wavePod

Get Wave AI

Van Morrison: Astral Weeks, Movement and Murder - DISGRACELAND | Wave AI Podcast Notes

Back to DISGRACELAND

Van Morrison: Astral Weeks, Movement and Murder

DISGRACELAND

Tue Apr 03 2018

Summary

Podcast Summary: DISGRACELAND

Episode: Van Morrison: Astral Weeks, Movement and Murder

Host: Jake Brennan
Original Air Date: April 3, 2018

Overview

This gripping episode of DISGRACELAND delves into the tumultuous period of Van Morrison’s life surrounding the creation of his acclaimed album Astral Weeks. It explores Morrison’s artistic struggles while hiding out in Cambridge, Massachusetts, his fraught interactions with the New York City mafia, and ultimately, the tragic true crime that haunts the record: the murder of his gifted guitarist, Rick Philp, by obsessed roommate Harvey Alter. Through Brennan’s signature blend of hard-boiled narrative and reverence for music history, listeners are transported into a world where art, violence, and movement are inseparable.

Episode Structure

Introduction to Van Morrison’s Dilemma (03:17)
Cambridge, Folk Scene, and Assembling a Band (05:00)
Van Morrison’s Mafia Troubles & Artistic Pressures (06:30)
Rick Philp’s Background and Role (14:29)
Obsession and Tension with Harvey Alter (20:21)
Murder of Rick Philp (28:36)
Aftermath and the Meaning of Astral Weeks (34:00)

Key Discussion Points & Insights

1. Van Morrison in Cambridge: Desperation and Stasis

Setting the Scene: Morrison, at his creative and personal low, flees New York after a mob-related attack to seek refuge and new inspiration in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
“He was hiding out from the New York City mafia... starving and desperately trying to keep his career together." (03:17, Jake Brennan)
Morrison’s sense of immobility contradicts the album’s theme of movement — a creative paradox at the core of Astral Weeks:
- “The lyrics are poetic, mournful, melancholic and in constant struggle with unwelcome inertia. Astral Weeks is about coming and going, about being stuck, and with any luck, maybe being reborn.” (05:04, Jake Brennan)

2. Mafia Entanglements & Professional Setbacks

Morrison’s early success with “Them” and “Brown Eyed Girl” is marred by the disastrous management of Bert Berns, who was mob-connected.
Morrison attempts to negotiate his contract, resulting in an altercation:
- “He wound up having his guitar smashed over his head by a Genovese family thug. New York City was dead to him or, if he stayed, would likely be the reason he wound up dead.” (09:00, Jake Brennan)

3. Rick Philp: Talent, Hope, and Tragedy

Rick Philp is introduced as an accomplished young guitarist who’s already endured industry letdowns and whose band, Middle Class, had been mentored by Carole King and Jerry Goffin.
Philp bonds with Van over shared industry wounds and the search for transcendent music.
Their creative chemistry is palpable:
- “Rick hung back and played around Van’s phrasing and afforded the singer the space to evolve the songs organically.” (16:45, Jake Brennan)

4. Harvey Alter’s Obsession and the Descent Into Violence

Harvey is introduced as Rick’s controlling, infatuated roommate, undermining Rick’s relationship with his girlfriend Kathy and exerting mental control, with red flags intensifying after mysterious fires and the theft of Rick's guitars.
Notable fictionalized, chilling storytelling episode:
- Harvey tells a grotesque, fabricated story about a deli worker’s decapitation — an obvious attempt to intimidate Kathy and Rick:
  - “All Kathy heard was, you just couldn’t take a hint. And now he’s gone. For real. Real gone.” (22:20, Jake Brennan)
Rick finally recognizes the threat and moves out:
- “Shortly after, Rick moved out… Harvey was just too weird.” (24:00, Jake Brennan)

