BACKSEAT

Rip It Up, Issue 236, 1 April 1997, Page 26

BACKSEAT

Van Morrison probably thought he was going to be a one-hit wonder after his sunny 'Brown Eyed Girl' cracked the US Top 10 in 1967. Exiled from Belfast, lost and lonely in America, he used to phone late-night DJs in the Boston area and make slurred requests He always wanted the same artist: John Lee Hooker, the king of the 13-bar blues. Friends now for 30 years, the pair have finally got together for an extended session on Hooker’s Don’t Look Back (Pointblank). Morrison produces, finding a natural sound which is both pure and contemporary. Tasteful, understated, this is Van acknowledging his greatest influence (check out Hook's use of repetition). Hooker returns the compliment with the title track, a wonderful reading of his old song, using the same ■ arrangement Van did with his R&B band Them in 1965. Hooker and Morrison duet on three tracks, among them Van’s ‘The Healing Game’, which is also the title of his latest album. In his wraparound shades, Van looks like a sinister godfather of Tau Henare. But The Healing Game (Polygram) sees Van feeling as mellow as a glass of Bailey’s. Lately, he has been pumping out albums faster than Prince, with cloning being a legitimate accusation. But closer inspection reveals the musical references to his classic period. ‘Piper at the Gates' of Dawn’ is not a Pink Floyd tribute, but Morrison returning to the acoustic guitar lyricism of Veedon Fleece. He is still the best arranger of brass in white R&B, but the player stealing the show — Astral Weeks-styie — is the doublebassist, Alec Dankworth. A melancholy tone dominates, perhaps holding back the title track from being the first hymn to be a hit single. Although there is no exuberant ‘Days Like This’ or ‘Real Real Gone’, the relaxed, spontaneous 'lt Once Was My Life’ provides a welcome respite. Obligatory lyric namecheck: Tm not going to fake it like Johnny Ray.' Solomon Burke is a soul legend who has kept his cred without celebrityassisted comebacks or jeans ads. ‘Cry To Me’ was his biggest hit; Mick Jagger his most famous acolyte. The deep, rich timbre of Burke’s voice remains, making the title of Definition of Soul (Pointblank) acceptable, and his sly humour is also intact. With cameo appearances by Little Richard and producer Jerry Wexler, and plenty of 12/8 ballads, this is a solid return, if not definitive.

Similarly, The Book of Spells by the Boneshakers (Pointblank) may not be a dictionary of soul, but it's certainly an encyclopedia of R&B guitar licks. It displays the talents of Randy Jacobs, the black musician who was a key member of Was Not Was (and visited here as part of Paul Kelly’s 1994 band). This is a guitar showcase with a sense of groove; the fretwork could be Stevie Ray Vaughan with more sass and no pointless fireworks. Like most session musicians' vehicles, however, it needs a stonger octane of song to really get moving. An album with more strong songs than any of the above is Home Truths, by Wellington’s Bill Lake (Red Rocks/Jayrem). Lake’s melodic skills and deft acoustic guitar playing, plus Arthur Baysting’s believable lyrics, make this a collection of songs worthy of the influences which Infiltrate its Pacific blues sound (Lowell George. Ry Cooder, Pat McLaughlin. John Hiatt). The sympathetic production by bassist Nick Bollinger shows what can be achieved when astute musical judgements guide a well-bonded combo. The warm backing vocals emphasise this rapport, while Stephen Jessup’s subtle guitar leads and Bob Smith's Hammond organ lines weave the songs into your memory banks. The soulful standout, ‘That’s What Friends Are For', could be a lost, heartbreaking gem by Arthur Alexander. In a fair world, this would be played on New Zealand radio, heard by Rod Stewart one morning-after In Glenfield, and given the exposure it deserves.

CHRIS BOURKE