Featuring a mild glam rock stomp in it's fluid playing this song is a wonderful late period single which seems, to my ears at least, to be very sardonic in its subject matter.
Chronicling an unknown future time when all concerns will be assuaged and issues worked out I do believe this is Morrissey addressing himself regarding his persistent obsessions and recurring fears. It's all here, an overwhelming pre-occupation with death, the pitfalls of love, the appreciation for a soul who could provide it but the song has its tongue firmly in its cheek. It's the Morrissey of 2006, a time when he was in fact riding pretty high having fun at our expense with his own take on the themes best shown in the rat pack classic "The Best is Yet to Come".
It's a riposte to all those people who see someone with a sullen expression and rudely interject with that most dispiriting of phrases, "Cheer up, it might never happen." The song seems to take this false and myopic cheer and filter it through a healthy dose of irony. Is there really a "Lee" who could stand up and defend him? It doesn't matter, Morrissey is singing to an archetype here, a friend to see this new future with and although all will be well there, the song has the odd lurch with its "paired off, pawed til I can barely stand it" lyric, we must wonder just how secure this brave new world of joy really is. In various media the future is so often portrayed as a dystopia but here Moz gives us perhaps a flawed Utopian take on the "wait and see" notion. Time will never erase the things which plague him no matter where this world goes. Some things are just eternal. Morrissey finding faults and crooning about them is one such stalwart and his diatribes will echo long after his personal future is ended by his own "long, long sleep."
From a musical point of view the song is a triumph, a comfortable mid tempo rocker where the keyboard and backing vocals give it an extra colour and weight. The production of Tony Visconti locks the piece in a wonderful if slightly cluttered groove. One could almost paraphrase an old b-side of his here the song "Girl Least Likely to", ""There's happiness,...in the new year" (It's never in this year)."
Video Note: A loose sequel of sorts to the "You have killed me" video it features the same Italian host introducing Morrissey in a very bright and garish studio. This follows on from the Eurovision chic of the previous video. It's a shame they didn't see this through with the other singles as it would have given a great cohesion to the videos as well as a wry aesthetic narrative. His videos are so often bland. A good idea should be seized upon.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Satan Rejected My Soul
A fairly perfunctory re thread on the theme of not belonging, Morrissey has tackled this with more flair in the past and with much more identity. Like a lot of songs from this era of his career, there's nothing particularly wrong with the piece but there's nothing really to recommend it either. Outside the already loyal, this tune sank as its rather low chart placing proved (although perversely it did better than the comparatively sprightlier and altogether more fun "Roy's Keen") that maybe it was time for a break.
It's a one joke song and while the central conceit is a good one, Satan himself can't even take to the so called "Pope of Mope" it's disappointing that there's not a new twist elsewhere in the work. I guess self deprecation pops up so often within his songs, finding a new wrinkle is going to be impossible each time.
The music itself is again standard Morrissey, a slightly personality-less run through of indie tropes and soft rock cliches. Live the song packs much more of a punch boosted by the mans natural theatrics and stage presence. This wilder streak is absent from the somewhat sterile studio version. Limping out as third single from the unloved but underrated Maladjusted album there's no wonder it stalled whatever momentum Team Moz had until 7 years later as he made a remarkable comeback. Satan may have rejected him then but Lazarus surely must have returned his phone call circa 2004.
It's a one joke song and while the central conceit is a good one, Satan himself can't even take to the so called "Pope of Mope" it's disappointing that there's not a new twist elsewhere in the work. I guess self deprecation pops up so often within his songs, finding a new wrinkle is going to be impossible each time.
The music itself is again standard Morrissey, a slightly personality-less run through of indie tropes and soft rock cliches. Live the song packs much more of a punch boosted by the mans natural theatrics and stage presence. This wilder streak is absent from the somewhat sterile studio version. Limping out as third single from the unloved but underrated Maladjusted album there's no wonder it stalled whatever momentum Team Moz had until 7 years later as he made a remarkable comeback. Satan may have rejected him then but Lazarus surely must have returned his phone call circa 2004.