5. The Murder of Rick Philp

Brennan narrates the final confrontation: Philp returns to retrieve stolen guitars; Harvey will not accept Rick’s polite rejection and impending departure.
The violence is described in stark, cinematic terms:
- “Fear, shame, loneliness, and sexual excitement all banged violently together inside Harvey’s head while Harvey violently brought the banister spindle down on Rick’s head with brute force.” (32:15, Jake Brennan)
Harvey hoards Rick’s dying body for days before confessing to police:
- “When police finally showed up… Harvey answered the door and immediately told the police, ‘He’s dead. I killed him. I killed Rick.’” (36:45, Jake Brennan)

6. Movement, Transience, and the Spirit of Astral Weeks

The story underscores the album’s kinetic, searching quality, contrasting the tragic ending for Philp with the ongoing journey of the artist:
- “Musicians are like sharks. They stop moving and they die. Van Morrison knew this. You can hear it in every note of Astral Weeks.” (34:30, Jake Brennan)
Astral Weeks becomes both a creative high point and a memorial for the transient beauty of musical collaboration.

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

On Van Morrison’s Creative Stasis

“A 5 foot 5 inch, chubby, sullen, wildly talented and inspired immovable object hiding out from the New York City mafia... desperately trying to piece together the makings of a band...” (04:15, Jake Brennan)
On Rick Philp & His Talent

"He quickly hooked up with Van Morrison, another young, kinda sorta casualty of the music industry, but one who wasn't equipped for or interested in resigning himself to study groups and campus sit inside. For Van Morrison, school was out. No more teachers, no more books. Van was searching, off on some other trip entirely." (15:48, Jake Brennan)
On Harvey Alter’s Obsession/Control

“He insisted that when Kathy spent the night, she and Rick leave the bedroom door open so Harvey would not feel left out. Controlling, sure, but dude was just fucking weird.” (18:30, Jake Brennan)
On the Blurred Line Between Art and Violence

“Dead or not, Harvey finally had his man. He’d stopped the young musician... the object of his obsession, from moving. No small feat given that musicians are like sharks. They stop moving and they die.” (34:53, Jake Brennan)
Epilogue

“Rick Philp moved in and out of Van Morrison’s life with the quickness, just as many people before and since have done. And Van Morrison keeps moving just as musicians do... That is, if you can get one of them to stop moving long enough to talk to you.” (36:53, Jake Brennan)

Timestamps for Major Segments

[03:17] – Introduction: Van Morrison’s Cambridge period and mafia troubles
[14:29] – Rick Philp joins Morrison’s band and bond forms
[20:21] – Harvey Alter’s obsession and increasing instability
[28:36] – The murder: What happened in Harvey’s basement apartment
[34:00] – Aftermath and reflections on art, movement, and mortality

Episode Tone & Style

Jake Brennan delivers the narrative with a noirish, lore-heavy energy, combining true crime storytelling with rock-and-roll mythos and a palpable reverence for the loneliness and beauty of the creative life. There’s a balance of fact and fictionalized interiority, especially around the intentions and mindstates of the show’s tragic figures.

Conclusion

This episode of DISGRACELAND peels back the romantic myth of Astral Weeks, exposing the darkness, desperation, and murder that underpinned its creation. At its heart, it’s a story about the danger and grace of movement—literal and creative—and the sometimes-fatal costs embedded in the pursuit of great art.

Loading summary...

Transcript

Ryan Seacrest (0:00)

Hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons and Safeway. It's stock up savings time now through March 31st. Spring in for storewide deals and earn four times the points. Look for in store tags to earn on eligible items from Hunts, Nerds, Pillsbury, Lowry's, Breyers, Quaker and Culture Pop. Then clip the offer in the app for automatic event long savings. Stack up those rewards to save even more. Enjoy savings on top of savings when you shop in store or online for easy drive up and go pick up or delivery restrictions apply. See website for full terms and conditions.

