Can Van the Man Do What Van Can?

I grew disheartened before leaving for the Van Morrison concert Wednesday night. After poking around on the internet, I was reminded that Mr. Morrison has what some have called a prickly personality, probably a result of an intense shyness, that onstage can lead to unpleasant behavior. He has been known to spend most of a concert facing upstage, away from the audience; he has been known to berate an audience for perceived misconduct; and he has been known to perform for just ten minutes, get angry at something, then stalk offstage. So when I left for the concert, it was with a sense of real trepidation: would I get Good Van, or the other one? Would my expensive ticket turn out to be a complete waste of money and time?

Traffic was typically horrible, and just as I searched for the right door into the Gibson Amphitheatre I could hear from within "Please welcome to the stage...!" I found the door, found the right aisle, found the right seat, and the first number was already underway, with the band's lead guitarist handling the vocals. Immediately I could tell that the band was a good one: sharp and solid, just as you'd expect from the notoriously demanding Van Morrison. For the second number they launched into the sublime "Into the Mystic," which was handled by Van's daughter Shana. I wasn't quite impressed--she has a big voice, smoky and dark, but I also thought her voice a little harsh.

The third number, and out he came, Van the Man, stalking centerstage with his now-trademark hat covering his bald spot. He took up his place behind his microphone and rarely moved from there. Van does not dance, he does not smile, he rarely interacts with the audience more than to say "Thank you" when people applaud. But I've seen this sort of thing before: Lou Reed's performance in Chicago a few years ago was almost identical, and it came off not as arrogance but confidence. The same here: Van knows what he does, isn't at all interested in empty showmanship, and simply focuses strictly on the music.

And on Wednesday, the result was terrific. There was only a minimal lightshow, nothing like the Pink Floyd concerts I saw recently; there was no set, and in fact the band was clustered tightly in the center of the stage, leaving vast empty areas all around them, as if they were a safe musical cocoon for Van to hide inside. The Man's voice was flawless, and even though I only recognized about half the numbers he performed (geez, what a deep catalogue of tunes he's built up in 40 years!) it was all an example of the perfect mastery of songcraft. He epitomizes the performer who "makes it look easy," even though we know how torturous he finds it onstage--but since he was due to get an award the very next night, I think that overall Van was feeling pretty good about things, and it showed in his performance. There was energy, there was enthusiasm, even if he never smiled, even if he never said "You guys are great!" or anything pandering like that. It all was made manifest in the performance, in the music, in that one true place where Van Morrison has lived his entire life.