Often times, witnessing how Morrison pulls songs inside and outside the idioms of jazz and blues is nearly spellbinding. Though hardly the most melodic technician, he is blessed, however, with a sinewy, ingratiating voice that can shift from caring to curt to caress in the same sentence, without skipping tempo. Give him the whole 12 bars and it's a lifetime of perspectives.

So why is his current release a little harder to fathom? First off, skiffle was a very brief musical offshoot (popular mostly in blue collar Europe), itself an odd variation of the folk blues and early jazz imported from America. With its mesh of acoustic guitars, harmonicas and washboard rhythms, most British skiffle bands fell to reviving the spirit of Robert Johnson with the enthusiasm of Elvis, armed only with the meager tools of Woody Guthrie. John Lennon and Paul McCartney first met in a skiffle band, so the pedigree is cool. Yet, hearing Morrison eagerly reach back into the music of his youth may be a bit lost on stateside listeners who have no reference for the style, or his bandmates here.

Which is a shame since vocalist Lonnie Donegan is noted for scoring his own hit with "Rock Island Line,” and trombonist/bassist Chris Barber is better known on the Continent for his many contributions towards traditional jazz. Both are distinguished British performers initially associated with skiffle, but have gone onto other work.

So hearing the elder trio croak through workmanlike versions of "Goodnight Irene" and "Muleskinner Blues" here is something akin to when Willie Nelson reaches back into the memory files for some gold dust. It's fun for the moment, the experience is golden, but other peoples' treasured memories are next year's flea market. And although Van Morrison is delightful at just about everything he wraps his reeds around (and this disc does have some delightful, tho’ somewhat homespun, tunes), this comes with a guarded recommendation.