Public Investing Representative (0:31)

Support for the show comes from Public, the investing platform for those who take it seriously. On Public you can build a multi asset portfolio of stocks, bonds, options, crypto and now generated assets which allow you to turn any idea into an investable index with AI. It all starts with your prompt. From renewable energy companies with high free cash flow to semiconductor suppliers growing revenue over 20% year over year, you can literally type any prompt and put the AI to work. It screens thousands of stocks, builds a one of a kind index and lets you backtested against the S&P 500. Then you can invest in a few clicks. Generated assets are like ETFs with infinite possibilities, completely customizable and based on your thesis, not someone else's. Go to public.com podcast and earn an uncapped 1% bonus when you transfer your portfolio. That's public.com podcast paid for by Public Investing Brokerage Services by Open to the Public Investing Inc. Member FINRA and SIPC Advisory Services by Public Advisors llc. SEC Registered Advisor Generated Assets is an interactive analysis tool. Output is for informational purposes only and is not an investment recommendation or advice. Complete Disclosures available at public.comdisclosures

Poshmark Advertiser (1:33)

we all have different styles. I may be into Levi's and you may be into Fendi or Miu Miu. But we all should be into poshmark.com right? Because we can all find exactly what we want to fit our style. Poshmark has millions of new and pre lived pieces. Vintage, luxury, men's, women's, children's, everything from Carhartt to coach. Download the Poshmark app and sign up with code podcast10 and get $10 off your first purchase.

Jake Brennan (2:02)

This is Jacob Goldstein from what's yous Problem? Business software is expensive and when you buy software from lots of different companies, it's not only expensive, it gets confusing. Slow to use, hard to integrate. Odoo solves that because all Odoo software is connected on a single affordable platform. Save money without missing out on the features you need. Odoo has no hidden costs and no limit on features or data. Odoo has over 60 apps available for any needs your business might have, all at no additional charge. Everything from websites to sales to inventory to accounting. All linked and talking to each other. Check out Odoo at o d o o.com that's o d o o.com there's

Jake Brennan (3:17)

Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis. The story about Van Morrison's time spent in Cambridge, Massachusetts is kind of crazy. He was hiding out from the New York City mafia recently, the victim of a physical attack from a Genovese crime family member and starving and desperately trying to keep his career together. He was playing in a band with a young, talented Emerson college student who would wind up beaten to death in a Beacon street apartment in a matter of months. Van Morrison was ornery, broke and reclusive despite early success, first with a seminal rhythm and blues inspired garage rock outfit, Them, and later with his smash solo hit Brown Eyed Girl. For Van, though, it wasn't enough. He wanted more. More great music. That music you heard at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my melotron called church organ low mk1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the license for hey Jude by the Beatles. And why would I play you that specific slice of anthemic maca cheese? Could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on November 1, 1968. And that was the day that George Ivan Morrison, aka Van Morrison, aka Van the man, would release Astro Weeks, his second solo album. An album that defined grace and beauty, but is underpinned by desperation and murder. On this episode, Low Church Organs, Anthemic Maca Cheese, Astral Van Morrison's time in Cambridge, Mass. And a dead guitar player. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgraceland. Finding a musician is easy. Holding onto one is a different story entirely. Musicians are transient. They come and they go. We move through our daily lives and every couple of months or so one of our favorite musical artists blows through town for a show. We fork over our Hard earned cash. And if we're lucky, the artist is worth it and the show is transcendent and we get swept away and are given a respite from our otherwise very un rockstar lives. Then after the obligatory encore or two, poof, they're gone. A small army of hard working roadies and fast talking handlers are thrust into motion to quickly move the musician from our town to someone else's. And musicians not only move from town to town, they move from gig to gig, from band to band, from opportunity to opportunity, in and out of people's lives, from one lover to another, from party to party, drug to drug in and then out of rehab, there, then gone again. Us civilians, our lives are sedentary by comparison. But for musicians, the rest of the world comes and goes, as do all the people in it. Few albums convey this sense of transience with as much grace as Van Morrison's landmark longplayer, Astral Weeks. The lyrics are poetic, mournful, melancholic and in constant struggle with an unwelcome inertia. Astral Weeks is about coming and going, about being stuck, and with any luck, maybe being reborn. In every note, from the sweeping strings to the chugging acoustic guitars and heavy hearted flutes, you feel a sense of trying to get somewhere, a sense of movement. And Van Morrison, who wrote the record, was at the time anything but moving. He was stuck. A 5 foot 5 inch, chubby, sullen, wildly talented and inspired immovable object hiding out from the New York City mafia in Cambridge, Massachusetts, starving and desperately trying to piece together the makings of a band to get Astro Weeks out of his head and onto tape. And yes, to get his career moving again. New York City was tough on Van Morrison. Despite the success of his first band, Them and their anthemic hit, G L O R I A Gloria, the blue eyed Irish soul singer was broke, but bursting at the seams with talent and vision. Van's plan was to bust through the silly haze of the Summer of Love as a serious solo artist. His old school producer, Burt Burns, mobbed up and money hungry, had other plans and miscast Van as a psychedelic novelty act. A move that in Van's eyes, threatened to derail the second act of his career before it even got started. So Van attempted to negotiate a release from the draconian contract that bound him. He wound up having his guitar smashed over his head by a Genovese family thug. New York City was dead to him, or if he stayed, would likely be the reason he would wind up dead. New digs were in demand. So it was off to Cambridge, with its flourishing folk scene, rich pool of talented young musicians, and its underground radio station and alternative weekly newspaper across the river in Boston. Yeah, Cambridge would do just fine. For a time anyway. The move was about getting his career moving again, not just ducking the mob. And one of the people who would help him find his way, a young, gifted, handsome guitar player, would mysteriously disappear from Van's life just as quickly as he'd arrived. But it wasn't career opportunities or drugs or alcohol that would move the musician out of Van's world with shockingly quick transients. It was a violent beating inflicted upon him via savage blows to the head with the wooden spindle from a broken banister.

