#30: "Sweet Thing" - Van Morrison

“Hey, it's me, I'm dynamite and I don't know why"

Let’s get this out of the way: Van Morrison is now gross, toxic and someone I would hate to ever run into. After almost years of being revered, he has recently outed himself as a right-wing anti-Semite on new recordings. Morrison’s unpredictability, temper and bitterness have become the stuff of legend, including everything from smashing someone else’s guitar onstage during a show to firing members of his band with little notice or cause and confronting a journalist about their credentials during an interview.

Morrison has become an antivaxxer, a crank and apparent ally of QAnon. I hate to go back to the now overused proclamation of “separating art from the artist,” but some of my favorite songs and movies were created by despicable people. This is nothing new. I have done despicable things in my past as well, but I hope I will never be defined by them nor do I hope I am remembered as someone who did more harm than good. In essence, I’d rather just focus on the creation itself, not the politics or ideology of the creator. Obviously, I still needed to acknowledge that I no longer wish to support Van Morrison financially though.

That’s definitely not how Lester Bangs would’ve began his thoughts on Van Morrison. Especially back when Astral Weeks came out and his life was changed forever. It’s impossible to not cite Bangs’ influence on review writing forever. In fact, I’d say that around the time of Almost Famous is when I began to discover Astral Weeks for reasons that should be obvious. I even had separate conversations with rock journalists Greg Kot and Jim Derogatis over the phone in ways that reminded me of young Cameron Crowe reaching out to Lester Bangs. I wanted to know if pursuing a career in writing and journalism is something I should put my energy into. Then of course podcasting came along a few years later and life changed for me dramatically.

The album Astral Weeks celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2018. That’s the last time I played my vinyl of it because I feared that maybe I have listened it too much to where I no longer get that same euphoric feeling from it. But there are reasons that the songs on it remain so powerful and heartbreaking, particularly “Sweet Thing” for reasons that will get to. Overall, it’s just hard to realize that Mr. Morrison is not a “sweet thing” in any way, but he’s made some of the most romantic songs I've ever heard. For that reason alone, I have to praise him like I should. Bangs wrote one of the greatest reviews (or essays) that I’ve ever read and well, one of the most influential singers of my life, Jeff Buckley, is responsible for several Van covers as well. It all ties together in terms of the impact it’s had on me as a musician and music devotee.

"Sweet Thing," is a romantic ballad not about any one person in particular but about emotion. In a way, it’s kind of the opposite of “Brown-Eyed Girl,” though every bit as catchy (no “sha la las” though). This epitomizes that sincere, deep feeling of warm energy that arises as a result of doing several actions all in the pursuit of passion. The entire song really doesn’t vary in terms of dynamics or chords in any way - it sounds exactly like what it’s like to be in love—or at least, the blissful honeymoon period in which you constantly feel as though you are floating on some mystical cloud, never to come down. After all the heartache and disappointment, we will still pursue someone we’re drawn to again, all with the hope of finding and holding onto that love and romanticism described here. At the end of the day, we’re all just dreamers of the dream. 

I remember going to a Chicago record store with my partner and doing the ridiculous High Fidelity-like declaration of, “if you do not own this record, then your collection is incomplete.” I think back to moments like that and cringe now. These days I can simply say, hopefully you have heard this record and/or have it saved in your Spotify playlist. I’m not a purist. I stream movies and I listen to music on my iPhone. The availability and luxury is a good thing. I know it’s not the best quality but the song itself exists there on-demand. Going back to listening to the entirety of Astral Weeks over a casual stroll by the beach was instant euphoria and when “Sweet Things” comes along, all I do is think of the past in a positive light.

And I will stroll the merry wayAnd jump the hedges firstAnd I will drink the clearClean water for to quench my thirst

That’s all it takes - the idea of rolling through the open fields and eventually finding a way to hydrate. But the quenching is more like finding the right person after being thirsty for connection. I wrote a song called “Thirsty for Anything,” as a way to represent a desire to be a part of something other than myself. I’ve always thought that I’m independent, solitary and not-in-need of the company of others. Then I realized, I look forward to seeing people at work. I look forward to going to the movies and running into someone there. In a way, I’ve been thirsty for humanity - where we look in each other eyes and be real and fully present. In a way “Sweet Thing,” is about the feeling of being in-the-moment and in love.

Musically, it’s nothing that remarkable outside of the sliding of the orchestral strings popping up to complement the E-major to A-major structure. I know Morrison did just all his tracks alone and everything was overdubbed later. But it really does convey the feeling of a symphony in the same room, jamming out and experiencing some sense of rapture in the art of creating a truly stunning ballad. There is a feeling of renewal and faith restored - faith in another human being, though it’s not anyone specific. We’re just focused inward despite all the physical movement outward.

The music swells as the singer gets more and more excited about his sweet thing (his sugar baby), and the imagery becomes more intense. It’s a progression of joy. We can each know what that’s like even if sometimes, our love is unrequited. There were times when I’d be in love with someone that I knew wouldn’t love me back, but it didn’t matter. To be in their presence automatically created a sense of adulation and warmth. Unrealized love is a blessing and a curse. Grateful to have experienced the feeling (and the presence of the object of our affection) but cursed to never have it reciprocated the way we envisioned in our minds.

That’s happened several times throughout my life. Or I have experienced love that was woefully misguided in a way that caused harm. No one thinks about that while they’re in the thick of it. Love trumps reason, logic and common sense. It basically becomes socially accepted insanity. We even say things like, “I’d die without you,” though perhaps what’s even worse, we will live on with the pain of love lost. Our dreams, our memories and songs will trigger that form of time travel all over again. But “Sweet Thing” is about the wonders of actually gaining love that seems to have bubbled to the surface to the point of being overwhelmed. Sometimes we want to be overwhelmed with kindness and bliss.

“Sweet Thing” has meaning that is somehow emphasized by a defiant fade, and its unwillingness to conclude and to stop growing. The love evolves even if the song dissolves. As the music disappears, it continues to climb, with Larry Fallon’s string arrangements here being particularly, intuitively sympathetic to the entire mood of the song. It’s a true blue mood piece of the highest caliber. Any time I listen, the now inevitable goosebumps feel like the gift that keeps on giving. “And I will never grow so old again” - immortalized love. This song is timeless. The sentiment is positive, even giddy, in contrast to much of the rest of the album. But I can’t stop living inside the comfort and joy of what “Sweet Thing” truly is. It’s a celebration, a declaration and a way to specifically do more than just say three words. It is the sound of what it is like to be unabashedly in love. Too bad its creator is now full of hate.