1) It isn't perfectly played.
2) The songs aren't polished.
3) It isn't Van's strongest collection of songs.

First of all, it isn't necessary for great music to be note-perfect. ASTRAL WEEKS is about the magic of improvisation-- the suspended thrill of playing (and listening) on the cusp of discovery. In that way, the album is a perfect marriage of music and lyrics, as Van bends and twists the language in an effort to TRANSCEND the earthly significance of his words, to conjure a piece of heaven out of the frustration and pain that wracks his existence. Like Ray Charles did 15 years prior, Van fuses gospel and blues, the sacred and the profane.

For those of you hear only hippy-dippy (...), you're obviously missing the unbearable heartache that haunts these songs. Cypress Avenue deals with unrequited, perhaps forbidden love. Madame George captures the mixture of joy and sadness that comes with lost innocence, getting on "the train" that takes one away from a place of safety and comfort. Ballerina is a burst of effusive passion, but the object of the singer's affection is separate from him, a spectral fantasy that he can only gaze on with paralyzed amazement. Thank god these rough gems weren't polished for radio consumption-- their unique, spontaneous quality would have been ruined.

I concede that this isn't Van's strongest collection of songs, but it's hard to think of these tracks as "songs" in the conventional sense-- impressionistic sketches, maybe, but they hardly lose any artistic merit because of that. ASTRAL WEEKS is not a jazz album, but it certainly brandishes a jazz mentality-- the triumph of feel over form, emotional release over craftsmanship. If that's not your cup of tea, then proceed directly to MOONDANCE. But if you're searching for a true musical journey-- in the truest sense of the word-- then ASTRAL WEEKS is the apogee.


Avalon Music   April 3, 1999
Ian Low Boon Tian (Singapore)
98 out of 120 found this review helpful

