-Tore Down A la Rimbaud, VTM-
I could practically name the date I became a full-fledged Van Morrison fan: Early July 1977. I was eleven or twelve. That was the day I walked into the Roxy Theatre in downtown Regina, Saskatchewan hoping to see a science fiction flick called Capricorn One but accidently walked into The Band's Last Waltz. I have a bad habit of not looking at Movie Marquees and walked in without knowing what was showing. I also walked in half way through the flick. By the time I had purchased popcorn and pop and licorice Van Morrison was making his appearance on the screen.
I thought, "Who is this strange little garden gnome and why isn't anybody wearing any space suits?" But it was too late to stop now. I sedately ate my food and ever so slowly I got into the music, by degrees and waves, and by the end of the show I was hooked. I stayed around for the next showing and then came back the next day. And by the next weekend I had bought the sound-track.
My life had been changed from that point on. Although I had always been into music, my personal tastes up until that time were typical for a pre-pubescent Native Indian boy, a young punk-kid, all snotty nosed and scabs. Back on the Rez we listened to Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, and Willie Nelson, but in the city, the big city we listened to KISS and DEEP PURPLE and BLACK SABBATH. If it wasn't heavy metal it wasn't worth shit.
It was the Last Waltz that showed me how great music can be. It wasn't until a month later that I actually got completely hooked on Van's music. I went to an all night party where they had a pinball game in the living room. Because I didn't drink or do drugs I played pinball. Someone put on a THEM GREATEST HITS featuring Van Morrison album. When everyone passed out I stole the album and took it home and played it non-stop for the rest of the summer.
Somewhere along the line, I had realized that all my heavy metal heroes were more or less influenced by the same people that my new musical heroes were influenced by. Jimmy Page had even played guitar on BABY, PLEASE DON'T GO. I started exploring this new/old music. I bought John Lee Hooker, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee, Sleepy John Estes, and all the old blues I could get my hands on, then I started digging into old jazz records and rhythm and blues and eventually got around to Ray Charles.
Van Morrison's music has always meant alot to me since then. He was the catalyst in everything I have become today, the musical choices I have made. But I don't have a favorite Van Morrison album, not even a top five. Each album he has put out means something special to me. Each album, when I listen to it, conjures up a moment in my life, it is the ties that bind my memories.
I associate certain albums with certain relationships I have had, those early spring moments walking to the university with my earphones on, hitch-hiking along deserted highways, our favorite album at the The Lazy Owl, the Student Union pub.
No Guru, No Method, No Teacher I will always associate with Sheila because that is the Van album we both always listened to together. Sheila was my first real love and my first real heartbreak. It was also at a time when I first moved away from ally my friends and family and was alone after I graduated from university and moved away to Hamilton, Ontario where I became an art curator for a prestigious gallery...where I lived on a pallet on the floor of my first art studio. I wrote long love letters to Sheila and signed at the bottom,
KEEP ME AWAY FROM PORTER OR WHISKEY,
DON'T PLAY ANYTHING SENTIMENTAL,
IT'LL MAKE ME CRY.
When I listen to Inarticulate Speech of the Heart I can almost smell the sea salt spray of the Maritimes where I hiked along country roads in the autumn.
Whenever I hear any cut from Poetic Champions Compose I remember the cold mountain air of Lake Louise, Alberta and the days of telemark skiing all alone, and the glasses of wine beside a crackling fire with chance-met friends.
I asked the boy beneath the pines
He said, "The master's gone alone
Herb-picking somewhere on the mount,
Cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown."
-Alan Watts-
Avalon Sunset conjures up my days hiking through the mountains of Banff, lying by the river with Paul McKinnon and Shelly Ferguson with candles and bottles of wine, and books of poetry. That was the summer we called "M"less summer because Paul had a typewriter without the letter "M".
Then one day, I had my own radio show in Dawson City, Yukon. The show was called TUMBLEWEED RADIO and I was the host Luke Warmwater. It was the prized afternoon slot from 12 to 2 p.m. Every monday was special because it was MOSTLY MORRISON MONDAY! With a Van C.D. and trivia. In Canada we have a little law concerned about playing 40% Canadian content or Cancon for those in the know. Otherwise, the whole show would have been dedicated to Van Morrison.
Tumbleweed Radio played five days a week and opened and closed with the same songs. KING OF THE ROAD and HIT THE ROAD, JACK. And I would always have at least three Van songs, The Van-con set of the day.
I think the Best of Van Morrison was the worst thing that could have happened. Those songs on the compilation are all that he is now known for. I believe there are far more superior songs on his albums that would have properly constituted a better package of "best of..." And for years you could walk into any cafe and listen to the album play over and over. There have been only a few times in my life where I have walked into a bar or cafe and listened to something other than this album. Oh well, maybe that is why his music is all the more special to me.
