Teenage fan clubs go all the way back to Frank Sinatra and his, hysterical Bobby Soxers. In time, many bands attracted specialist fans and hierarchies of followers. The Beatles had the Apple Scruffs, who inspired a couple of songs and once they even sang backing vocals in the studio.
U2 were followed around the world by the Zootopians, who populated the inside of the heart-shaped catwalk and made synchronized gestures at significant points in the set. Bob Dylan is accompanied by his all-knowing Bobcats while the Grateful Dead have their Deadheads.
In more recent years we’ve been introduced to the Beliebers (cheers Justin), the Sheeranators (likewise Ed) and those admirers of 30 Seconds To Mars. Call them The Echelon or “the family” but never rabid obsessives without a life.
Which brings us to Van Morrison. I’ve heard the term Vanatic being used on occasions, and also Vanorak. What cannot be disputed is that the singer has some very dedicated people attending his shows. I mentioned this in a previous blog when I saw Van perform at the Strand Cinema in Belfast. In his mature years, he has taken to playing many intimate, local gigs and we’re seeing a steady stream of international visitors, who arrive, take in the show, see a bit of local colour and visit some of the places (the Vanscapes) associated with the artist’s songs. The internet has made this more organised and seemingly, a most enjoyable chunk of cultural tourism.
Thanks to a Facebook threadI now know that Mike Millard is the chap that I met at the pre-Strand gig reception. He seems like an intelligent, affable guy. Given that he has witnessed close to 1,000 Van gigs over his lifetime, then we might assume that he’s the fan’s fan, a champion Moondancer, an Astral Freak, the Vanimator.