Jake Brennan (14:29)

All I know is that his name was Rick. He had worked with the Monkees and a few weeks after our first show, after Astroweeks was released, he was murdered. That's Van Morrison's Boston based bass player at the time, Tom Kilbania, talking about Rick Philp, the guitar player in the first band Van had put together to woodshed the songs that would eventually become Astral Weeks. In 1967, when Rick Rick Philp arrived in Boston to attend Emerson College, the music industry had already chewed him up and spit him out. But Rick, apparently a glutton for punishment, made himself available for gigs nonetheless. Rick's previous band, Middle Class, from his hometown of Berkeley Heights, New Jersey was a pet project of songwriting power couple Carole King and Jerry Goffin, who had taken the band under their tutelage and signed them to their record label, Tomorrow Records. That's how the Monkees gig happened, but otherwise the band went nowhere. They had a regional following and some good press, but in the grand scheme of things, Rick Phillips band Middle Class was a bust. I mean, they were good for sure, but you know the drill. When your parents are up your butt about how the whole quote unquote music thing is going. How many times could Rick answer with something like, pretty good? You know, we just had a great gig at Summit High School last month. This crazy band called Velvet Underground opened up for us. I know they're really going places and you know, Carol is going to get this new distribution deal for the label. And even though her and Jerry are on the outs, I feel like there's some strong material coming our way. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah blah blah. What your parents heard was my son is on a fast track to nowhere with this music thing. So the band broke up. But to keep his old man off of his back, Rick decided to head off to Boston to go to school. He quickly hooked up with Van Morrison, another young, kinda sorta casualty of the music industry, but one who wasn't equipped for or interested in resigning himself to study groups and campus sit inside. For Van Morrison, school was out. No more teachers, no more books. Van was searching, off on some other trip entirely. Playing with Van Morrison was no doubt a boost for Rick Filt. Van, his current situation notwithstanding, was a known quantity. Brown Eyed Girl wasn't quite the ubiquitous classic we know it as today, but it was still a hit. And Rick knew he was potentially into something good. And he and Van hit it off personally. Van seemed to like him, which was saying something because the guy didn't really like anyone, or at least he seemed to not dislike him. They bonded the night Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Was shot. Watching the Fallout in disbelief from Vann's Cambridgeport apartment, glued to the television. Vann knew it then. Rick could hang and play. Rick was a good musical match for Van. Instinctually. Rick knew that as Van was hunting for a sound to pin down, he'd be wise to not paint the surly troubadour into a musical corner with his guitar playing. So Rick hung back and played around Van's phrasing and afforded the singer the space to evolve the songs organically while he sorted astral weeks out in his head, in rehearsal and on stage. For a time it was all good. Then in a flash, it wasn't. Rick's apartment mysteriously caught fire. Twice. Rick was fine and so was his roommate. And possibly just as important, Rick's guitars were not damaged. All that was lost were some of Rick's clothes and books. But two fires. Weird, right? Rick found it odd but brushed it off. His roommate, Harvey Alter didn't seem bothered in the least. Then Rick's guitars went missing. Stolen right out from under him. Rick was devastated. Having his guitars stolen, effectively losing extensions of himself, was crushing, as it would be for any serious guitar player. His roommate had no idea where they went. Nobody did. Rick's roommate Harvey was an odd dude. He and Rick had hooked up somehow at Emerson and lived in a little basement apartment on Beacon street, just across the street from Boston Common. Surrounded by gas lit street lanterns with its beautiful public garden and picturesque Frog Pond. The entire neighborhood at the time screamed old school romance. And romance was what Harvey had in mind. Not for his girlfriend who was more of a beard, but for his good looking guitar slinging roommate, Rick Philp. Harvey Alter was obsessed with Rick and for whatever reason Rick was blind to it. Harvey had a weird control over him. Or at least he tried to exert some sort of control over him. He repeatedly attempted to sabotage Rick's relationship with his girlfriend Kathy, who was out of state, away at school, but frequently visited Rick at the apartment. And he insisted that when Kathy spent the night that she and Rick leave the bedroom door open so Harvey would not feel left out. Controlling, sure, but dude was just fucking weird.

