Entertainment

ERICH SCHLEGEL/DMN

Van Morrison blew on the sax, but hardly blew away the crowd, at Austin's La Zona Rosa.

AUSTIN – South by Southwest usually focuses on young buzz bands eager to make their mark. But this year, the opening-night buzz belonged to a cranky geezer who made his mark 44 years ago: Van Morrison.The 62-year-old legend drew an overflow crowd Wednesday night to La Zona Rosa, where he played a set that was puzzling at times, transcendent at others, but never predictable. In other words, it was classic Van the Man.

He strode onstage wearing a fedora, sunglasses and a hard-core poker face. After a few minutes, he finally acknowledged the audience.

"If someone will turn off that mobile phone, we'll get started," he huffed.

Uh-oh. When the Irish Cowboy turns surly, things can get ugly.

But alas, they never did. Mr. Morrison dove headfirst into the music, immersing himself in the songs, the lyrics and his trademark flights of scat singing. The word "C'mon" turned into a 20-syllable jazz poem. "Bluh bluh" became a 30-second gospel epiphany.

By the end of the hourlong set, he was moaning the blues in a deep voice like the second coming of Howlin' Wolf.

Backed by a tight 11-piece band, he spent most of the show previewing songs from Keep It Simple, his 33rd studio CD, which is due out next month. In "No Thing" and "End of the Land," he brokered a smooth marriage of twang and soul à la Ray Charles' Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music.

He played sax. He played ukulele. But he didn't play a single hit – not even "Moondance," his usual concession to his glory days.

The no-hits approach didn't exactly thrill the audience, which was heavy on music-biz types seeing him for the first time. Instead of cheering after band members soloed – as fans did in December at Dallas' Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center – the audience stood quietly, apparently saving their applause for "Brown-Eyed Girl."

But "Girl" was a no-show, reminding you that Van Morrison isn't a crowd-pleaser – even when the crowd's filled with music-biz VIPs