Having with his two previous L.P. releases created albums already vying in the minds of many critics for the accolade of greatest rock record in existence, as 1970 drew to a close 25-year-old Van Morrison had set the bar impossibly high for any subsequent music he would make.
Born George Ivan Morrison in Belfast, Northern Ireland on August 23rd 1945, he first came to prominence in the mid-60s as front man of Them, a dynamic R & B outfit from his home city. Upon leaving the group toward the end of 1966, Morrison, responsible for their signature piece ‘Gloria‘ (a forceful rocker every self-respecting ’60s & ’70s bar band were compelled to learn), headed to New York where a solo contract with Bang Records awaited.
This development brought mixed fortunes for the artist and while the period brought success in the form of majestic 1967 hit single ‘Brown Eyed Girl‘, Morrison had signed on such unfavourable terms he was quickly in the process of negotiating his release – Bang duly having their pound of flesh by putting ‘Brown Eyed Girl‘ among a collection of demo recordings not intended for the public domain and declaring it his debut album.
Such was the ill-feeling caused by the L.P. (‘Blowing Your Mind‘ – September 1967), the episode instilled in Morrison a deep sense of mistrust in the machinations of the music business, this being a recurring theme of his songwriting thereafter.
Salvation of sorts was at hand when in 1968 Warner Bros moved to sign him and on financing studio time at Century Sound, New York on just three days in September and October of that year, Morrison managed to present the label with his monumental ‘Astral Weeks‘ (November 1968).
This breathtaking cycle of impressionistic songs that embraced folk, blues and jazz, barely caused a ripple with the record buying public, but the critical response was ecstatic – the album quickly acclaimed as the most compelling thus far made in the field of popular music.
While over time ‘Astral Weeks‘ built up a steady in-the-know following (peaking at 55 on the U.K. charts), Morrison was not heard of again until the utterly brilliant ‘Moondance‘ (January 1970). Another masterful collection, although more accessible than its predecessor, each album was marked by the captivating serenity of the content.
After 14 months had elapsed between ‘Astral Weeks‘ and ‘Moondance‘, the latter faring much better as a commercial proposition (U.K. 32/U.S. 29), Morrison wasted no time in committing another batch of songs to tape – and built largely upon material written, but omitted for his previous two albums, released Van Morrison: HIS BAND AND THE STREET CHOIR in November 1970.
Deciding not to pursue his original plan of make an a-Capella record with a group of vocalists dubbed ‘the Street Choir’, Morrison invited them along anyway to A & R Studios in New York, where from March to July his third album for Warner Bros was duly cut.
Retaining the services of John Klingberg (bass), John Platania (guitars/mandolin), Jack Schroer (saxophone/piano) from the ‘Moondance‘ sessions, along with keyboard player Alan Hand who performed with Morrison on the U.S. tour in support of the album, they were supplemented by Keith Johnson (organ/trumpet) and drummer David Shaws, whose credits also included that of assistant producer.
With the central figure himself in charge of production and chipping in with acoustic guitar, harmonica and saxophone, the ensemble, bolstered on occasion by the six-strong ‘Street Choir’ create an endearing 12-track set. While lacking the consistent magnificence of the two albums it follows, the record still stands as an engaging, often serene collection.
In continuing the R & B inflections that came to the fore on ‘Moondance‘ – maintaining the move away from the jazz textures of ‘Astral Weeks‘ – the album, for the most part, has a relaxed, easy-going ambience, Morrison in his lyricism focused more upon living in the moment than deep-rooted mysticism.
No song captures the spontaneous essence of the record more than uplifting opening track ‘Domino‘.
Through the witty lyric Morrison sounds anxious to avoid confrontation within a romantic liaison (‘Don’t wanna discuss it/Think it’s time for a change/You may get disgusted/Start thinkin’ that I’m strange‘), the writer so keen to avoid conflict he contemplates, ‘I’ll go underground/Get some heavy rest.’
