"Morrison returned to the studio for 1995´s Days Like This,
and early listenings lure you into believing that he has managed to recapture
the inspirational vibe of his best work. "Perfect Fit," the
opener, seems to embody all of the confidence and high spirits found on
"Bright Side of the Road" from Into the Music. Tenor saxophonist
Pee Wee Ellis, returning after a decade-long absence, has an immediate
impact: the horns sound great. The bass guitar leaps from the speakers,
and Van´s harmonica seems ready to take on the world. There are
many sweet sounds here, but the listener leaves the table hungry. In quick
succession, beginning with the vacuous but sonorous "Perfect Fit,"
Van tosses off songs whose pleasing veneer conceals a hollow core.
Those who are still listening closely as the album passes the halfway
point, however, are rewarded. The title song turns a common expression
and famous pop song chorus on its head. Usually, the phrase "My momma
told me there´d be days like this" is something you say to
make yourself feel better at the end of a tough day: the implication is
that a good day might be just around the corner. The singer, steeling
himself against disappointments and letdowns, does not want to feel too
good on the good days: "When all the parts of the puzzle start to
seem like they fit / Then I must remember there´ll be days like
this." Keep an ear peeled for one of Morrison´s best sax solos.
This odd manipulation of positive and negative continues into "Underlying
Depression" and "Melancholia." The former tacks post-Dylan
self-analysis onto a sweet Motown vibe culled from Smokey Robinson &
The Miracles while the latter is an eccentric gem. With a horn part as
gorgeous as anything on Beautiful Vision and some moving echo vocals by
Brian Kennedy and James Huntsman, Van sings the word "Melancholia"
over and over in the chorus, serenely caressing each syllable as if he
were whispering a lover´s name. In doing so, he seems to banish
his dark mood.
The neglected epic "Ancient Highway" is in the grand tradition
of "Listen to the Lion" and "You Don´t Pull No Punches."
Over a dusky, Spanish-sounding melody, a quiet rhythm section, muted trumpet,
and recorder, Morrison projects images of a Friday night in Belfast when
all of the workers are heading home and the musicians´ shift is
just beginning. Morrison talks of the "dues of the organ grinder
jam" and links himself to endless generations of musicians. Though
the singer is the grateful recipient of "trancelike visions,"
he is haunted by a "nightmare hurt" and a desire to "slip
away down that ancient highway." It is here that Van stumbles on
the limitations of nostalgia and remembrance just as he did almost a decade
earlier on No Guru No Method No Teacher. While all of Morrison´s
albums from the early 90´s had expressed a desire to go back to
childhood and early adolescence when "everything made more sense"
and he was most capable of experiencing the elusive "sense of wonder,"
the memory in "Ancient Highway" is of being older, of feeling
isolated and restless, of needing to leave home and childhood behind forever,
and he is afraid of failure: "I keeping praying to my higher self,
don´t let me down..."
For the last song, Morrison comes back to adulthood and deliberately revisits
the afternoon light and isolated room of "Melancholia," but
this time he feels anything but despair: "I wanna make love to you
/ In the afternoon..." and so an album which began so weakly, finishes
with an extended flourish of Morrison´s genius."(Scott Thomas)
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