Listen to The Lion

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"Tell me something," Bruce Springsteen asked a while ago. "How come every year or so there's a new Van Morrison record, and every time it's great, and every time no one pays attention? Why is that?"

Good question. And there are some easy answers. Morrison is too demanding -- an eccentric performer who is likely to sing his best songs with his back turned. Too personal. Too unpredictable. Not quite presentable. And way too spiritual.

But Morrison does not make easy music, and he deserves more than easy answers. Especially now, when he has just released a new album, a 21-song, two-CD, 96-min. masterpiece, Hymns to the Silence (Polydor), that has actually crept onto the Billboard charts. It's no threat to Guns N' Roses, mind you, but at least it has made a showing. There's even a rumor that it's getting played on the radio.

Springsteen's question still pertains, however, even in the midst of these glad tidings. Morrison has been making music for more than a quarter-century, since he left his native Belfast in 1961 to sing R. and B. to G.I.s stationed in Germany. He fronted a fine Beatles-era band called Them, then went solo and traveled to America. There he flirted with the mainstream before recording Astral Weeks in 1969, an album that set what was to be, for him, a more or less unvarying pattern: wild record, wild-eyed reviews, loyal but limited audience. Since then, he has wandered in the U.S., England and Ireland (where he now lives) but has never had a commercial breakthrough commensurate with his talent.

Even Bob Dylan, Morrison's only serious rival as a prickly, personal songwriter, has enjoyed bouts of superstardom during his perpetual period of transition. Morrison, whether singing on the bright side of the road or deep from the heart of his dark and beautiful vision, does not hold out a helping hand to an audience. Reaching down into himself seems more important to him than reaching out.

He extends himself only to express himself. Alone among rock's great figures -- and even in that company he is one of the greatest -- Morrison is adamantly inward. And unique. Although he freely crosses musical boundaries -- R. and B., Celtic melodies, jazz, rave-up rock, hymns, down-and-dirty blues -- he can unfailingly be found in the same strange place: on his own wavelength.

; For anyone interested in getting serious about Morrison (no casual listeners need apply), his new set can be heartily recommended as a good way to start an obsession. Hymns focuses and redefines Morrison's themes over his long career, rather like a museum retrospective already in progress. It dips deep into autobiography, spiritual speculation and blues mythology for its themes.