On the way to forging his own way in music, Van Morrison penned a sentimental ditty called “Brown Eyed Girl.” Sung with gusto over a simple, three-chord melody, the song remains Morrison’s biggest hit 50 years later. “Brown Eyed Girl” is still sung around campfires and is an oldies station staple, but I think it’s one of the Belfast singer’s worst songs.
Engineered by record label management, it’s formulaic and bland. While Morrison’s intimate details make it a vivid story we can relate to, half the time you hear it on the radio, you’re listening to a bowdlerized version – “making love in the green grass” replaced by “laughin’ and a-runnin.’” The song was spiritually sanitized too. It was originally called “Brown Skinned Girl,” about an interracial relationship. I know the song has touched a lot of people, but until I was in my 20s, “Brown Eyed Girl” was about the only song by Morrison I knew, and I discounted him as a serious artist because of it.
It wasn’t until I heard the album Moondance that I discovered this giant talent that predated all the punk and new wave I was listening to in the ‘80s. “And It Stoned Me” and “Moondance” grabbed me and shook me.
Over the next few years, I found gem after gem as I prowled through Morrison’s other material, including those other great early records – Tupelo Honey, Saint Dominic’s Preview, His Band and the Street Choir and the otherworldly Astral Weeks. He has continued to produce strong stuff, such as Enlightenment and Hymns to the Silence, and I finally bought one of his records in real time, when I purchased The Healing Game.
I have been relieved to find out that Morrison doesn’t even like “Brown Eyed Girl” very much. Bert Berns, his manager was exploiting him at the time, as he had been exploited while in the group Them. The song was released without Morrison’s permission as part of his first solo LP, Blowin’ Your Mind. With a silly, hippie cover, that record would have tarnished his reputation further, but for the startling, raw “T.B. Sheets.” Fortunately, Morrison was able to break away from Berns and his label, Bang Records, and follow his muse without compromise on Warner Bros.
Of course, I have not come to bury “Brown Eyed Girl” but to praise it on its 50th birthday. It’s fun and pleasant, and undoubtedly it has helped bankroll Van Morrison’s vision since. So, kick back and enjoy it with a wine spritzer … then buy “Astral Weeks.”
