"Rock poet" has become almost a dirty word in critical parlance, invoking Moody Blues florid gush or worse. Matching verse to music is still a valid activity, however, provided the words aren't intended primarily for the printed page and the resulting song is strong on record.

At his best, Van Morrison achieves this synthesis. Though barely coherent on paper, his lyrics take on a brooding power when sung, seeming like great wisdom even if they border on nonsense. On Astral Weeks, Morrison set gloriously elusive images to a baroque jazz blend, proving himself a true rock poet—a versifier who was also a skilled musician.

Common One, to be up-front, isn't Astral Weeks; the spark of melancholic abandoned genius which graced the earlier record is only present sporadically. Morrison's latest is a mannered, thoroughly professional effort, slick even when the singer attempts to cut loose and dive headlong...