Let Me Kiss You
Given as a gift to Nancy Sinatra for her 2004 self titled album, "Let Me Kiss You" is a gorgeous song of yearning and inevitable romantic disappointment. So yes, it has a lot of brother and sisters within Morrisseys songbook but the songs irresitable melody and phrasing elevate it above more standard fare. It was even a modest hit for Mozzer when released as a single.
What I find interesting about the song is how its protagonist seems to romanticise the wrong elements. The act of kissing is seen as something which must go hand in hand with a fiction of some sort while America is presented as a mythic "place in the sun, for anyone who has the will to chase one". Having fled England and found a home in Los Angeles this section seems fairly auto biographical for our star. However well travelled he may be in life or in love, true romantic contenement seems to still be an unknown destination and in its place the singer would take sympathy over anything else.
The hang dog persona here is comically underlined with the chorus, a wonderfully wry self put down, "close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire and let me kiss you." How many of us have had that person in our life, whom we deeply care for but who could never see us in that light? The idea that the person would have to fake an attraction for you should be off putting enough to effectively end any sort of courtship but not so here. Desperate enough to take whatever love can be caught the person we're given would brave personal scorn for a chance to fully connect to something. It's a lonely world of closed eyes but opened hearts and whether sang by Nancy or Morrissey the songs melancholy can not be dismissed, nor can its truthful humour be denied. Close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire and throw this song on.
What I find interesting about the song is how its protagonist seems to romanticise the wrong elements. The act of kissing is seen as something which must go hand in hand with a fiction of some sort while America is presented as a mythic "place in the sun, for anyone who has the will to chase one". Having fled England and found a home in Los Angeles this section seems fairly auto biographical for our star. However well travelled he may be in life or in love, true romantic contenement seems to still be an unknown destination and in its place the singer would take sympathy over anything else.
The hang dog persona here is comically underlined with the chorus, a wonderfully wry self put down, "close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire and let me kiss you." How many of us have had that person in our life, whom we deeply care for but who could never see us in that light? The idea that the person would have to fake an attraction for you should be off putting enough to effectively end any sort of courtship but not so here. Desperate enough to take whatever love can be caught the person we're given would brave personal scorn for a chance to fully connect to something. It's a lonely world of closed eyes but opened hearts and whether sang by Nancy or Morrissey the songs melancholy can not be dismissed, nor can its truthful humour be denied. Close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire and throw this song on.
Angel, Angel Down We Go Together
A surprisingly direct and austere plea from the Viva Hate album it almost seems redundant to discuss this song as Morrissey himself explicitly spoke about it in a refreshingly frank manner. For the record here is what the man himself had to say about it:
"It was written with Johnny Marr in mind and it is the only song that I have written with him in mind, post Smiths. I saw him in the music industry being used and being pushed around and being manipulated and I felt I was in a situation and I thought, 'Look at me, look at you - it's the same, it's a mess and this is as far as we will go' which wasn't quite true in the end but at that moment it felt pretty despairing for both, I felt despairing for both of us but I was wrong."
The song has expanded beyond that remit though and has become a touchstone to many, especially as it deals with quite unsettling subject matter. Themes of suicide and have long been in his work and to me, that should be the focal point here, rather than another tirade at the music business, a ridiculously easy and overexposed target for artists. As a fan base people who follow Morrissey can be quite critical of his actions even as they track his career so fervently. However this song is always discussed in the most revered of ways and perhaps it's the genuine emotion on display. It is the meeting point of Morrisseys honesty (which pops up far more frequently than people give him credit for) and his overriding sense of theatricality. Set to a string section reminiscent of "Eleanor Rigby" the track exudes a timeless quality and its musical bedding remains unique within his canon. It stands as the song to coax people back from the brink. For all the lazy assumptions of misanthropy Moz is secretly a humanist of sorts. Perhaps the rabble disappoint him more often than not but I hold to the idea that he fundamentally believes in the potential of people. Many accuse him of self absorption and arrogance, but he has so many songs of naked emotion, exemplified here with the claim "I love you more than life." An ode to Marr or not, this could be a promise of unconditional love to his fans and although Morrissey may be far from an angel, that love is certainly reciprocated by so many of us.
