Under the radar, a new Van Morrison album has arrived. On Morrison’s website, the release of Live at Orangefield, had been promised for a while, and last month, on vinyl and CD, on Van the Man’s Orangefield Records, it went on sale.
I subscribe to iTunes, and with any artist whose work I’ve downloaded, I will usually find that performer’s latest effort on the “New Releases” tab of my Apple Music homepage. But not always with Morrison, a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member who has released an astounding 45 studio albums since 1967.
Morrison, a native of Belfast, Northern Ireland, also has cut six live albums. His first one, It’s Too Late to Stop Now–an expanded edition was issued in 2016–is one of the best live albums ever. His second live collection, Live at the Grand Opera House Belfast, obviously was recorded in his hometown.
As was Live at Orangefield. The Belfast Cowboy’s first live performance took place with his skiffle group in 1959 at Orangefield High School when he was a student there. In 2014, the school closed, and to salute the school–and even more so Belfast–Morrison, with his always tight band, returned.
A Facebook Morrison group–Van, by the way, is no fan of Facebook–alerted me that Live at Orangefield was available to download. Apple didn’t notify me. Possibly, because both musically and in interviews, Morrison was probably the most strident opponent among entertainment industry figures of the COVID lockdowns, that online slight was intentional. Three Morrison singles, one recorded with Eric Clapton, attacked government COVID-related restrictions. The triple-vinyl album, Latest Record Project Volume One and its follow-up, What’s It Gonna Take?–continued the pushback.
While there were some favorable reviews, most critics savaged, unfairly, that output. Rock critics are mostly an intellectually vapid lot–and like sportswriters, most of them prefer writing about politics when the opportunity arises. Morrison, despite his legendary status, offered those mental midgets a ripe target. But history has been kind to this septuagenarian rebel. At the very least, the COVID lockdowns were an overreach. Still, in the media and the music business, Van Morrison, is almost certainly purposely ignored.
In a Google News search, as of this writing, I could only find two reviews of Live at Orangefield.
And that’s a pity, because Live at Orangefield is an essential Morrison work. While Morrison has a reputation as an aloof and ornery fellow–which is either not true or it is possibly an exaggeration pushed by those self-worshipping rock critics–he offers some charm here.
In a mostly spoken-word piece on this album, “On Hyndford Street,” Morrison calls out to the crowd, “If any of the guys from ‘the street’ are here, give me a shout if you remember this one.”
Playing ’round Mrs. Kelly’s lamp Going out to Holywood on the bus And walking from the end of the lines to the seaside Stopping at Fusco’s for ice cream [loud cheers follow] In the days before rock ‘n’ roll.
I looked it up–I don’t know if the establishment I found online is the same Fusco’s that Morrison and his pals used to patronize, but there is a Fusco’s in Belfast.
Van the Man was born on August 31, 1945 at 145 Hyndford Street. And particularly with “On Hyndford Street,” which as originally released on the Hymns to the Silence double album, but also on other tracks here, listeners get the feeling that they are participating in a walking tour of Belfast–with Morrison as a tour guide.
I’ve only seen Morrison once in concert–he was fantastic. Morrison has a reputation for not playing many of his hits from the overexposed “classic rock” era. But Van is a performer, not a fossil, and if he had fossilized his career, then he’d be on the stale casino circuit along with Lynard Skynard, which carries on even though that band has no original members left on its roster. But they play the hits, as do the Van Morrison tribute bands.
But there are some of those Van hits on Live at Orangefield. The album opens with the instrumental “Celtic Excavation,” and then segues to “Into the Mystic.” Belfast of course is a seaport. I don’t know if this stanza is about Belfast, but it could be.
And when that foghorn blows I will be coming home And when the foghorn blows I want to hear it I don’t have to fear it.
Another hit, albeit a minor one, “Cleaning Windows,” follows. Morrison’s job before becoming a full-time musician was toiling as a window washer in Belfast. Then comes “Orangefield” and “Moondance.”
Other Belfast-related songs include “Got to Go Back” and “Northern Muse (Solid Ground).”
Another highlight here is “That’s Life,” the Frank Sinatra song, which Morrison recorded with Georgie Fame in 1995. Lyrically it’s an important addition to the set list, and musically too. In the 2000s and the following decade, much of Van the Man’s output had a jazzy and swing feel. New age jazz is a genre Morrison worked with in the 1980s; several of the songs I mentioned earlier utilize that sound.
Live at Orangefield is an essential collection for the Morrison fan, and it’s a good place to start, particularly if you enjoy jazz-flavored popular music, if you want to learn more about this fantastic musician.
And if you live in Belfast–then, man, what are you waiting for?
One more thing: Smart people listen to Van Morrison.
Live at Orangefield is available in vinyl and CD forms at Van Morrison.com. And you can download it at iTunes and stream it on Spotify.
Two longtime friends—who helped me in my celebrated but short career as a rock ‘n’ roll singer—died this past week, causing me to recall the fine times we had with the band.
Ken Mills, who died at 75 in Minneapolis, served as the manager and booker of my band, The Trippers. Steve Ettles, who died at 72 in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, was the first roadie for the band.
Based in Sioux Falls, the Trippers played gigs throughout the Midwest, first as a cover band for rhythm and blues and later as an emerging acid rock group in the 1960s. We weren’t good enough to make it beyond the Midwest, but we earned spots in the Rock Halls of Fame in South Dakota and Iowa. Our one hit reached No. 99 on the Billboard’s Top Tunes.
I’d kept in touch with Ken and Steve over the past 50-odd years and seen them both a few years ago.
In the 1960s, Ken fell in love with rock ‘n’ roll. He began managing, booking, and promoting bands as a junior in high school. After promoting bands, Ken started working in radio as a disc jockey and worked at KISD, KLOH, KELO, KXRB, and KLYX in the Sioux Falls area, as well as developing and launching his own station, KSKY, in the Black Hills. Ken was inducted into the South Dakota Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2009. As he got older, Ken developed a problem with his vision and became an advocate for those with severe eye disorders and blindness, using his voice to communicate with his audience.
Steve had a tougher life. His engaging smile earned him friends throughout his life. Unfortunately, his smile also got him entangled in a savings and loan association scandal. He spent a year in federal prison for doing what he thought was a favor for a friend. It turned out the friend was embezzling money unbeknownst to Steve. I told his story and those of others in a book I wrote a few years ago, Flyover Country. The book focuses on the 1969 high school graduating class from Lincoln High School in Sioux Falls.
As the introduction states: “Flyover Country focuses on a group of baby boomers who graduated from high school in 1969 in the Midwest before setting off into the world in a time of turbulence to fight in Vietnam, to protest against that war, to find jobs, to have families, and to live lives throughout the United States and overseas. Many of these people have made significant contributions to their communities as business owners, doctors, lawyers, ministers, politicians, and teachers. Many have suffered through tough times, losing their way due to alcohol or drugs or facing family crises from divorce to the death of a spouse or a child.”
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