Like all Marcus collections, it contains examples of him at his insightful, thought-provoking best and at his blustery, bullshitting worst, at times in the same long, rambling sentence. For some reason, every subject he writes about has to somehow be made into an exemplar of the American democratic experiment or an artist testing the boundaries of freedom or expression. The smallest throwaway moment in a song can be the launching point for pages and pages of ruminations on God and/or the blues. When he's on to something this can be amazing, but the more he writes like this the more he risks turning into a parody of himself. Every note is not a life or death matter, even for a singer as weird and gifted as Van Morrison. The high points are easily worth the lows, though, and not enough people have written in depth about Morrison, a guy overdue for some serious critical study. Biggest disappointment with this book: only two mentions of "Veedon Fleece," his greatest album after "Astral Weeks." It's a minefield of literary and Celtic mythological references that I thought would surely attract Marcus. ( )

Wondering just how to qualify this collection--my rating isn't representative of this book as a whole. Since I only really know Van Morrison's work up through 1974, I pretty much skimmed or skipped entirely the essays on music with which I wasn't familiar. However, I have thoroughly immersed myself in Them's repertoire and Morrison's solo work through Veedon Fleece since the first few days of my 17th year, and I found Marcus' writing in these essays to be solid and rightfully swept up in the spirit of romanticism that Morrison's music evokes, in no uncertain terms.

Primarily, though, this book gets my recommendation for its "Astral Weeks. 1968" essay. The album was my first real introduction to Van Morrison as an artist, and I quite vividly remember the first time I ever listened to the album. It is a living, breathing being to me that has offered solace and contemplation through the years and has adapted in its truthfulness as I've grown older. It has meant everything the lyrics and musicianship offer, but has also long since ventured further than maybe even its own intention. This is why, for a while, I avoided Marcus' essay on it, for fear of ruining its place in my soul, but I am happy to say that was not the case. Marcus' essay was fully its own--clearly identifiable as Greil Marcus, put into the context of his own particular dissection. I was a little doubtful at first of where he was going with John Carlos, Tommie Smith, and Bob Beamon, but he tied it to the album quite nicely. I like the essay itself because ultimately it is simply a paean to any particular art that has the power to move an individual to his or her core. Sure, Marcus gives us specifics on the album's musicians and makings and contours, he puts it into historical context, he puts it into the context of Morrison's body of work, and that's fascinating in its own right. The persistent note though is that it occurred because all the elements came together in such a way that made its beauty exactly what it was. Which is what you can say about any great, terrible, or mundane event really. But it gives the individual a sense of meaning. It highlights my own experience, when and where this album came into my life, how it has influenced my self and how my self informs what I take from the album. Like Marcus, who spends around 17 pages detailing this album only to end with "I've played Astral Weeks more than I've played any other record I own; I wouldn't tell you why even if I knew," I can understand the entirety of the album's structure, but in the end it's just about the personal connection, the right place at the right time that sticks. I think we can say lots of things about what we love deeply, but there is always the unspoken element that can never be put into words.

On the rare occasion I come across a member of the tribe that fully reveres this album with no exceptions; we hardly ever exchange any meaningful dialogue over it, but there's an unmistakable gesture that usually accompanies our shared reverence. Likewise, Marcus acknowledges that it "has led so many people to take the album as a kind of talisman, to recognize others by their affection for it, to say 'I'm going to my grave with this record, I will never forget it.'" This essay affirms the private fulfillment that is at once so singular but that is also shared by so many.

And that is what I have to say about that. ( )

I've read this before and even though Greil Marcus gives me a pain, there is so much I like about this, not least of which is that he makes me want to listen to Van Morrison even more carefully then I already do. And read more Yeats. ( )

I found this to be a rather uneven, at times impenetrable, book, but with enough going for it to salvage it from being two stars.

I stopped reading music newspapers like NME a couple of decades ago as I couldn't understand what the hell the journalists were talking about, even when they were writing about music I knew very well. It all seemed like they were trying to prove how clever they were and, maybe showing that I'm not so clever, I just didn't get it. This is the tone that carries across in this book - Marcus has clearly thought a lot about Morrison's music, and he really wants you to know that he has.

So, while there's too much "clever-cloggery", there isn't enough of the stuff that partially redeems the book: background to the writing and recording of the songs featured; Morrison's own thoughts about the songs (though, granted, he doesn't talk much about his work); and just why Morrison's music, and these songs in particular, are so important to Marcus.

Maybe that stuff is in there and I just wasn't paying enough attention, but I had to force myself to finish the book and, while I'm glad I did, it's not an experience I'd care to repeat, at least not all in one go. I might re-read a chapter about a particular song as I'm listening to it - but then again, I might not.

I bought this book thinking it might give me some insight into what I find so appealing about Van Morrison's wonderful music. In the end, I guess I've decided that Marcus's opinions about Morrison just don't matter to me all that much, and I'm glad: I'm happy to leave my fascination with Van Morrison's music somewhat unexamined. As Billy Bragg said:
The temptation
To take the precious things we have apart
To see how they work
Must be resisted for they never fit together again.

Edit: This book did not survive my recent book cull. ( )

I like Van Morrison! Do you like Van Morrison?! ( )