You’ve probably seen the clip. A short, stocky Irishman in a shimmering, maroon-sequined jumpsuit—some call it purple, some say burgundy—struts across the stage of San Francisco's Winterland Ballroom. He’s belts out "Caravan" with a feral intensity that feels like it might actually crack the camera lens. Then come the high kicks. Those frantic, awkward, glorious leg heaves that looked like a man trying to physically kick his way out of his own skin.
That was Van Morrison at The Last Waltz.
It is widely considered the greatest five minutes of his live career. But the truth is, we almost didn't get it. Not even close. If it weren’t for a literal shove from a manager and a desperate need to overcome crippling anxiety, one of the most iconic moments in rock history would have been a "no-show" in Martin Scorsese’s 1978 masterpiece.
The Night Everything Changed at Winterland
November 25, 1976. Thanksgiving Day. The Band was saying goodbye, and they invited every legend in their Rolodex to join them. Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Eric Clapton—the lineup was a "who’s who" of 1970s rock royalty.
Amidst this chaos, Van Morrison was a wreck.
By the mid-70s, Van had developed a reputation for being... let’s say, difficult. But beneath the gruff exterior was a performer struggling with severe stage fright. He hadn't been touring much. He’d put on a little weight. He was terrified of the cameras. He was terrified of the crowd. Basically, he didn't want to go on.
According to his manager at the time, Harvey Goldsmith, Van was practically paralyzed backstage. While the Band was already vamping his intro, Van was rooted to the spot in the wings. Goldsmith eventually had to give him a physical push to get him into the light.
Imagine that. One of the greatest soul singers of all time, needing a shove like a kid at a piano recital.
"Caravan" and the Transformation
The moment Van hits the mic, something shifts. It’s visible. He starts out tentative, his voice slightly thin as he duets with Richard Manuel on "Tura Lura Lural (That's an Irish Lullaby)." But when the horns for "Caravan" kick in, the "Van the Man" persona takes over.
It wasn't just a song; it was an exorcism.
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- The Outfit: That sequined jumpsuit was three sizes too small. You can see it straining against his chest.
- The Vocals: He wasn't just singing; he was barking, shouting, and "barn-yarding" (as some critics called it).
- The Energy: He was "turning it up" until the radio—and the room—exploded.
By the time he reaches the climax, Van is doing these Rockette-style leg kicks. It’s hilarious and terrifying all at once. Robbie Robertson and Levon Helm are visible in the background, grinning like idiots because they know they’re witnessing a miracle. Van finishes the set, drops the mic, and marches off stage without a word. He didn't even stick around for the applause. He just walked straight out of the building.
Why The Last Waltz Van Morrison Performance Still Matters
In a film filled with polished professionals and cool-as-ice rock stars, Van Morrison was the only one who felt dangerous. Neil Young had a literal "blob" of cocaine in his nose (which Scorsese had to rotoscope out later). Bob Dylan was acting like a sphinx. But Van? Van was raw.
Most people get it wrong when they talk about this performance. They think he was drunk. While there were definitely "dark drinks" flowing backstage that night, the performance was fueled by adrenaline and a desperate need to reclaim his spot at the top.
Technical Brilliance in the Chaos
Scorsese’s filming of "Caravan" is a masterclass. He used seven 35mm cameras, a first for a music doc. While the cameras were nearly missed for Muddy Waters and Dylan almost pulled out of the filming entirely, the coverage of Van is intimate.
The lighting caught every bead of sweat and every glint off those sequins. It made a short man look ten feet tall. Even Eric Clapton, who was there that night, later admitted that Van and Muddy Waters "stole the show."
Honestly, the chemistry between Van and The Band was singular. The Band were like "mushrooms in an entree"—they took on the flavor of whoever they were backing. With Van, they became a high-octane R&B unit. They weren't just backing a singer; they were chasing him.
What You Can Learn From Van's Five Minutes
The "Caravan" performance is more than just a cool YouTube clip. It’s a lesson in "giving yourself over" to the work.
If you're looking to dive deeper into why The Last Waltz Van Morrison moment is so legendary, don't just watch the movie. Listen to the 2002 box set. You can hear the "Tura Lura Lural" duet with Richard Manuel, which was cut from the original theatrical release but shows a much more tender, vulnerable side of the night.
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Next Steps for the Fan:
- Watch the "Caravan" sequence on a high-definition screen. Pay attention to Levon Helm’s drumming; he’s essentially "pushing" Van with every beat.
- Compare it to "It's Too Late to Stop Now." This 1974 live album is Van at his peak, and it shows that the energy at the Last Waltz wasn't a fluke—it was a refinement.
- Read Robbie Robertson’s "Testimony." He gives a firsthand account of the backstage jitters and the relief the Band felt when Van finally "found the pocket."
The Last Waltz wasn't just the end of an era for The Band. For Van Morrison, it was a reminder that even when you're scared, even when your clothes don't fit, and even when you've been away too long, you can still kick the doors down if you just turn up the radio.