight”; and of course there’s “They Own the Media,” which is tucked away toward the end but in retrospect flashes bright red with warning. And while I certainly agree with the sentiment of “Why Are You on Facebook?”, is it really a subject worthy of the author of “Madame George” or “The Philosopher’s Stone”?

This morning I am trying to listen to the album so I can know of what I speak. It begins pleasantly enough with the self-referential title track and “Where Have All the Rebels Gone,” which is vaguely grumpy (“Need a real live audience to perform/Where have all the rebels gone?/I can’t find anyone”) but jaunty-sounding. “Psychoanalysts Ball” could be the grumblings of any disillusioned ex-patient.

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Who Owns the Media?

Some disturbing news came across the transom today concerning Van Morrison’s new album, which contains a song called “They Own the Media.” Here are the lyrics:

They tell us that ignorance is bliss
I guess for those that control the media it is
They own the media they control
The stories we are told
You ever try to go against them, you will be ignored
Because they control
They control
They control the narrative they perpetuate the myth
Keep on telling you lies, telling you ignorance is bliss
Leave it all and you’ll never get, never get wise
To the truth
Cuz they control
Everything you do
Everything you do
Everything you do
Everything you do

They control the narrative
They perpetuate the myth
Keep on selling you lies
Tell you ignorance is bliss
Believe it all and you’ll never get the truth
Never get wise
Wise to their lies
To their lies
They control the media
They control the media

It is never actually stated who the “they” is, but one has suspicions. We all know who is usually accused of “owning the media”; I don’t think I need to repeat it here.

Frankly I’m not sure I’m motivated to keep writing about the man after this. Anti-lockdown songs were one thing; this is another. Thoughts?

The Mountain, the Train, and the River

So the good news is that Steve Turner’s book is pretty easy going; I ripped through the first two chapters yesterday afternoon. The bad news is that he paints a slightly different picture of Van Morrison’s influences than Clinton Heylin did, which is going to necessitate a little bit of backtracking.

Turner puts particular emphasis on Mahalia Jackson, who was mentioned only in passing in Can You Feel the Silence? And in retrospect this seems like the missing piece of the puzzle — a sanctified female presence to balance out all those bluesmen and country boys. Says Turner,

It was while sitting in front of the family gramophone as a child that that George Ivan [Van] experienced the first of the intense feelings he was later to interpret as a form of spiritual ecstasy. His first memory of this happening dates back to when he was three years old and heard the voice of the American gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. It forged an indelible link in his mind between music and a sense of wonder.

Turner also talks a lot about Charlie Parker as an influence, and I’m going to have to recuse myself from that discussion, as jazz is not my area. But speaking of horn players, I would be remiss if I neglected (again) to mention Jimmy Giuffre, whose 1957 British hit “The Train and the River” was instrumental (haw) in inspiring Van Morrison to learn how to play sax.

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Too Late to Stop Now

It is a sad but true fact that, after about a year of assiduous if intermittent effort, I have made it barely 30 pages into Clinton Heylin’s Van Morrison bio Can You Feel the Silence? It’s not that Heylin isn’t a skillful writer, but his book is so detailed and dense with references that it’s hard to make any headway. So I decided to take a flier on a different one by Steve Turner, whose Beatles book In Their Own Write was a valued source for The Beatles Plus 50.

When it arrived yesterday I was surprised but not displeased to find that unlike Heylin’s tome, which is squat but thick — not unlike its subject — Too Late to Stop Now is more of a coffee table book, measuring a generous 9 by 12 but clocking in at an economical 182 pages, with a lot of pictures. Maybe this is what I need — something more than a children’s book but less than a magnum opus. I will soon be cracking it open here on this glorious, sunny Sunday afternoon. Will report back later.