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Evening Standard - Jack Massarik
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Country blues and Celtic soul
Jazz? Well, perhaps not specifically as we know it, but there's a gritty emotional validity and solid pulse about Van Morrison's music that always goes down well at this jazz bastion. And unlike most chart stars, he also plays acceptable harmonica, guitar and alto sax.
Two dynamic shows by the Ulster-born singer-songwriter, whose maverick blend of countryblues was recently redefined as "Celtic soul", kept the customers highly satisfied last night.
Smart in his dark suit and snappy Panama straw hat, his features no longer obscured by beard and dark glasses, the former alcoholic and stage-fright victim sang powerfully and worked hard. Between numbers he hardly said a word and never cracked a single smile (in Belfast you can get beaten up for less) but he did chuckle at his own lyrics occasionally and looked very nearly laid-back.
Flanked by six men in black and Sarah Jory on pedal-steel guitar, Morrison revelled in their warm, Texas-country sound. Fiddler Tom Fitzgibbon, Hammond-organist Geraint Watkins and Jory were the pick of the soloists and St James Infirmary also featured rhythm-guitarist Crawford Bell on trumpet.
Opening with a 1999 hit, Back on Top, the compact Morrison led them through Mixed Up in Fame, Stranded on the Edge of World, Choppin' Wood, Tear Your Playhouse Down, Gotta Stop Drinkin' that Wine, Precious Time is Slippin' Away and other bluesy vehicles for his clipped, punchy delivery.
Though not the most inventive of singers, the 62-year-old Van still sounds like a man and knows how to swing his band. With maturity has also come the confidence of enjoying a reputation that passing fashions cannot diminish. By the time he had got around to Brown-eyed Girl, noisy fans, including visiting thesps Vince Vaughn and Kevin Spacey, had been thoroughly converted. And they didn't even hear Moondance.
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Jazzwise - Stephen Graham
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Twenty years ago, ravaged and worn, not long before the end of his life, Chet Baker performed at the old-look Ronnie Scott’s, a little frayed at the edges but still a haunting performer.
With him on that night was Van Morrison and together they performed Stephen Sondheim’s ‘Send In The Clowns’. Chet is no longer with us but Van, in rude health at 61, and looking noticeably slimmer, was back at Ronnie’s last night with a few tricks up his sleeve. Whether the tricks were aces or not took a while to reveal. Opening, with ‘Back On Top’, cautiously and none too happy with the microphone. “If this is the best you can do with the vocals,” he told the sound man ominously, “then we’re going to have problems.” You could hear the whispers of “Here we go” from the crowd, who had stumped up £50 a ticket for the first house. But the microphone problem quickly ceased to be an issue for Van and ‘Talk Is Cheap’ that followed was better, but none too startling. By the third tune Van was settled and the momentum started to gather, with the funked up ‘Fame’, not one of the best tracks on his Blue Note album What’s Wrong With This Picture, but wonderfully cussed here with Morrison’s longstanding beef with the media given another airing as Van sang resignedly, “The press have gone and made another mess of it.”
While Van was in good voice, the band was perfunctory at best. Ned Edwards is a likeable fixture, but no great shakes as either a guitarist or vocalist and it was only Geraint Watkins, on organ, keys and piano who really cut a dash. The violinist Tony Fitzgibbon rose to the occasion but it was the inclusion of a steel guitar player Sarah Jory that really put the stamp on the band. Van has been touring his country album Pay The Devil this year so the inclusion of the steel was not a surprise although the band only played two tunes from the album, the very strongly delivered ‘Playhouse’ and affecting ‘There Stands The Glass’. Interestingly, where the set proved strongest was not in the hits (a tired old stab at ‘Moondance’ and a dull version of ‘Jackie Wilson Said’) but in the blues covers and an affectionate treatment of Mose Allison’s ‘Don’t Worry About A Thing’, actually recorded in Ronnie’s for the album How Long Has This Been Going On? Ronnie’s artistic director Leo Green, who worked with Van for eight years, told me afterwards, “Van’s a blues man, through and through” and on this showing he was at his best when he was at his most primitive and raw as on the dramatic ‘St James’ Infirmary’ and the crowd pleasing ‘Gloria’ that got the well heeled crowd roaring “G-L-O-R-I-A” back at him. It wasn’t quite vintage Van. There was too much ropey saxophone playing made up for by his sassy harmonica lines and the band also failed to add that extra authentic spark he needs. Yet the show acted as a reminder of the abundance of Van’s jazz and blues-rooted vocal gifts. A unique figure, coming to a jazz club he may have done “two bad things: one country, two western”, as he told the audience wryly, but only he can get away with such a mix of music with his miraculous voice and a back catalogue of songs he delivers with rare conviction.