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**★★★★☆**

Van Morrison has always been a restless spirit, forever chasing something just beyond the horizon of ordinary consciousness. By 1986, when "No Guru, No Method, No Teacher" emerged, the Belfast mystic had already spent the better part of two decades wandering through musical and spiritual territories that would leave lesser artists dizzy and disoriented. This album represents Morrison at his most explicitly philosophical, serving up a collection of songs that read like pages torn from a seeker's diary – equal parts enlightened and exasperated.

The album's title, borrowed from philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurti, telegraphs Morrison's intentions from the start. After years of exploring various spiritual traditions and finding himself repeatedly disappointed by gurus, methods, and teachers who promised transcendence but delivered only human frailty, Van the Man was ready to declare independence from organized enlightenment. The result is an album that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable – a meditation on the perils of seeking salvation outside oneself.

Musically, "No Guru" finds Morrison in a contemplative mood, favoring mid-tempo grooves and spacious arrangements that give his voice room to roam and ruminate. The production, handled by Morrison himself, has that lived-in quality that characterizes his best work – warm, organic, and utterly unpretentious. His backing band, featuring longtime collaborators like saxophonist Richie Buckley and guitarist John Allair, provides sympathetic support that never overshadows the main attraction: Morrison's voice, still capable of shifting from tender whisper to full-throated roar within the span of a single phrase.

The album's standout track, "In the Garden," is vintage Morrison – a seven-minute journey through memory and metaphysics that builds from gentle acoustic strumming to a full gospel-tinged celebration. Here, Morrison's spiritual seeking takes on an almost childlike wonder as he recalls moments of pure connection with the divine, whether found in nature, music, or simple human communion. It's the kind of song that reminds you why Morrison has remained relevant for over five decades – his ability to make the mystical feel immediate and the cosmic feel personal.

"Foreign Window" showcases another side of Morrison's artistry, with its jazzy sophistication and literary imagery painting pictures of urban alienation and romantic longing. The song's cinematic quality – you can practically see the rain-slicked streets and neon reflections – demonstrates Morrison's gift for creating atmosphere with just a few well-chosen words and a perfectly placed saxophone line.

The title track serves as the album's philosophical centerpiece, with Morrison delivering his hard-won wisdom over a deceptively simple arrangement. "No guru, no method, no teacher / Now the subject is closed" he declares, but rather than sounding bitter or defeated, there's a sense of liberation in his voice. It's the sound of a man who has finally learned to trust his own inner compass.

"Tir Na Nog," named after the mythical Irish land of eternal youth, finds Morrison reconnecting with his Celtic roots while maintaining the album's introspective tone. The song's lilting melody and evocative lyrics create a sense of timeless longing that feels both ancient and thoroughly modern.

In the decades since its release, "No Guru, No Method, No Teacher" has aged remarkably well, perhaps because its central themes – spiritual seeking, disillusionment with false prophets, and the ultimate necessity of finding one's own path – remain eternally relevant. While it may not possess the immediate impact of classics like "Astral Weeks" or "Moondance," the album has gradually revealed itself as one of Morrison's most cohesive and mature statements.

The album's influence can be heard in the work of countless singer-songwriters who have grappled with similar themes of spiritual searching and self-reliance. Its unhurried pace and thoughtful lyrics helped pave the way for the more introspective strain of rock that would emerge in the following decades.

Today, "No Guru, No Method, No Teacher" stands as testament to Morrison's enduring ability to transform personal struggle into universal art. It's an album that rewards patient listening and grows richer with each encounter – much like the spiritual journey it documents. For Morrison, the search continues, but on this album at least, the searching itself becomes the destination.