After nearly three decades, Astral Weeks remains the most mysterious, mystical and ultimately, most beautiful record ever made. Eight songs that flow effortlessly like one long hymn, creating a sense of mood and atmosphere that is as sensuous as it is timeless. Van Morrison visits and revisits places from his memories like long lost friends, delivering us a panoramic performance of thoughts and dreams drenched in a haze of uncompromising music. The stream of consciousness that lies underneath the entire record is almost reminiscent of another Irishman's masterpiece, James Joyce's Ulysses. Both recall familiar places in Ireland, and both seem at times, almost innocent and childlike. What Van Morrison has managed to do is to take this same haphazard collection of thoughts, and put it to music that is at once passionate and intense. The music on the album is the kind that is almost impossible to categorise. Is it folk? Sounds like it. But listen closely, and you will discover the magnificent bass playing by Richard Davis pointing towards jazz. Drummer Connie Kay's accompaniment is hardly standard rock and roll fare. Then there is also the classical strings and swirling flutes punctuating the songs on the album that rises above everything the Beatles ever attempted on their own records. As for Van's voice, let's just say it is feverish blues at its most supreme. It brings the same chills to my bones as when I first heard Robert Johnson singing "A Kindhearted Woman's Blues". The opening guitar strums to the title track is so deceptively simple and folksy, that it doesn't really prepare the first time listener for what is to follow. And what follows is simply breathtaking. In fact, it is so dense and sophisticated that on first listen, it is actually inaccessible. Yet, it is this inaccessibility that somehow stirs our curiosity during our initiation into this sonic journey. The mystical poetry reaches a state of surrealism, mixed with references to real life persons and places. "Astral Weeks" speaks of being reborn, as if the opening song is just a beginning. But of what, no one really knows. And that includes Van the Man himself. But the stunning words and phrases are fascinating, almost infectious. "If I travel in the slipstream, between the viaducts of your dreams..." is almost as thrilling as the opening words of Dylan's "Like A Rolling Stone". The entire song seems to move endlessly like a river, taking you along for the ride, but never letting you know where you are actually heading. It is the perfect start to a perfect album of songs. Listen to the songs again, and you might just wonder if some of the songs are songs at all. "Beside You" hardly seems to have the traditional verse and bridge structure. In fact, he seems to be like improvising all the time. And the way his vocals whisper and soar throughout the whole song, it seems like he is capable of every muscular vocal trick in the book. "You breathe in, you breathe out, you breathe in, you breathe out...." he repeats, makes us as breathless as he suggests. "Sweet Thing" is hardly sweet. The way the strings come raining down in the middle of the song, it is just as vicious as the strings employed in Lennon's "How Do You Sleep?" There, Lennon's attack at his former collaborator was mean and direct, and Phil Spector's arrangement simply heightened the sour emotions further. Here, it serves as an irony to the heartfelt longing that the singer is desperately trying to convey to his lover. It is like saying that nothing can be that wonderful without a taste of bitterness. Yet, despite this, it is beautiful. Especially when he suggests taking a walk in "the gardens all wet with rain". The start and stop nature of "Cyprus Avenue" seems perfectly suited to Van's stream of consciousness. Recalling in his mind his recollections of his childhood, Van spits out the words to a bed of musical dreamscape. A mixture of Celtic mysticism and soulful rock and roll that seems unlikely, but ultimately, natural bedfellows. The build-up of the song, from an acoustic softness to an eventual climatic burst, is as fragmented as it is seamless. In concerts, he would end this song with the catchphrase from a later song, "It's too late to stop now...". With this kind of powerful and passionate performance, you almost wish he would never stop. The conclusion of "Cyprus Avenue" ends the optimistic first half of the journey in clouded uncertainty. Just like the Beach Boys' seminal Pet Sounds, Astral Weeks also treads on an emotional arc from start to finish. What seems like the first flush of love or perhaps, the enthusiasm of a new and bright relationship is at this point turning to self-doubt. The rest of the record will then gradually document the descent of this ambiguous relationship. What this relationship is about does not really matter in the end. Maybe a lover, maybe a kin or maybe a friend. All we know is Van is singing to an entity that he cherishes at the beginning. With "The Way That Young Lovers Do", he is questioning this entity about the virtues of their relationship. If not lyrically, at least he is doing it musically. Horns flourish amidst a big band jazzy backdrop, haunting yet hurried. Doubt is now slowly evolving into frustration. "Madame George" is simply the album's most brilliant moment. Much debate over the title character's gender has been made and it is almost pointless to ponder over it. Whether "Madame George" is based on a real person or not, I guess we will never know. And Van doesn't care. If anything, she or he sounds like a character that has walked out from Victorian London into late 60s Ireland. Cyprus Avenue is revisited again as Van recites a "childlike vision" creeping into him and us as well. Strangely enough, when Marianne Faithfull covers this song, it sounds as it is almost autobiographical. Yet in Van Morrison's third person narrative, it seems like an epic tale being recalled in a haze of smoky psychedelia that defines logic and reality. Is "Madame George" really a transvestite? Van probably didn't think about it when he wrote it, and for some reason, he sang it as "Madame Joy" instead. It is precisely this sub-consciousness that we are supposed to experience, not factual details or logic. The album's penultimate track, "Ballerina" is another exercise in vocal dynamics and musical finesse. As the xylophone makes its way stealthily around the song, Van's voice swoops up and down like a preying eagle, waiting to devour the song's protagonist. We don't so much as try to understand but experience the music and the words on display. And what a vibrant and aggressive vocal display it is, always interesting and vivid throughout the seven minutes of soulful deliverance. "Slim Slow Slider" seems almost inappropriate at first to close this masterwork. Bluesy and simplistic in structure, Davis' bass just seem to suspend in mid-air, then bounce with an eerie-like tone. The song is darkly sinister in nature as Van recalls yet another place from his memories, this time being Ladbroke Grove. Just hearing Van singing these two words is almost worth the price of admission alone. That anguished passion in his voice, it is almost unearthly. Towards the end of the track and the record as a whole, the drums suddenly come crashing down like a deranged madman. It is almost the relationship that was promised in the opening track and reaffirmed in "Beside You" is now beyond repair. Utter insanity has taken over and Van has lost all sense of self-control and time. It is like this abrupt ending is just beginning a new adventure elsewhere. Are we supposed to resolve the destiny of Astral Weeks ourselves, after Van has taken us so far on this musical ride? Perhaps the answer is not really that important. What is more significant is that the music, words and voice of Astral Weeks are forever embedded in our minds and souls. At least, to those of us who have chosen to treasure it. It is not an easy record to listen to, as it is not meant to be. But there lies within this strange hypnotic album, a sense of time and place that is beyond our normal realms and reach. Astral Weeks may not sound like rock music, but its place in rock history cannot be ignored or denied. Like Van said, it belongs to "another time, another place". And most definitely, a better place than where all of us are living now. A place that is as mythical as it is timeless. Van Morrison would probably call that place Avalon. Close your eyes now and listen for it. Listen for that Avalon Music. Ian Low 18th November 1998


