Days like these (scroll to btm & listen to link whilst reading)

You have to be on time. Years of experience leave us with nothing but the unknown: he could be late, there could be a support artist, the band could play with no front man for half an hour …who knows? Certainly not the aged beings who pack the foyer, the toilets and the bars; all loyal followers who have grown old with the Man. The only thing I know is that special friend and I have walked two miles on this chilly March night to see him. In more years than I care to remember, this is the 24th time.


We have great seats, four rows from the front: having been on the ‘alert list’ forever helps. We might be competing with the temporal Florence and the Machine over at the BIC, but the die-hards are out in force. The auditorium is packed with so many old folk that it looks like a SAGA convention.
The announcement regarding the ejection of would-be photographers coupled with the confiscation of equipment is repeated twice. It’s harsh and unforgiving. So is the Man. We know that. We don’t read the biographies which constantly relate what an unpleasant person our hero is. We don’t care. He’s not coming round ours for dinner.

The lights dim. The band walks on stage and even before they’ve assumed instruments, Van is here at precisely 7.45, the published start time. Straight into Brown Eyed Girl and we immediately know that this could be a goodie and not one of those random, self-indulgent jamming sessions that we occasionally have to witness. And we are treated.

There’s something about him tonight. He’s having a good time. And the band is tight. Moon Dance…it’s a fabulous night for one. All in the Name of Love evolving into This is It…superbly whispered and roaring to a climax. In the Garden…Oh my god, not heard since the Georgie Fame days and the audience cheering before three notes have passed is enough to elicit a rare ‘thank-you’ from the Man who never acknowledges the fans. And now, St James Infirmary Blues, defying all description; the audience silently entranced by the chocolate brown voice; this is when we know we are in the company of genius.

One and a half hours without a pause for breath and suddenly the stewards appear at the end of the rows. Van doesn’t require bouncers because we all know how to behave so what are these guys doing here? Could it be? No, surely not? But yes, the soulful blues and jazz give way to the familiar beat and it’s Gloria: GLORIA, Gloria. Well what do these stewards think they can do? This aged audience is on its feet as a worshipful whole and we dance where we’re standing.

And the Man leaves the stage and the lights go up. No guru, No teacher, No method and no encore. An hour and a half of sheer bliss and he’s gone.

 Buy the music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHZfWsdwKrY