Van Morrison, Astral Weeks.  1968.  This album is an insightful and penetrating introspection without ever falling into pure naval gazing.  And, nobody writes better about the beginnings of love than Van Morrison.  Possibly there exists something profound in the Celtic soul.  Chesterton argued that the Irish were those the Gods made mad.  Perhaps, this explains something.  Or not.  As I understand it, the album was done in only three sessions with the jazz musicians–who had never met one another–being given the music when they entered the studio.  Happily, it possesses of the overproduced pop sound of its predecessor, Brown Eyed Girl.  Astral Weeks is perfect for an autumn day.  Or, really, for any day.