Despite these concerns the piece has joyous overtones and when Van tells the band to ‘Hit it‘ the horns blare out for all their worth. Whether the title refers to the falling dominoes of a strained relationship or reference to Morrison-hero Fats Domino, whose New Orleans-based R & B stylings are heard through the album, such things need no great contemplation amidst the glorious tumult.
For its part ‘Domino‘ provided the amusing irony of Morrison calling out the line ‘Well, Mr. DJ, I just wanna hear/Some rhythm and blues music/On the radio‘ – the song when issued as a 45 reaching number nine on the U.S. charts, remaining to this day his most successful Stateside single.
Originally cut at the ‘Astral Weeks‘ sessions, but omitted presumably for not bearing the stream of consciousness lyrical connotations of that album, ‘Crazy Face‘ comes with an air of solemnity – the central character of the title one of several waiting in a churchyard for the appearance of a revered figure.
Built upon melancholy piano chords and decorated with a hymn-like organ refrain, it befalls ‘Crazy Face‘ to break the news, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the prince is late/And he stood outside the church-yard gate/And he stood outside the church-yard gate‘. The tale takes a further oblique twist when the narrator is described as ‘And polished up on his .38/And said/’I got it from Jesse James’, the Wild West outlaw named in the original title (‘Going Along with Jesse James‘) of this vague, if atmospheric track.
Immediately more energetic and ebullient, ‘Give Me a Kiss‘ expresses desire for affection, no matter how small the gesture. Attached to a rollicking melody, Van, through a far from complicated lyric, (‘Baby, just want your sweet kiss/Right-a from your sweet lips/That’s all I want/That’s all I need/I’m satisfied‘), spends his time seeking simple fulfillment.
With the band giving a fine account of themselves as a tightly-wound funk revue, Morrison changes tack again with the Curtis Mayfield-inspired ‘I’ve Been Working.’
Song from the perspective of an everyday toiling man whose thoughts are fixed on what will happen when the shift is over (‘I’ve been workin’ so hard/I come home/I’ll make a love to you‘), the delayed entry of the horns adds drama to the arrangement.
While the track would have been wholly out of place of ‘Astral Weeks‘ – for which it was initially cut – Van, to date, had never been so direct in his lyricism (‘Make me feel so good/Set my soul on fire‘), the funky vibe sounding perfectly natural.
Six years later Bob Seger would accelerate the grooves with a pulsating rendition on his excellent ‘Live Bullet‘ in-concert album.
After displaying their funk credentials, on ‘Call Me Up in Dreamland‘ the troupe reveal their two-way affinity with The Band.
Despite a world-weary slant to the lyrics, rooted in the travails of a touring musician, (‘From the airport to the plane/A way to the railroad trains/Why can’t we take it from the top/And start all over again‘), the melodicism is that of rollicking R & B. With resplendent gospel-tinged harmonies from the Street Choir’ and an uproarious sax solo, this form of rousing roots rock from ‘Moondance‘ onward became routinely described as ‘Caledonia soul.’ While Morrison was its chief proponent, Robbie Robertson and co were the only rock group, at this juncture, to play such material with comparable originality.
Side one closer ‘I’ll Be Your Lover, Too‘ raises the introspective dimension to his writing, Morrison penning a delicate acoustic guitar ballad that is earnest as a declaration of devotion.
Inspired by his recent marriage to San Francisco-born Janet Planet, the sentiments are tender (‘When the day is through/I will come to you/And tell you of your many charms‘), the oft-repeated line ‘Yes I will‘ reinforcing the resolve being expressed.
Sequenced to open side two, ‘Blue Money‘ is a likeable pop-blues shuffle that conveys the restless energy of life on the road, ‘Well the cameraman smiles/Take a break for a while/Do your best, your very best/Take five, honey.’ The conversational vocal delivery, understated horns and close-supporting backing vocals give the piece an instantaneous feel, the snappy, finger-clicking eloquence ensuring it reached the U.S. top thirty (23) when released as a single.