"It was written with Johnny Marr in mind and it is the only song that I have written with him in mind, post Smiths. I saw him in the music industry being used and being pushed around and being manipulated and I felt I was in a situation and I thought, 'Look at me, look at you - it's the same, it's a mess and this is as far as we will go' which wasn't quite true in the end but at that moment it felt pretty despairing for both, I felt despairing for both of us but I was wrong."
The song has expanded beyond that remit though and has become a touchstone to many, especially as it deals with quite unsettling subject matter. Themes of suicide and have long been in his work and to me, that should be the focal point here, rather than another tirade at the music business, a ridiculously easy and overexposed target for artists. As a fan base people who follow Morrissey can be quite critical of his actions even as they track his career so fervently. However this song is always discussed in the most revered of ways and perhaps it's the genuine emotion on display. It is the meeting point of Morrisseys honesty (which pops up far more frequently than people give him credit for) and his overriding sense of theatricality. Set to a string section reminiscent of "Eleanor Rigby" the track exudes a timeless quality and its musical bedding remains unique within his canon. It stands as the song to coax people back from the brink. For all the lazy assumptions of misanthropy Moz is secretly a humanist of sorts. Perhaps the rabble disappoint him more often than not but I hold to the idea that he fundamentally believes in the potential of people. Many accuse him of self absorption and arrogance, but he has so many songs of naked emotion, exemplified here with the claim "I love you more than life." An ode to Marr or not, this could be a promise of unconditional love to his fans and although Morrissey may be far from an angel, that love is certainly reciprocated by so many of us.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Honey you know where to find me
An outtake from Southpaw Grammar which was recently dusted off and included on to the re-issue of that album, this is a lightly rocking gem of a song. It may have been left off due to the fact that it wouldn't have suited the more intense atmosphere of the work around it but I think it might have broken up the gloom of the piece much more efficiently than "Best Friend on the Payroll" for example.
It's a reassuring mission statement that Morrissey is, to borrow from Talking Heads, "the same as he ever was". So at ease is he now with his personality he has no desire to change or adapt. This long held self confidence has long been a trait and is the counterpoint to his more doubtful side which more often than not pops up on the "weepies" in his body of work.
The cheer of this song seems a little forced however, suggesting that whatever his feelings are regarding his current state, he has at least considered the alternative option. He has decided to carry on as he always has and that is great news for the fans. It tells us that whenever we need the sentiments he so often sings about we'll always know where exactly to go for his unique brand of solace. Mixed a little indifferently, no doubt the fate of a song left behind, it could be a bigger production and would benefit from such care but maybe a low key mix is a perfect fit for its modest, well trodden themes.
It's a reassuring mission statement that Morrissey is, to borrow from Talking Heads, "the same as he ever was". So at ease is he now with his personality he has no desire to change or adapt. This long held self confidence has long been a trait and is the counterpoint to his more doubtful side which more often than not pops up on the "weepies" in his body of work.
The cheer of this song seems a little forced however, suggesting that whatever his feelings are regarding his current state, he has at least considered the alternative option. He has decided to carry on as he always has and that is great news for the fans. It tells us that whenever we need the sentiments he so often sings about we'll always know where exactly to go for his unique brand of solace. Mixed a little indifferently, no doubt the fate of a song left behind, it could be a bigger production and would benefit from such care but maybe a low key mix is a perfect fit for its modest, well trodden themes.
Tomorrow
This was the song that got me into Morrissey solo. Already being a devout Smiths fan I did feel a certain sense of trepidation approaching his solo work. How many wonderful artists have fallen apart once divorced from the chemistry of their previous collaborators? It's always a gamble.
