Van Morrison does whatever he wants

What motivates you to keep playing when you are Van Morrison and you are already 80 years old? If we are to believe yesterday's concert at the Auditori del Fòrum, it seems that the Lion of Belfast's engine is the blues, which was already one of the fundamental colors of Morrison's music since the days of Them. In his debut at the Barcelona Jazz Festival, the Northern Irish musician's repertoire was tinged with electric Chicago blues and rhythm & blues, in line with his latest album, Somebody tried to sell me a bridge (2026).

The Rolling Stones, fellow generation artists with whom he shares musical roots in the Mississippi Delta, also released an album of blues covers a decade ago (Blue and lonesome, 2016), but on their comeback tour they barely played any songs from the album; instead, yesterday, Morrison opened the concert with five tracks from his latest album: covers of John Lee Hooker (Deep blue sea), Eddie Vinson (Kidney stew), B.B. King (Rock me baby), Junior Wells (Snatch it back and hold it) and Marie Adams (Play the honky tonks). Intense and flavorful blues performed by a sextet of excellent musicians who, on three songs, became an octet with the arrival of two wind players.

Morrison sings and alternates between alto saxophone and harmonica, and continues to be a master of all three instruments, especially his voice, still sublime. But a concert like yesterday's, with so much prominence for the musicians, allowed us to appreciate more than ever the raw and searing sound he extracts from the harmonica and saxophone. Even when he revisited the warm Little village from What’s wrong with this picture (2003), his saxophone solo had an abrupt, almost violent sonority; Van Morrison moved past the realm of virtuosity many years ago and now only pursues emotion.

The penultimate album by Morrison also occupied an important space in the repertoire, the notable Remembering now, from 2025, but influenced by the blues dynamic of the night and, therefore, full of space for solos and instrumental brilliance. In fact, it was not a concert that the audience will remember for the performance of this song or that one – despite celebrated revivals from Morrison's 80s catalog like Tore down a la Rimbaud and Foreign widow– but for moments of communion and intensity between the band and a singer more engaged than in previous visits. You only had to see him hitting the tambourine or directing the audience's applause at Going back to Geneva.

In the final flourish, however, a modern classic from the repertoire fell, such as Real real gone and the acclaimed Moondance, but with a surprising arrangement of broken rhythms close to Latin jazz. With over six decades of career, Morrison exudes absolute musical freedom that tramples over audience expectations or subservience to his songbook. The Lion of Belfast does as he pleases, and now he has felt like turning his concerts into an electrifying blues club. The obligatory finale with the immortal Glòria did not taste like a toll but like the natural culmination of a long love affair with the devil's music, which took an unexpected jazz turn when Morrison left the stage – with a "Thank you, muchas gracias", less awkward than usual– and his musicians continued improvising for a good 10 minutes, without rushing to end the concert.