‘Latest Record Project: Volume 1’ by Van Morrison Review: Songs in the Key of Conspiracy

We got a hint that something strange was going on with late-era Van Morrison when he called a 2015 release “Duets: Re-Working the Catalogue.” It found the Northern Irish singer-songwriter revisiting deep cuts from earlier in his career with partners like Steve Winwood and George Benson, but the album’s title sounded like something scribbled at the top of a recording executive’s marketing memo. It was as if Mr. Morrison was acknowledging that his records were merely contractual obligations. But while the record’s name suggested a lack of inspiration, his actual performances on the collection—and on the six albums he’s put out since—are impassioned and committed. Even when he seems to be going through the motions, his voice, which has held up astonishingly well for someone who is 75 years old, keeps the distinctive spark heard on legendary songs like “Brown Eyed Girl,” “Moondance” and “ Jackie Wilson Said (I’m in Heaven When You Smile).”

On Friday, Mr. Morrison releases another offering with a less-than-creative title: “Latest Record Project: Volume 1” (Exile BMG) is his 42nd studio LP. Befitting the perfunctory appellation, it comes packaged with a cover whose bland geometric design could easily have graced a package of blank CD-Rs in 2005. It follows a trio of songs he issued in 2020, all of which decried government lockdowns in the face of the Covid-19 pandemic. Those aren’t included here, but most of this material has a similarly ill-tempered spirit.

The lyrics on “Latest Record Project”—an epically long collection, with 28 tracks that stretch for over two hours—are filled with bile, and much of his ire has a conspiratorial tone. For those who don’t get enough of people complaining about such things on social media platforms, now we have a Van Morrison album that lays out perceived injustices, large and small, in song.

Mr. Morrison has long been attuned to slights, so there’s nothing especially new about him airing grievances in music—he did, after all, open his spiritually minded 1991 LP “Hymns to the Silence” with a number called “Professional Jealousy,” directed at those whom he perceived were envious of his success. But here, almost everything except outrage has fallen away, and we’re left only with a laundry list of complaints.

Musically, the record features Mr. Morrison’s typical mélange of R&B, jazz and folk, but blues is the predominant mode, and about half the tracks hew to 12-bar form. His band is solid and professional, with a blend of guitar, piano, organ and backing vocalists, but “Latest Recording Project” sounds strange. Whether because of Covid-19 restrictions or some other reason, the arrangements are so low-key they often sound preprogrammed. However, despite the cheap and sour lyrical content and rinky-dink sonics, Mr. Morrison sings remarkably well. But his virtuosity as a vocalist puts the album’s other shortcomings in sharper relief. Hearing his legendary tenor on clunky lines like “Can we say that you’re clinically insane / Can you still even use your brain” in “Psychoanalysts’ Ball” drives home just how trite these songs are.

As the album unwinds, Mr. Morrison asks “Where Have All the Rebels Gone?” (hint: you won’t find them behind computer screens); ponders the unseen forces that control our lives (“The Long Con,” “Big Lie”); and rails against the two-faced people in his life (“Double Agent,” “Double Bind,” “Duper’s Delight”). On “Only a Song,” a melodic uptempo number with a harmonic structure similar to his 1971 hit “Wild Night,” he suggests that his work shouldn’t necessarily be taken seriously (“It’s what I said then just to make it rhyme / Something’s on my mind at the time”), but the relentless negativity is oppressive and impossible to escape. The only place he seems to find solace is in music—see “Thank God for the Blues” and his adaptations of two compositions by master guitarists working in that form, Elmore James (“It Hurts Me Too”) and Buddy Guy (“My Time After a While”).

The final section of “Latest Record Project” is its most depressing stretch. After the cranky “Stop Bitching, Do Something,” Mr. Morrison touches on the fall of “Western Man” (“While he was dreaming, others were scheming / Doing deals behind his back”) and offers parting thoughts on the role of the information industry in our current misery with “They Own the Media” and “Why Are You on Facebook?” He ends with “Jealousy,” wherein he calls out those who envy him because, in his words, “I’m not a slave to the system like you.” As this set mercifully comes to a close, dedicated Van Morrison fans are forced to confront the ominous implications of the “Volume 1” subtitle: “There are 28 tracks here, but I recorded over 50,” he says in a press note. “I’ll probably put out another double album after this one.” In lieu of exploring this hopefully brief phase of his career, we might instead ponder the silence Mr. Morrison once exalted.

—Mr. Richardson is the Journal’s rock and pop music critic.