Originally attempted at the ‘Moondance‘ sessions under the title (Sit Down) ‘Funny Face‘, acoustic guitars are again to the fore (played by Morrison and Platania) as the song takes a new name – ‘Virgo Clowns‘ offering support to a friend experiencing hard times, ‘Let us free you from the pain/Let us see you smile again/Let us unlock all the chains/You’re broken-hearted‘.
Extolling positivity as means of overcoming set-backs, (‘Light up your golden smile/Take away all your misery and gloom/Oh, let your laughter fill the room‘), this upbeat folk-song suggests a laugh in the face of adversity can do no harm, a point emphasized by the stifled laughing of assistant producer Shaw and Street Choir member Larry Goldsmith as the track ends, remaining on the take.
Bearing similarity to the magnificent ‘Caravan‘ from ‘Moondance‘, Van espouses the notion of allowing life to simply take its course on ‘Gypsy Queen.’
Taken at a slower pace its first cousin on the previous album, Morrison adopts the near falsetto vocal delivery he used on ‘Crazy Love‘ (‘Moondance‘) and would again on future tracks such as ‘Wavelength‘. If Van has a message through these three minutes of colourful, if slightly contrived musings, it is to love, laugh and dance, (‘Keep on dancin’ in the rain/And if it’s all night, it’s alright‘), but most of all embrace the day.
The shortest track on the record at just over two minutes, ‘Sweet Jannie‘ is a roll along blues affair, Van long-since smitten (‘I’ve been in love with you, baby/Ever since you were back in Sunday school‘), with a woman unresponsive to his overtures. Closer to the tough-rocking inclinations of Them than his more recent thoughtful ruminations, heard in that context it sounds slight, Morrison apparently aware of the limitations by wrapping things up as quickly as he does.
There is far more substance to be found in the two closing tracks, ‘If I Needed Someone‘ and ‘Street Choir.’
The former is a soulful, gospel-infused plea for divine help (‘At times, get so uncertain, I turn to You/Turn to You in my young life/Lord, if I ever needed someone, I need You‘), this prayer to a higher power for guidance among the tracks originally cut for ‘Astral Weeks‘.
What is effectively the title-track, closing cut ‘Street Choir‘ finds Morrison again seeking answers, only this time from an absent friend – the pair now separated by geographical and emotional distance:
‘Why did you leave America?/Why did you let me down?/And now that things seem better off/Why do you come around?
With the ‘Street Choir’ heard to their best effect, the horns organ and plaintive harmonica solo give Van a sumptuous base on which to contemplate a perceived slight which shows no immediate sign of passing:
‘You know I just can’t see you, now/In a-my, in a-my, new world crystal ball/You know I just can’t free you, now/That’s a-not my job at all‘.
While the album, somewhat predictably, was not received with similar acclaim to ‘Moondance‘, there was no discernable backlash from the critics. Noted New York rock scribe Robert Christgau bestowed an ‘A’ mark from his A-D rating system, while Rolling Stone (three stars from five) and the New Musical Express (‘Close to perfect‘) both liked what they heard.
In the marketplace ‘His Band and Street Choir‘ in reaching 32 on U.S. listings fell just short of what ‘Moondance’ (29) achieved, but a U.K. high of number 18 brought notice he was building a sizeable following.
Although the odds were stacked against him in making an album of comparable greatness to the two which precede it, Morrison had gone closer than anyone had a right to expect. Indeed, in his review for Zigzag, a British music publication, John Tobler wrote, ‘Even if it is inferior to ‘Moondance’ it is still better than eighty per cent of the records you’ve got in your collection.’
This an assessment of ‘His Band and Street Choir‘, that, by and large, still holds to this day.
VAN MORRISON – HIS BAND AND STREET CHOIR (Released November 18 1970):
Domino/Crazy Face/Give Me a Kiss/I’ve Been Working/Call Me Up in Dreamland/I’ll Be Your Lover, Too/Blue MMoney/Virgo Clowns/Gypsy Queen/Sweet Jannie/If I Ever Needed Someone/Street Choir;
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