Van Morrison : Brand New Day

Mid October.

The Sun rises at about 7 O’clock in this part of the South Downs.

It is my habit, ingrained from youth, to start my day at about 5 O’ Clock.

So, I have two hours of the mourning veil of night for reflection and contemplation before Day stirs the sleeping world.

Safely settled in our new Home (many thanks for all your good wishes) I lace up my boots, zip up my flying jacket, reach for my staff and head out in the dark to climb to the top of the ridge to await the Dawn.

Climbing steadily upward, aware that a new chapter in Life has begun, I recall roads taken and roads not taken in the past.

I recall friends and relations who have vanished like the melting snow.

I am grateful for the twists and turns in the road that have led me to this place now.

Reaching the summit I stand silently embracing the dark all around.

Tuning in I hear the wind blow where it listeth and the skitterings of nocturnal nature.

Slowly, slowly, as the world turns, the light returns.

There is always one moment when it seems as if all of nature is holding its breath, rapt, and all is silent with the light alone in motion.

And then a prophetic bird announces in song, ‘It’s day! It’s Day!’

Yes, yes, it seems like (seems like) feels like (feels like) A Brand New Day.

A Brand New Day.

This is the song I hear in my Soul each time I greet A Brand New day.

Van Morrison from his 1970 masterwork, ‘Moondance’.

Brand New Day is a song of steadfast Hope.

A song that admits no Life escapes trial and tribulation.

A song that takes us on a journey, at contemplative pace, through those dark valleys to the sunlit uplands of A Brand New Day.

A Brand New day filed with mystery and possibilities.

Van’s prayerful vocal inspires the musicians accompanying him to transcendent heights.

Jeff Labes’ piano shines like streams of daylight stars.

John Platania’s guitar has a tear-glistening tender beauty.

Jack Schrorer’s saxophone blows a corona of balm all around.

Gary Mallaber’s drums drive us forward on a pilgrimage to the Light.

John Klingberg’s bass holds us all in Faith. Faith in the journey to the Light.

Judy Clay, Cissy Houston and Jackie Verdell on backing vocals lift us up in celestial acclamation.

A Brand New Day.

A Brand New Day has dawned and the world will never be the same again.

Never the same.

I’ll leave you with a Miracle.

A demo of Brand New Day featuring a vocal by Van that takes us way, way, way, out beyond the Stars.

Into flooded fields of light beyond all measurement.

In memory of Jack Schrorer and John Klingberg.

Van Morrison – Tupelo Honey: The Grandeur of Love

‘Tupelo Honey has always existed … Van was the vessel and the earthly vehicle for it’ (Bob Dylan)

Embed from Getty Images

If a songwriter is very, very lucky they might in their lifetime write one song that becomes the misty eyed anthem of love for devoted couples all over the world. A love song that incarnates love rather than merely describing it. A song that always seem fresh while yet building a patina of fond memories that increase every time it is played.

A song which flowing like a river, never the same twice, still seems to contain the past, the present and the future. A song which takes up residence in the hearts of succeeding generations – for today and every day, someone, somewhere, is discovering that they are in love for the very first time.

By my count (and on The Jukebox my count is the one that really counts) Van Morrison has written at least four songs that meet the criteria outlined above. From his incandescent second solo album the title track, ”Moondance’ with its peerless swooning swing and, ‘Crazy Love’ with its intoxicated, intoxicating, sweet surrender.

From ‘Avalon Sunset’ came the deep, devotional, ‘Have I Told You Lately That I Love You’ – a song especially close to my heart as it was the first song my wife, Clare, and I danced to once we were married.

But, if I had to pick one song to demonstrate the depth of Van Morrison’s romanticism; proof that he was and is the great courtly love balladeer of his age I will always choose, ‘Tupelo Honey’ – a pluperfect song, glowingly alive with love’s grandeur.

Good God, what a hallelujah of a song! A song that shares the blissful total immersion in the sweetness of love with Solomon’s Song of Songs! I love the majestically sure, unhurried flow of the song which sweeps our hearts away, illuminating our deepest wish and need – to love and to be loved.

The team of musicians assembled in San Francisco in 1971 to record Tupelo Honey brought all their technical accomplishment to the track but, no doubt inspired by their mercurial leader, they brought something much rarer – a devotional surrender to the music they were making, so that ‘Tupelo Honey’ really does sound like a direct revelation from Heaven itself.

On drums, the great Connie Kay from the Modern Jazz Quartet, having already played with angelic grace throughout Van’s sublime masterpiece, ‘Astral Weeks’ outdoes himself with his backbeat and fills surging the song forward to greater and greater heights of rhythmic rapture. On guitar Ronnie Montrose plays with a shimmering, harp like delicacy that is endlessly beguiling.

Mark Jordan’s piano takes us by the hand and navigates us through the song assuring us that we can and will find our way to that promised land of love and fulfilment we all believe is out there waiting for us to come home to. Bruce Royston on flute is the harbinger of the miracles to come while Ted Templeman on organ, Gary Mallaber on percussion and ever faithful Jack Schroer on saxophones ensure that the miracles are delivered.

Tying everything together is Van’s vocal which reached pinnacles of inspiration that is beyond the reach of critical language to adequately express. So, I will unashamedly borrow my language from Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem, ‘God’s Grandeur’.

Van Morrison’s singing on Tupelo Honey flames out like shining from shook foil, it gathers and gathers and gathers to a greatness that elevates everyone who listens to it – inducting them into a vision that encompasses love in all its sacred and sexual incarnations. A vision which once experienced leaves a permanent flaming brand on the heart and soul.

This post dedicated to Clare because she’s as sweet as Tupelo Honey. Because she’s an angel of the very first degree.

Note:

There’s a wonderful live version from his 1979 tour of Ireland featuring Toni Marcus on violin and the late Peter Bardens on keyboards which I urge you to investigate.