The surge of this song hooked me, the soaring guitars, the strident bass, its a sublime piece of music which announced that Morrissey had finally arrived at the style he was comfortable with and would largely follow for the rest of his career, thus far anyway. Maybe a salsa concept album this time next year Mozzer? Lyrically the song is entrenched in his usual woes, the love that could come from someone close but is never actually delivered. That story is old, but it goes on. There's a danger and I'm doing it a lot here of assigning a personal story to his songs cause sometimes it doesn't appear to be about him and that is his prerogative, but I have no doubt that this is touching on real issues for the man.
In magnificent voice throughout the music allows all the breathing room for this pitch perfect romantic diatribe which reads as as sincere plea for affection first in an embrace, and then confirmed with a declaration. He would seem to be happy with a mere false claim of this love and that desperation is beautifully drawn. We all need to hear those words sometimes and we'll take them, whatever the caveats may be. The sickly demeanour of old is here as well, seeing as his "shiftless body" seems so weak that the inevitable rejection and the encroach of tomorrow might just finish him off. A song I'd offer to those unsure of Morrissey as a solo artist, it has the confidence of old but blessed with the possibilities of the future. Morrissey records aren't exactly praised for their musical flourishes but I feel all here deserve due credit for finding a nice band friendly arrangement to house this romantic ode. A great closer on the Your Arsenal record, a real release to that albums turbulent content and a perfect starting point for me as a fan. This blog wouldn't exist, If I hadn't embraced "Tomorrow".
Video note: Directed by Zack Snyder, of "Watchmen", "300" and soon to be "Superman" fame this video is another great "gang video" with Morrissey magnetically holding the screen throughout. Considering his allure, it's a small wonder videos have never been his forte but this does the job admirably, all the better for the gaffe he makes on "I won't tell anybody" line where he mimes "I won't tell anyone" instead. The look he gives is a wry self put down but he quickly dismisses it and continues on unbowed. A genuine error but delicious in the way it illustrates the inherent artifice of the music video as an art form.
The surge of this song hooked me, the soaring guitars, the strident bass, its a sublime piece of music which announced that Morrissey had finally arrived at the style he was comfortable with and would largely follow for the rest of his career, thus far anyway. Maybe a salsa concept album this time next year Mozzer? Lyrically the song is entrenched in his usual woes, the love that could come from someone close but is never actually delivered. That story is old, but it goes on. There's a danger and I'm doing it a lot here of assigning a personal story to his songs cause sometimes it doesn't appear to be about him and that is his prerogative, but I have no doubt that this is touching on real issues for the man.
In magnificent voice throughout the music allows all the breathing room for this pitch perfect romantic diatribe which reads as as sincere plea for affection first in an embrace, and then confirmed with a declaration. He would seem to be happy with a mere false claim of this love and that desperation is beautifully drawn. We all need to hear those words sometimes and we'll take them, whatever the caveats may be. The sickly demeanour of old is here as well, seeing as his "shiftless body" seems so weak that the inevitable rejection and the encroach of tomorrow might just finish him off. A song I'd offer to those unsure of Morrissey as a solo artist, it has the confidence of old but blessed with the possibilities of the future. Morrissey records aren't exactly praised for their musical flourishes but I feel all here deserve due credit for finding a nice band friendly arrangement to house this romantic ode. A great closer on the Your Arsenal record, a real release to that albums turbulent content and a perfect starting point for me as a fan. This blog wouldn't exist, If I hadn't embraced "Tomorrow".
Video note: Directed by Zack Snyder, of "Watchmen", "300" and soon to be "Superman" fame this video is another great "gang video" with Morrissey magnetically holding the screen throughout. Considering his allure, it's a small wonder videos have never been his forte but this does the job admirably, all the better for the gaffe he makes on "I won't tell anybody" line where he mimes "I won't tell anyone" instead. The look he gives is a wry self put down but he quickly dismisses it and continues on unbowed. A genuine error but delicious in the way it illustrates the inherent artifice of the music video as an art form.
