No disco, no party, no foolin’ around – here we find Van Morrison by turns enraptured and embittered, on an album that is never less than engrossing and which is occasionally sublime.

As in most of his recent work, matters spiritual and mystical prevail, infusing the lyrics with much heavy, religious symbolism. Van may indeed have abandoned guru, method and teacher but only it seems, to strike a more direct mainline to the father, son and holy ghost who are present and correct – along with “you and I and nature”– ‘In The Garden’, the song which lends the album its title.

Now, speaking in my capacity as a card-carrying heathen and all round hell-raiser, I have to admit that I find this particular speech of the heart difficult to stomach, but thankfully the music sweetens the pill, here and elsewhere.

In keeping with the dominant lyrical concerns of No Guru, the soundtracks Morrison has arranged go far beyond secular rock’n’roll and the sound of the city, and, well, once more into the mystic. From the serene, classical oboe on ‘Got To Go Back’ to the rich, almost regal brass of ‘Foreign Window’, the aural landmarks seem to set the music in pastoral, ancient places. No surprise then to find a song here actually called ‘Tir Na nOg’, swathed in elegant strings. But what about ‘Here Comes The Knight’? Is Van a secret fan of Sam Snort? A heartening thought but unlikely, since the lyrics go on to echo Yeats’ lines about the horsemen and the whole thing is obviously in earnest despite the bizarreness of the image of The Belfast Cowboy as a crusader “on the road with my sword/And my shield in my hand”.

But even as you’re dumfounded by the realisation that what appears to be a wonderfully awful pun on Van’s back-pages is intended to be treated seriously, the music is tugging you closer to the heart of the matter, and by the end of the song the memorable, melodic refrain of “this love will surely last forever” is assured of a lasting place on your domestic jukebox. Of No Guru, No Method, No Teachers’ ten tracks, only three are distinctly uptempo. They also, coincidentally or otherwise, find Van at his most acerbic.

‘Thanks For The Information’, has him grumbling about “dime a dozen people” who start “coming out of the woodwork” when “you’re onto something big.” Fortunately, Van, as we all know, one of the most soulful grumblers in the biz, and bolstered further by another stirring chorus, Richie Buckley’s faraway sax and a sinuous guitar riff, the result is a lesson in how to make sour grapes taste sweet.

‘Ivory Tower’, the single, finds Van stepping out on Positively 4th Street to take a sideswipe at a passing fat-cat who sounds like he could be a record company Mr. Big. It’s standard, pacy blues number but in the hands of a master craftsman like Morrison, these things always sound great.

And that leaves the album’s best and most controversial track. ‘A Town Called Paradise’ opens with the now famous lines about “copycat” plagiarists, first noted at Self-Aid and more recently amplified in a Melody Maker interview. Personally, I think our Van could do with learning some basic manners and would also humbly point out that on this album ‘Foreign Window’ bears at least a passing resemblance to Dylan’s ‘Big Girl Now’. However, I won’t labour this point in cast I should ever run into Van or worse, he asks me to be his manager.

Anyway, suffice to say that once he gets the poison up, the song takes off into a tour de force along the lines of the live version of ‘Summertime In England’, Morrison himself moving from a whisper whisper to a shout while the guitar grooves, the rhythm section pulsates, the backing girls go ‘doo-da-dooh’ and the brass peals like bells.

So, Van Morrison and No Guru No Method, No Teacher: a quare man but great stuff.