the love that loves to love...

It took me a while to understand how dangerous it can be to confuse happiness with the sublime. If ever something could characterize this as much as Van Morrison has for me, I don't know what it would be. He's a tragic figure in my cast of icons, or as I love to coin things: charmingly convoluted.

I finally got around to watching Astral Weeks Live @ the Hollywood Bowl. Recorded live for the first time since 68. During Ballerina, a rare smile briefly bathes Morrison's face. So rare, as any avid fan can attest, is such a joyful manifestation in this artist's repertoire. So much of Morrison's appeal and aggravation comes from his inability to 'put on' any kind of guise other than what he is sincerely experiencing at the moment. He can't fake it - but that is what makes those moments feel so good, so completely potent.


madame george, ballerina, slim slow slider....distinctively memorable.

more later, peut être.