Billy Budd
This short sharp shock is one of the rockiest moments of the quite mellow affair that is Vauxhall and I. Taking its title from the Herman Melville novella of the same name, many believe this is a veiled reference to Morrisseys former band mate Johnny Marr. Certainly the timeline fits, as the song states, "it's 12 years on" which in 1994 would have been accurate. The "love" between Johnny Marr and Morrissey can not be overstated and each are vital to the others story. "Billy Budd" might be a musical cousin to the Smiths song "I Won't Share" you which allegedly discusses the same relationship. Together these two artists forged a legacy which thrives to this day but it is very presumptuous of us to assume we can glean anything about a very complicated connection through what he have presented here. Still as always, it's fun to speculate.
The story of Billy Budd has long been associated with themes of repressed homosexuality and the potential persecution of such feelings. Ridicule and oppression is sprinkled throughout the song, people laugh, job applications are turned down and it may all be because of "what is in our eyes."
To me the song could be referring to any sort of regret, that no matter where you are, your past associations are still a factor of how you're perceived in the here and now. Morrissey had to prove himself a great deal as a solo artist and there were inevitable ups and downs. Is he blaming the past for any such hiccups, or is he just reflecting on old relationships from the vantage point of a man who felt he had at last arrived? Much talk of the time declared this album would be his last and could he have let that moment come without mentioning the elephant in the room or even "the one who got away"? Do either of these terms apply to the subject of this song? I guess we'll never know. Of course this wasn't the end of his story, he continues to travel on to this day leaving a million mysteries in his wake, since we as fans, "took up with him".
The story of Billy Budd has long been associated with themes of repressed homosexuality and the potential persecution of such feelings. Ridicule and oppression is sprinkled throughout the song, people laugh, job applications are turned down and it may all be because of "what is in our eyes."
To me the song could be referring to any sort of regret, that no matter where you are, your past associations are still a factor of how you're perceived in the here and now. Morrissey had to prove himself a great deal as a solo artist and there were inevitable ups and downs. Is he blaming the past for any such hiccups, or is he just reflecting on old relationships from the vantage point of a man who felt he had at last arrived? Much talk of the time declared this album would be his last and could he have let that moment come without mentioning the elephant in the room or even "the one who got away"? Do either of these terms apply to the subject of this song? I guess we'll never know. Of course this wasn't the end of his story, he continues to travel on to this day leaving a million mysteries in his wake, since we as fans, "took up with him".
Monday, January 24, 2011
Roy's Keen
Southpaw Grammar had been such a dour album that it was a relief that when perusing the song titles on follow up Maladjusted (surely one of the first things every Morrissey fan does, the man knows how to name a tune) we were greeted with two songs named with puns and both were subsequently released as singles. The towering "Alma Matters" was seen as vintage Morrissey, and still garners great respect from those who otherwise would dismiss the whole record. This innocuous character piece named as a play on footballer Roy Keane, has not fared so well.
Its certainly inessential as far as his work goes, an agreeable ditty which has jovial word play but it hardly means all that much. But then when has pop ever been the province of depth? Give me a soaring guitar line and a great chorus and I'll be happy. Certain songs engage the mind or take you on journeys. These are worthy and are taken seriously but the song that makes your toe tap, gets your head bobbing, it's simply wrong to assign them no such worth. Well placed "la la las" can be just as vital as a probing lyric or great turn of phrase.
Like the previously discussed "Dagenham Dave" this seems to over romanticise a rather ordinary individual, a window cleaner who fancies himself as quite the ladies man and the song is littered with what I believe is innuendo. He "gets into every corner" and "its right under your nose". Settle down Moz! It all plays like some arch "Carry on film" about a bit of "rough and tumble" with the domestic who's "a bit of alright". Okay I'll stop writing like that straight away. The song is good fun and nothing else really has to be said about it. At a time when people were kicking him when he was down I believe this song acted as a lightning rod of criticism. Needlessly so, as it stands as a perfect example of the Morrissey comic song, more enjoyable than that Dagenham lad he mentioned and more accessible than a boy racer he had discussed. It sort of stands right in the middle of the Morrissey quality threshold. How ironic that this parituclar song should be in a real mid field postion like that.
