Top 10 Van Albums: #6, Veedon Fleece

By the time that Van released Veedon Fleece in 1974, his career was gaining the momentum of a mighty steam train. Moondance, His Band and Street Choir, and Saint Dominic's Preview were all commercial triumphs, and his reputation as a cosummate stage performer was spreading. It comes as somewhat of a surprise, then, that Van would choose to release the sparse-sounding Veedon Fleece as his reply to such a flourishing period in his life. Veedon Fleece was never destined to be a commercial success, as nearly every track is down-tempo, the arrangements are exiguous, and there are no discernible radio singles among the bunch. Gone are the ornate arrangements of Moondance and the jumpy rhythm and blues of His Band and Street Choir. Instead, Van offers up lyrically introspective tracks, woven together with a fusion of soft jazz and folk; for comparison, the overall feel of the album is somewhat akin to Astral Weeks.

"Fair Play" begins the album with a jazzy flush of acoustic guitars and piano. It's a relaxing sound that seems fit for a warm spring afternoon. The arrangement is subtly complex, and the instruments mingle together to great a wandering, enchanting sound. "Fair Play" flows effortlessly into the moody "Linden Arden Stole the Highlights," in which Van tells the bizarre story of a man who is attacked on a San Francisco street, and "takes the law into his own hands." On the surface, the story of "Linden Arden" seems straightforward and uncomplicated, with a linear plot and an unresolved conclusion. However, it is in this particular song that Van drops the first of many hints throughout his career regarding a perceived cruel and callous world that he is living in. In later albums, such as The Healing Game and Back On Top, we see Van elaborate on the story told throughout Veedon Fleece, about a world that is crumbling down around him.

"Who Was That Masked Man?" is a mere sequel to "Linden Arden Stole the Highlights," expounding on the burdens of "living with a gun." The entire duration of the song, much like the playful and endearing "Warm Love," is sung in falsetto, yet the effect is much different this time around; Van sounds brooding and disconsolate. "Streets of Arklow" and "You Don't Pull No Punches, But You Don't Push the River" fit together nicely, and adopt an even more ominous, menacing tone than their predecessors. "Streets of Arklow" actually sounds like a gypsy anthem, with an arrangement that is plodding and mysterious. The intiricate sounds of the flute in "You Don't Pull No Punches" present an entrancing, yet ultimately inaccessible melody. As he does in the album's opener, Van continues to pluck out childhood symbols and personal heroes, which make many of the tunes lyrically unapproachable for the listener. Van, at times, seems to be on a completely different wavelength than his audience, and much of Veedon Fleece exposes that quality in his songwriting.

After a slew of sleepy but beautiful smooth jazz numbers, Van literally wakes us up with the catchy and fun "Bulbs." Placed strategically at the center of the album, it is the only up-tempo song. The pace of the song is dictated by the jangling acoustic guitar and the bubbling base guitar, and they play off of one another to create the feeling of a motor car, speeding down a hilly contry lane. The songs that follow, "Cul de Sac" and "Comfort You," restore the album to its lumbering pace. "Cul de Sac" is a tour de force of vocal performances, and Van's performance soars, growls, wails, and utterly amazes. It is the most passionate rendering on Veedon Fleece, and indeed one of the finest of his entire catalogue. "Comfort You" plays like a loyal companion to its antecedent, as the base line is nearly the same, and although the songwriting lacks complexity, it is beautiful nonetheless.

"Come Here My Love" is not among the strongest tracks on Veedon Fleece, as it seems to putter in place without ever going anywhere. Van gives a hushed and understated vocal delivery, which adds to its underwhelming sense. Finally, "Country Fair" ends the album in much the same fashion as it began: quiet and unassuming. The song reads like a strem-of-consciousness poem, and the music is airy and ethereal. The flute and plucked guitar slide along quietly, much like a delicate stream.

Veedon Fleece, for all practical purposes, is a tale of two separate albums: pre-"Bulbs" and post-"Bulbs." The first five tracks on the album are comparable to a five act play; the songs are not entirely separate from one another, as they all work together to create a single feeling and texture. Taken apart from the album itself, a song like "Who Was That Masked Man?" would not stand alone as one of Van's greatest. However, when pinched in between "Linden Arden Stole the Highlights" and "Streets of Arklow," it serves a masterful connecting track, impeccably linking one song to the next. While the songs comprising the first half of the album rely on one another for mood and effect, the final five tracks on Veedon Fleece each stand alone as separate and deserving achievements in musicianship. Although the sounds of each song are not far departed from the next, they each convey separate thoughts and attitudes. "Bulbs" would not seem out of place on a Van Morrison compilation album, and neither would "Cul de Sac" or "Comfort You," for that matter. Can the same be said for "Who Was That Masked Man?"

Veedon Fleece is Van's underappreciated masterpiece. Everyone's heard of Astral Weeks and Moondance, and rightfully so; however, this album ranks alongside them in musical merit. To the careful listener, it seems as if Van may have had one foot in another universe during these sessions, and the result is a loose, soulful, and nearly sublime work of art.