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**Van Morrison - Keep Me Singing**
★★★☆☆

At 70, Van Morrison remains one of music's most gloriously cantankerous spirits, a man who's spent five decades oscillating between transcendent mysticism and grumpy old sod with the unpredictability of Belfast weather. "Keep Me Singing," his 35th studio album, finds Van the Man in a peculiarly reflective mood, though anyone expecting a mellow surrender to his autumn years clearly hasn't been paying attention to this most uncompromising of artists.

The album emerges from a period of renewed creative restlessness for Morrison. Following 2014's "Duets: Re-working the Catalogue" – a patchy affair that saw him revisiting old glories with varying degrees of success – the Belfast bard retreated to his home studio with a collection of songs that feel both deeply personal and frustratingly opaque. It's classic Van, really: just when you think you've got him figured out, he shuffles the deck and deals you something entirely unexpected.

Musically, "Keep Me Singing" inhabits that familiar Morrison territory where Celtic soul meets jazz-inflected R&B, all filtered through his singular vision of what popular music can achieve when it stops trying so hard to be popular. The production, handled by Morrison himself alongside longtime collaborator Gil Norton, favors warmth over precision, creating an intimate sonic landscape that feels like eavesdropping on a particularly inspired late-night session.

The album's standout track, "Too Late," showcases Morrison at his most vulnerable, his weathered voice carrying decades of hard-won wisdom over a deceptively simple arrangement of piano, subtle strings, and brushed drums. It's a meditation on mortality that never lapses into self-pity, instead finding grace in the acceptance of life's inevitable limitations. Similarly compelling is "Caledonia Swing," a jaunty celebration of Celtic musical traditions that finds Morrison playfully name-checking everyone from Robert Burns to traditional Scottish balladeers, his voice dancing around the melody with the agility of a man half his age.

"Every Time I See a River" represents Morrison's continued fascination with the spiritual dimensions of landscape, transforming a simple observation into something approaching the mystical. The song builds slowly, layers of instrumentation gradually joining Morrison's hypnotic vocal as he weaves together images of flowing water, ancient stones, and timeless journeys. It's the kind of track that rewards repeated listening, revealing new depths with each encounter.

Less successful is "Caledonia Soul Music," which feels like Morrison going through the motions rather than genuinely inhabiting the song. The lyrics, while competently crafted, lack the spark of inspiration that elevates his best work, and the arrangement, though professionally executed, never quite catches fire. It's not bad, exactly, but it serves as a reminder that even artists of Morrison's caliber can't hit the bullseye every time.

The album's title track serves as both mission statement and artistic manifesto, Morrison's voice carrying a note of defiance as he declares his intention to continue creating regardless of industry trends or critical expectations. There's something deeply moving about this assertion of artistic independence, particularly coming from an artist who's never shown much interest in commercial compromise.

Stylistically, "Keep Me Singing" finds Morrison drawing from his entire career, incorporating elements of the jazz explorations that marked albums like "Astral Weeks," the R&B passion of his early work with Them, and the Celtic mysticism that's become increasingly prominent in his later output. The result is an album that sounds unmistakably like Van Morrison while avoiding the trap of self-parody that ensnares many veteran artists.

In the broader context of Morrison's extensive catalogue, "Keep Me Singing" occupies a curious position. It's neither a masterpiece on the level of "Astral Weeks" or "Moondance," nor is it a throwaway effort. Instead, it represents Morrison in craftsman mode, applying his considerable skills to a collection of songs that may not change the world but certainly enrich it.

The album's legacy may well be as a bridge between Morrison's past and whatever comes next, a reminder that artistic vitality doesn't necessarily diminish with age. In an era of manufactured nostalgia and algorithmic predictability, there's something refreshing about an artist who continues to follow his muse wherever it might lead, even if the destination isn't always clear to the rest of us.