Connecting with nature after a bustling experience in New York, Van Morrison uses Tupelo Honey first as a longing to embrace the outdoors and second as a farewell to the Big Apple. Here are the reasons for his departure, laid bare by the clear want heard throughout these songs, of grandiose parks and quiet trails simply not attainable in New York. His disillusionment with the Woodstock area, particularly after the festival of the same name which his hero, Bob Dylan, had snubbed, leaves Morrison as one of the many outsiders to the impact of the festival. Escapism is the clear aim of this – to remove himself from the bustle of a once calm area, both his place of work and his home. With pressure mounting for further hits, Tupelo Honey is a make-or-break album and, thankfully, it remains a phenomenal piece of work.
His later distaste for Tupelo Honey may be the age-old experience of disliking the period itself. Like Paul McCartney with Back to the Egg, the darker pockets of the time are still overshadowing what is quality work relying on a big band feel. From being coaxed onto the stage and holding this “show must not go on,” thought process to the “boogie woogie” blues rock of the opening song Wild Night, the two sides of Morrison have never been made clearer. Light and loose instrumentals, each of them hoping for the grapevine to tell them of the news rather than being plugged right into it in New York, comes clear on (Straight to Your Heart) Like a Cannonball. His heart yearns for the old days. Clear this is on Old Old Woodstock, Morrison manages to maintain some developments of raw honesty removed from the title. Those hopeful and wistful piano notes are a nice drop for the country-like momentum here.
It all leads up to the short yet brilliant Starting a New Life, a warm embrace of the new country life. As much an open-armed appreciation for a fresh genre styling as it is an acceptance of moving down the line and away from a part of the world which served him. But like a shark or his idol Dylan, staying still is not an option. To keep moving is what the greats do and with the risky material made up on Tupelo Honey, Morrison continues his charismatic shift to pastures new, a necessary change of tempo and tone. You’re My Woman feels like a soft and possessive reply to the out-there and superior Just Like a Woman from Blonde on Blonde. A misstep from Morrison here, though the only one of the album, which remains very firm in its country-adjacent thrills on the B-Side.
Saxophone thrills and the usual, heart-wrenching spills from Morrison make up the best parts of Tupelo Honey. A brilliant tribute heard on the title track and some strong instrumental overlapping on Tupelo Honey is what makes it such an extraordinary album. Sadly snubbed by the modern-day man, Morrisson works with broad strokes and dots those specifics in intermittently, the sort of detail that only gets better as time goes on. Ignore Moonshine Whiskey and the bubble-making attempts. This country album of Morrison’s is more a soft rock and blues mixture than anything, though his few natural remedies, the great outdoors and the peace that comes with it, tie him close to the fundamentals of a genre he would fool around with in time to come.
