JOURNALISTS GO ON RECORD
Van Morrison is a favourite companion of mine whenever I am driving around on Lanzarote. When the sun is burning in the sky and ´the back of my neck is getting dirty and gritty´ with all the sand, there is no better sound than that of Van Morrison wrestling with the profundity of God and Time and The Cosmos and spittin´and cussin´ at his own inarticulate speech of the heart. He always sounds to me to be taking part in somew frustrating search for something (who knows what?) that he feels he might never find