Its certainly inessential as far as his work goes, an agreeable ditty which has jovial word play but it hardly means all that much. But then when has pop ever been the province of depth? Give me a soaring guitar line and a great chorus and I'll be happy. Certain songs engage the mind or take you on journeys. These are worthy and are taken seriously but the song that makes your toe tap, gets your head bobbing, it's simply wrong to assign them no such worth. Well placed "la la las" can be just as vital as a probing lyric or great turn of phrase.
Like the previously discussed "Dagenham Dave" this seems to over romanticise a rather ordinary individual, a window cleaner who fancies himself as quite the ladies man and the song is littered with what I believe is innuendo. He "gets into every corner" and "its right under your nose". Settle down Moz! It all plays like some arch "Carry on film" about a bit of "rough and tumble" with the domestic who's "a bit of alright". Okay I'll stop writing like that straight away. The song is good fun and nothing else really has to be said about it. At a time when people were kicking him when he was down I believe this song acted as a lightning rod of criticism. Needlessly so, as it stands as a perfect example of the Morrissey comic song, more enjoyable than that Dagenham lad he mentioned and more accessible than a boy racer he had discussed. It sort of stands right in the middle of the Morrissey quality threshold. How ironic that this parituclar song should be in a real mid field postion like that.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Boxers
A superb single blessed with a real stately assured confidence that was inexplicably left off Vauxhall and I it continues Morrisseys (occasionally) tedious fascination with pugilism. The subject would continue to intrigue him into his next album but for my money this was his finest example of marrying his new obsession to the observant writer of old, not letting his new found passion swamp his song writing guile.
"Boxers" has the tone of a short story,details teased out, characters sketched broadly but incisively, it's a world of weary wives and innocent nephews as varying examples of life outside the ring. I enjoy the spectrum shown here, that for the good of being and example to a young boy not yet jaded by life's tragedies, in other ways his love for this world is destroying his more adult relationships. The narrator is a third party, and the relationship is unclear but there is a real tenderness to the tone here, it's an omniscient eye but it is not cold and unfeeling. The idea that the singer must "dry his eyes" means he is feeling every punch and every bruise.
The idea of failure permeates the entire song, with the fighter "losing in front of your home town". Although riding high from the success of his Vauxhall era here Morrissey had had that moment many times over the course of his career, a constant struggle to prove himself from a crowd wishing him to fail. His eagerness to overcome this stigma seems to feed into the resignation conveyed in this song. There's a heavy tone here of defeat regardless of the passion one has for their choice of career.
Musically the melody rises and falls in a beautifully understated design, his voice lending just the right slight inflections to give a sense of a life spiralling further out of control. The tiniest changes in the later lines speak volumes such as "your nephew is true, he STILL thinks the world of you" and it shows a sly command of ever escalating domestic drama. An often overlooked single that might be about a very insular side to the artist, an interest we may not necessarily share, but with its gorgeous melody it is easy to become briefly enamoured of the sport and the souls it can ensnare.
"Boxers" has the tone of a short story,details teased out, characters sketched broadly but incisively, it's a world of weary wives and innocent nephews as varying examples of life outside the ring. I enjoy the spectrum shown here, that for the good of being and example to a young boy not yet jaded by life's tragedies, in other ways his love for this world is destroying his more adult relationships. The narrator is a third party, and the relationship is unclear but there is a real tenderness to the tone here, it's an omniscient eye but it is not cold and unfeeling. The idea that the singer must "dry his eyes" means he is feeling every punch and every bruise.