Jake Brennan (20:21)

Driving home after work one night, Harvey couldn't get his head around the issue of Rick and Kathy fucking. Kathy always around. Was she moving to Boston to be with Rick or not? Couldn't she take a hint? She wasn't welcome. Harvey hated her and deep down he knew Rick did too. Rick was just too nice to bring himself to admit it. Rick, Rick was gorgeous and Sweet and kind and talented. He loved Rick and he knew Rick loved him back, even if Rick didn't know it yet. Rick was going places. Carole King thought so in this new gig Rick had with the angry little Irish guy with that song about the girl with the brown eyes. Sheladi Da Shalotti. Damn, this gig had real potential. Yeah, Rick was going places. He was a mover. And he'd take Harvey with him. Harvey just knew it. Once upon a time, not so long ago, Harvey hadn't always been so convinced. That's why he took Rick's guitars. But Rick? Did he really think he was going to travel the world playing guitar without Harvey? Nah. If Harvey couldn't come, then Rick couldn't go either. Musicians, always coming and going. Who did they think they were anyway? But Harvey now knew that Rick wouldn't leave without him. Things were starting to come apart with Kathy. But still Kathy kept coming back around, making a last ditch effort to pin Rick down and boxing Harvey out. Fucking Kathy. Harvey had an idea. Scare her away, but do it carefully in a way that wouldn't come back on him. And piss off Rick. Harvey couldn't just threaten her. That wouldn't work. He needed to be subtle. That's when the idea hit him. Earlier that night at work, the deli boy in the kitchen nearly cut his finger off on the meat slicer he'd been bumped into by a busboy. Lost his footing, slipped, and his finger ventured into the area where the big rotating blade spun mercilessly. Blood splurted everywhere. Harvey couldn't help but wonder, what if the slip the deli boy took was a little more drastic? What if the busboy knocked into the deli boy hard, causing him to buckle over? And what if the screw cap on that old rickety slicer's feed screw knocked loose? Well, then at that point the rotating blade would surely spin itself off its axle with the power of a tornado and hurl straight toward Kathy's neck. I mean, the buckled over deli boy's neck and then Kathy's head. I mean the deli boy's head would. Well, you get the picture. Harvey came home from work at the restaurant with a manic look in his eyes, barged into Rick and Kathy's bedroom and told them what he just witnessed. Kathy, you won't believe what I just saw. This deli boy at work. Such a shit, really. Always up in everybody's business. It's no wonder this happened. I mean, karma, right? Anyway, he was slicing meat on the meat cutter. You know, the kind Right. The kind with the big, sharp rotating blade. He slipped while using it because he wasn't careful. Probably minding someone else's business or something. Anyway, he slipped, buckled over toward the machine. And at that same exact moment, you won't believe this, a screw from the machine came off and the blade rocketed off its axle and flew right through his neck. His head came clean off. Crazy, right? The blood. My God, the blood. You wouldn't believe it. Poor guy. I mean, he maybe had it coming. No one liked him anyway. No one wanted him around. You know what I mean? Right? He just couldn't take a hint. And now he's gone. For real. Real gone. Rick and Kathy were in shock. Kathy especially. They both knew Harvey was bullshitting them. And they both knew the story was meant to intimidate Kathy. Rick wondered why Kathy didn't. She'd picked up on Harvey's fascination with Rick before and tried warning Rick off. But Rick, to this point anyway, was in denial. But this little tall tale changed things. Rick now thought that maybe those fires weren't an accident. All of a sudden, Harvey seemed to Rick to be well off his rocker. And what about his missing guitars? Did Harvey, the devious little prick, have something to do with that too? Rick didn't know. But what he did know was that he needed to get away from this dude. Shortly after, Rick moved out of his apartment with Harvey and into a place in Brighton with a couple friends from back home. Harvey was just too weird.

