Van Morrison
If mathematics in the universal language, then music must be the cosmic common denominator. The vast majority of people on this planet posses a basic understanding of math - add, subtract, multiple, divide - a bit of square root here, perhaps some calculus there. Most don’t have enough fingers and toes for group theory, vector spaces, or continuous function, nor the mental strength to lift those numbers off a textbook page and up into their brains.
Music requires no advanced degree, in fact no education at all, to appreciate and understand it. Jazz, rock, rap, katajjag, nogaku, classical, fusion, lullabies to love songs - somewhere, someone has caught a beat, heard a tone, tapped a foot and grasps the meaning of musical notes and the silence between them. Music transcends time and space. It is, all at the same time, as young and as old as the moment it was created. It is an instant memory maker. We remember events and occasions, victories and defeats, lovers and enemies, with a note, a chord, a lyric. In 1977, NASA launched Voyager 1, an interstellar space probe with a golden record on board. The music on the record includes recordings of Bach, Mozart, Louis Armstrong, Navajo Indian chants, Azerbaijan bagpipes, Australian Aboriginal songs, Chuck Berry, and everything in between. All with the hope somewhere, someday, someone will play the galactic version of Name That Tune.
We took our seats in the Shubert Theater the other night. A few minutes later a middle aged couple took the seats next to ours. “Where are you from?” “Dallas. We flew up here just to see Van Morrison.” “We did the same thing.”
The set opened with Dangerous - a new song Morrison wrote to deal with very public spat with the Northern Ireland Public Health Minister and Boris Johnson’s “party gate” scandal during the Covid-19 pandemic. What followed was 95 straight minutes of pure legend, bespoke in a mauve suit, purple fedora, and golden pipes, singing a few old classics, and several what may very well become new standards. Plus a cover of Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb. He closed the show with Gloria. A 1,600 person sing along, every member of the Shubert audience on their feet, belting out the lyrics with the master of the musical instrument.
Van Morrison, at 77, is witness that musical time is not linear. It defies the laws of science and mathematics. With a lyric or two he transports us to our youth, and 50 years ago is here, now. Most of this older audience couldn’t tell you what they ate for breakfast 3 days ago, but Morrison sings We were born before the wind, Also, younger than the sun and everyone remembers 1970 like it was 5 seconds ago. I cannot explain that math, but the equation gives me the right answer every time.
