Why I think ‘Sweet Thing’ by Van Morrison is an aural embodiment of what love feels like
Getting soppy with ‘Celtic Soul’
My dad and my step mum have the happiest marriage I have ever encountered. They rarely fight and when they do it’s simply an inane bicker about picking up crumbs or taking a long time to get dressed. In fact even those incidents are the most loving arguments I have ever witnessed. The real testament to their commitment comes from the fact that they are completely at a loss without each other. My step mum recently went on holiday for ten days and it was framed as a Greek tragedy. Instead of a week and a half of joy in the sunshine the trip was treated as if it was a small break in a Nazi death camp as she burst into tears even at the thought of being separated from her husband. After she left my father came out with what is at once the most sickeningly sugary statement he has ever made while also a level of emotion I one day aspire to experience. ‘It took us years to find each other, we shouldn't be apart for any longer’.
This all takes me back to their wedding day in August 2010 when I sat in awe (drinking my tenth contraband rum and coke passed underhand by a family friend with a nudge and wink) watching their first dance. My dad has regularly included ‘Astral Weeks’ in his list of favourite albums and it had always been a confusing entry for me. It wasn't an album he would play in the car and force onto me like Surfer Rosa, OK Computer, or even Led Zeppelin IV — it was an album that had a quiet confidence, one that was important to him but not at all flashy. ‘Astral Weeks’ seemed like a personal favourite, the kind that you don’t talk about or try to share. An album that’s just deeply touching on an emotional level. Until his wedding day all I knew about my father’s relationship with ‘Van The Man’ was that he had once seen him live in a castle of some sort. This had not prepared me for the image of my dad and his new wife slowly dancing to ‘Sweet Thing’, an image and even more so a sound sample of joy, happiness, and adoration.
The almost mythical ‘first dance’ is one of the most symbolic wedding day rituals. The first foray into celebration and a life together through the medium of moving your feet to some music. There’s something special about the way the couple start off on a lone dancefloor, joined together in matrimony against the world, only to be surrounded by their loved ones by the end of the song. The first dance celebrates the fact that love comes in many shapes and sizes, although the romance between the two in the spotlight is the root of the celebration it would be nothing without friendship and family’s supporting roles.
‘Sweet Thing’ was a special choice and that day has firmly etched the song into my own romantic oeuvre. The lone strum of the acoustic guitar in its genesis. The transition towards the climax with the introduction of the bass, the violins, and especially the flutes. The flutes result in this song’s unbelievable resemblance to paradise, bringing forth images of cherubs blowing on wind instruments and flowering fauna. The lyrics make this song what it is. Morrison is inducted into the Songwriter Hall Of Fame for beautiful words like these. My personal highlight is when he sings (with an almost unrivaled passion and sincerity) the second verse.
‘ And I shall drive my chariot
Down your streets and cry
‘Hey, it’s me, I’m dynamite
And I don’t know why’ ‘
These four lines say it all. Looking past any resemblance to a creepy sexual innuendo, this is great poetry. Van Morrison plays with heroic imagery, highlighting the importance of vulnerability and openness in his relationship. Van Morrison’s interpretation of love is all honesty, courageously accepting how his beloved makes him feel and admitting that it’s confusing to him. Love doesn't result in cliche, not in this song. Van doesn't feel like a blossoming flower or anything else overused and cringe inducing. Van feels volatile and pent up, like he is about to explode with emotion at any second. Most of all, he’s unclear why it’s even happening. Other love songs act like they know it all, as if the songwriter has a blueprint laid out in front of them when in reality confusion is at the heart of everything we do. Our feelings are foggy and unclear, and when you’re married and slow dancing with the love of your life it’s still unpredictable and complex. That’s worth celebrating.
I for one will never be able to get married unless I can listen to the opening notes of this song and immediately bring forth memories of some special girl. That’ll be my test. Half cut in a corner watching my dad, I never doubted that my stepmother was the one for him. If I ever get the chance to play this song at my wedding, I hope my guests experience the same epiphany. Each to their own though, my grandad was appalled at the song choice and commented that they ‘should have got some Johnny Cash’. My stepmother line dancing to ‘Ring of Fire’ in a wedding dress may have made me even happier than ‘Sweet Thing’ did.