Jake Brennan (28:36)

Safely ensconced in his new digs, Rick busied himself with his music. He was always writing, sending demos out to Carole King in la, recording with a new band he was pulling together, picking up side gigs with Tony Conigliero's band, outfielder for the Boston Red Sox and legendary nightclub prowler, and of course, still lending his considerable talent to whatever it was that Van Morrison was cooking up in his head. Their new combo had a name, the Van Morrison Controversy. Rehearsals at the National Express recording studio at 304 Columbus Avenue in Boston's South End were where the band would begin to hone the musical identity for Astral Weeks. The neighborhood at the time was a mix of beauty and grit. Expansive brownstones and back alley cobblestones rubbed up against trash strewn, crime ridden streets that in the daytime bustled with working class Bostonians moving through their daily routines. Beauty, grit, movement. Sentiments that would come to dominate the sound of Astral Weeks. The Van Morrison Controversy brought that sound to the stage on April 20, 1968. The show was held on Boston Common, just across from the apartment Rick Philp had shared with Harvey Alter as part of a festival called Spring Sing with a bunch of other bands whose names sounded like they were invented inside a Hippie Dippy, Mad Libs, Cliche Machine, Third World Raspberry, the Tangerine Zoo. You get the picture. There's a photo from that day of Rick on stage with Van looking at it. You get the vibe of the two men who are standing exactly where they're supposed to be. For a moment anyway, Van would keep searching for that sound and Rick would keep searching for those lost guitars. He'd all but given up until one day he got a call from Harvey. Harvey had told him that he had, quote, unquote, found Rick's guitars. Rick just needed to come by Harvey's apartment to get them. So on May 19, 1969, Rick Philp descended the stairs to Harvey Alter's basement apartment at 233 Beacon street and knocked on the door. Harvey answered excitedly, happy to see his old friend. Rick was in no mood. He was polite but blunt. He wanted his guitars. He didn't even care how Harvey had come upon them. He just wanted them back. Harvey dodged. He was making small talk, acting as if nothing had changed between them since Rick moved out. How are Things going? What's new with your music, how's school, that sort of thing. Rick kept to the point, where are my guitars, Harvey? Harvey lit a joint, clearly stalling. Fine, Rick thought, I'll humor him. Things are good. Harvey. I'm thinking of leaving Boston over break. Kathy is gonna be home from school and it'd be good to be with her for a while. Then after that, who knows, Louisiana maybe. Probably. Maybe New York. All Harvey heard was, I'm leaving Boston. Harvey started whining to Rick. He couldn't leave, he just had to stay in Boston. They had so much to do together. They were just getting started. Rick, I'm in love with you, you know. Rick, of course, knew that the despite the girlfriends, Harvey was gay. But Rick didn't care so long as he didn't come on to him. He politely let Harvey down gently. But all Harvey heard was, I'm leaving Boston. I don't love you, I never loved you. Harvey moved closer to Rick and tried to pull him in. Forget the proclamations. Show him how much you love him. Rick pulled away. This just wasn't his thing, he protested. All Harvey heard was, I'm leaving Boston. I don't love you, I never loved you, you're gay. I'm not. Harvey wasn't taking no for an answer. Rick just needed to be shown how good it could be between them. Now Rick got pissed and angrily pushed Harvey away. Told