My desert island disc   October 2, 1998
Robert Moore (Chicago, IL USA)
32 out of 34 found this review helpful

This album has repeatedly turned up in the top ten of lists of the greatest albums ever recorded, and deservedly so. It can be listened to on so many levels. Sometimes I will listen to it while concentrating on the lyrics. Another time, I will focus on Van's phrasing. Another time on Richard Davis's inconceivably great bass playing (this is arguably the greatest performance on bass on any album ever recorded for a rock audience, even if the bass player was a jazz musician). This is an album that simply reeks of genius. Simply put: a masterpiece.


Beyond a "Classic"   September 23, 1999
Chris Lauer(cflauer@us.ibm.com) (Atlanta, Ga.)
21 out of 22 found this review helpful

This album is unlike anything else ever recorded. It's unorthodox, uncompromising and unforgettable. Van had finally freed himself of the creative stifling he'd had with Them and his recordings with Bang. One gets the feeling that this was a rare event: a chance intersection of a young artist reeling in inspiration allowed to work with a group of seasoned musical veterans who knew how to bring that inspiration to its fruition. Subsequently, Van was able to successfully achieve a unique jazz/folk sound highlighted by stream-of-consciousness lyrics with potent word-images. The lyrics rarely come close to making sense but always move the listener, tickling their mind. The emotion conveyed by Van's vocals is strong. We feel a rebirth when Van sings "It's easy to be born again". We feel comforted when Van sings "I'll stand beside you" and we feel in love when he sings "(we)dreamed of the way that I was for you and you were for me..." And we finish off the song cycle feeling the depth of despair when Van intones "I know you're dying/And I know that you know it too/Everytime I see you/I just don't know what to do..." In a few seconds of song he accomplishes what it took him 9 minutes to do on the Bang recording's "T.B. Sheets". I don't know if I'd call it the greatest album ever or the most influential album ever, but for me it stands as the most magical album ever as well as the greatest example of the pure artistic talent of Van Morrison.


A Colossal Bore   January 26, 2002
Kurt Harding (Boerne TX)
18 out of 68 found this review helpful

I've been a Van Morrison fan since his days with Them, and think I have heard everything he has recorded, so I feel qualified to offer an educated opinion of Astral Weeks.
For years I have been reading all the critical claptrap about how Astral Weeks is one of the seminal albums of the 60's, how it is far and away the best album Van has ever recorded, and how it belongs in every serious music fan's collection. Such nonsense! Advanced for its day it may have been, but the music now seems tired and dated.
I own Astral Weeks and I do listen occasionally, but it is not anywhere near his best. On this CD as on a few others, Van tends to maunder on endlessly making much of the album a colossal bore. For stream-of-consciousness singing, the later Veedon Fleece is far superior.
Astral Weeks is one of those albums that has received so many critical hosannas from the "experts" that it seems many shrink from criticizing its lack of depth and direction for fear of being accused of not "getting it". It is also one of those albums every Van Morrison fan has heard of, but also one which few of them have actually listened to. I've had people tell me what a great album it is yet not be able to tell me anything about it except that "everybody says" it is one of the best.
Its time to desanctify Astral Weeks. Its not a terrible album, but Van Morrison has issued at least 20 better.
If you are a fan who prefers Van Morrison's bluesier, jazzier albums to the mystical meanderings of Veedon Fleece, Common One, or No Guru, No Method, No Teacher then maybe you should try to listen to this first before buying.