“Brown Eyed Girl” is what you’d call ubiquitous. It is one of maybe a dozen 1960s staples of what is now oldies radio. It is known the world over and everyone seems to love it. And that’s the one bad thing about it.

Van’s band Them had broken up and Morrison was adrift. He got a call from writer and producer Bert Berns. Bert and Bobby Darin could’ve been running buddies. Both were born in New York City and both suffered as children from rheumatic fever. Subsequently, both died young, Bert Berns succumbing in 1967 at only 38 (Bobby died in 1973 at 37). Both could write songs as well and Bert is responsible for some pretty significant ones. He wrote or co-wrote “Twist and Shout”, “Cry to Me”, “Tell Him”, “Cry Baby” (Garnet Mimms original, Janis killer cover in ’71), “Everybody Needs Somebody to Love”, “I Want Candy”, “Hang On Sloopy”, “Piece of My Heart” (again Janis) and Edwin Starr’s stellar “Twenty Five Miles”.

With all this R&B cred, you’d think Bert and Van would be homeboys and they were, I guess – for, like, 10 minutes. Both wanting to get down to business and cut some sides, Berns presented Van with a contract which he promptly signed. Here is a classic and particularly insidious example of the contract guaranteeing that the artist will remain a pauper all of his days. Morrison has said that he never received any royalties for writing or recording this song. The immense legacy of this tune – which we’ll talk about later – makes this all the more egregious. If artists were paid according to how a certain song made listeners feel, Van Morrison should be a billionaire based on this song alone.

Anyways, March 28, 1967 was the day “Brown Eyed Girl” was recorded (the 22nd take was used) and it was released in mid-June. It reached Number 10 on the Pop charts Stateside. Once the single took off, Bert Berns “assembled” an album from the songs Van had recorded. See, this is different than Morrison going into the studio to “make” a record and that is why I don’t consider Blowin’ Your Mind to be Van Morrison’s “first” album. But you do you. While the album is farcical in its title and cover art, it does contain the fantastic songs Van was recording at the time. But don’t get any of this on you; seek out 1991’s Bang Masters instead and save your rep. Remember Bert’s death date; Morrison never even got the chance to battle Berns for years as Bert was dead not 5 months after “Brown Eyed Girl” was released and things got tied up in Berns’ estate. But now on to happier things.

I hate to be so common as to love this song like everyone else does but y’know what? This song is perfect. However, there is something else to talk about here. As jubilant as “Brown Eyed Girl” is, I think it is one of the saddest songs I’ve ever heard. It is, after all, a nostalgic song of memory. The singer is looking back on a former love, yes, but also on a former time in their life. Nostalgia in and of itself is bittersweet and is made up of at least a portion of sadness and so the song would be sad anyways but the final verse speaks of a present that is difficult and a present that is lacking the joys of the past. Presented here is the universal truth that things take on an almost unbearable sheen when they become past, when they become things that are no more.

“Brown Eyed Girl” goes along at a nice clip and so it’s hard to notice but this final verse is heartbreaking; “So hard to find my way now that I’m all on my own / I saw you just the other day, my how you have grown / cast my memory back there, Lord / sometimes I’m overcome thinkin’ ’bout makin’ love in the green grass behind the stadium with you…” As I write those words down, I realize that every single line is devastating. “So hard to find my way now that I’m all on my own” – not only is the singer alone but he is struggling to find his way. If this wasn’t bad enough, he has recently seen his lost love and is amazed at the change. The listener can think of the times they have ran into an ex. Not always, I guess, but often it can be a tough thing and could make one think how things would be if you had stayed together. Next is something of a prayer and the simple words are not really simple but are grandiose in their disconsolate desire – “cast my memory back there, Lord”. And last up is something I can readily identify with and that is sometimes being “overcome” thinking about the past. Finally, Van asks the girl and all listeners “do you remember when we used to sing…” Yes, sadly, we do.

Critics have said that “Brown Eyed Girl” set a template of sorts for Van Morrison’s music. He presents an “idealized landscape” that links him to the Romantic poets he has loved and those he has returned to throughout his career and the song also references the radio as an essential companion. Radio at the time, though, couldn’t handle anybody makin’ love in the grass so a butcher of an edit was created. Somehow, this edited version appeared on Van’s own Best of years later in 1990. This Top Ten US hit is Van’s signature song and, according to Billboard, it remains “the most downloaded and most played song of the entire 1960s decade”.

Maybe Van was bitter about the money thing but he has said that “Brown Eyed Girl” is not among the favourites of his songs; “I mean, I’ve got about 300 songs that I think are better”. Fans and critics disagree. Dig that this song is one of only ten honoured by BMI for having 10 million US radio air plays. “I must’ve heard that song ten million times” is no exaggeration. The success of the single set Morrison’s career in motion though he had other, decidedly less pop-sounding roads to travel. He would some 15 months later emerge from recording studios in NYC with Astral Weeks under his arm, thus beginning a musical journey and a career with few parallels.

But nearer the beginning was the buoyant “Brown Eyed Girl”. Maybe it is the perfect metaphor for life, itself; on the surface, it is pure joy and can be accepted as that, full stop. It is traveling along the road on a sunny day. It is carefree – if you keep yourself present. But if you allow your thoughts to wander and if you have a tendency – as I do – to allow your mind to dig a little deeper, you’ll feel a pang born of reminiscence and a little regret. The best Van Morrison songs challenge the listener thusly but they also provide rewards not to be found in any other body of work.