him to leave him the hell alone and give him his guitars and he'd be out of there. But all Harvey heard was, I'm leaving Boston. I don't love you, I never loved you, you're gay. I'm not. Fuck off. Harvey snapped. Fucking Rick. Who did he think he was? Did he think he could just leave? Just go and be with someone else? Move away? No. If Harvey couldn't have Rick, then nobody could have Rick. Harvey grabbed him. A struggle ensued. Harvey threw Rick back into the short staircase leading out of the apartment. His fall broke the banister. On his way down, Rick clumsily tried getting to his feet. Harvey Grant grabbed one of the banister spindles that had broken off. It was perfect fit perfectly into his hand. Rick was moving for the door. Harvey was blind with rage outside of himself, off on some other trip entirely. Fear, shame, loneliness and sexual excitement all banged violently together inside Harvey's head while Harvey violently brought the banister, spindle banging down under Rick's face head with brute force. When it was over, Harvey came to. What had he done? Rick was hurt badly. Harvey had it together enough to pull Rick into his bed and put him under the covers. But that was about it for three and a half days. While Rick lay mortally wounded in his bed, Harvey slowly lost his mind, pacing the apartment, taking turns mumbling to himself and screaming in horror. Finally, Rick's head wounds, left untreated, proved to be too much, and the young musician with the bright future died. Dead or not, Harvey finally had his man. He'd stopped the young musician Rick Philp, the object of his obsession, from moving. No small feat given that musicians are like sharks. They stop moving and they die. Van Morrison knew this. You can hear it in every note of Astroweeks. Van was searching on a quest, figuratively and literally, moving on from the first phase of his career, moving on from one sound to the next, moving on from the musician he was to the musician he was to become, from the man he was to the man he was to become. Movement equals life, which is why Astral Week sounds so vibrant. There's transience and grace in every note. The album is alive. Rick Philp is dead. When police finally showed up at Harvey Alter's apartment, responding to a neighbor calling in what was described as disturbing sounds coming from the basement, Harvey answered the door and immediately told the police, he's dead. I killed him. I killed Rick. Rick Philp moved in and then out of Van Morrison's life with the quickness, just as many people before and since have done. And Van Morrison keeps moving just as musicians do, making more records, playing more shows, doing what a musician does. Astral Weeks would become Van Morrison's landmark creative statement. It is a masterpiece. Sure, it doesn't have the hits of some of Van's other works, but ask any musician about it and they'll like you, tell you that it's his best album. That is, if you can get one of them to stop moving long enough to talk to you. I'm Jake Brennan and this is Disgrace. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page@gracelandpod.com if you're listening as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to Disgracelandpod.com Membership members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland ad free. Plus you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month, Weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections, and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelandpod.com membership for details, rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter and Facebook Disgracelandpod and on YouTube@YouTube.com Disgracelandpod Rocka Rolla