The idea of failure permeates the entire song, with the fighter "losing in front of your home town". Although riding high from the success of his Vauxhall era here Morrissey had had that moment many times over the course of his career, a constant struggle to prove himself from a crowd wishing him to fail. His eagerness to overcome this stigma seems to feed into the resignation conveyed in this song. There's a heavy tone here of defeat regardless of the passion one has for their choice of career.
Musically the melody rises and falls in a beautifully understated design, his voice lending just the right slight inflections to give a sense of a life spiralling further out of control. The tiniest changes in the later lines speak volumes such as "your nephew is true, he STILL thinks the world of you" and it shows a sly command of ever escalating domestic drama. An often overlooked single that might be about a very insular side to the artist, an interest we may not necessarily share, but with its gorgeous melody it is easy to become briefly enamoured of the sport and the souls it can ensnare.
The Operation
A song of three distinct parts, only the middle section bearing the usual indie constructs we associate with Morrissey, this schizophrenic offering is a tense examination of someone who has been fundamentally altered following a procedure of some sort and how others now view the "patient".
Coming from the much maligned Southpaw Grammar album which is recognised as an attempt of trying to broaden his approach to more prog rock horizons, "The Operation" should be viewed as a tour de force of progression of form if nothing else. No other Moz song has ever began with an intro that has so distanced the man from the song. A slow building 2 minute plus drum solo by Spencer Cobrin eventually gives way to the more traditional see sawing rhythms of your standard Morrissey track but it is a very compelling one, discussing how much a character has changed since undergoing a mysterious operation.
The narrative details how the person in question now says "clever things" and "pleasant things" when before this would not have been the case. This points to the fact that whatever has been done to the subject it has changed their personality and their interactions with the world at large. Physical factors are not mentioned at all really. The most common theory about this song is that it is in regards to a sex change operation but I think it could also mean a lobotomy or any sort of psychological corrective measures, like shock therapy. The brief hints we get seem to indicate that the person in question is wild, unruly and violent. The criminal as an archetype has long fascinated Morrissey and it could be after witnessing the fate which could befall such a person, Moz has pulled back and his affection has curdled into sadness and regret, "sad to say how once I was in love with you...".
The third section then explodes into a chaotic brew of guitar feedback and frantic percussion, nudging Morrissey closer to the the thrash genre than ever before. This heavy outro seems to be the catharsis the song has been saving since that first drum beat and acts as an aural metaphor for the dichotomy at the heart of the story. A persons internal makeup is rife with contradiction and shifting moods. External forces weigh heavy and this song seeks to deal with the reconciliation of such matters. To take from the song itself the music is both the right hand swinging in desperation and the left hand caressing with compassion.
Coming from the much maligned Southpaw Grammar album which is recognised as an attempt of trying to broaden his approach to more prog rock horizons, "The Operation" should be viewed as a tour de force of progression of form if nothing else. No other Moz song has ever began with an intro that has so distanced the man from the song. A slow building 2 minute plus drum solo by Spencer Cobrin eventually gives way to the more traditional see sawing rhythms of your standard Morrissey track but it is a very compelling one, discussing how much a character has changed since undergoing a mysterious operation.
The narrative details how the person in question now says "clever things" and "pleasant things" when before this would not have been the case. This points to the fact that whatever has been done to the subject it has changed their personality and their interactions with the world at large. Physical factors are not mentioned at all really. The most common theory about this song is that it is in regards to a sex change operation but I think it could also mean a lobotomy or any sort of psychological corrective measures, like shock therapy. The brief hints we get seem to indicate that the person in question is wild, unruly and violent. The criminal as an archetype has long fascinated Morrissey and it could be after witnessing the fate which could befall such a person, Moz has pulled back and his affection has curdled into sadness and regret, "sad to say how once I was in love with you...".
The third section then explodes into a chaotic brew of guitar feedback and frantic percussion, nudging Morrissey closer to the the thrash genre than ever before. This heavy outro seems to be the catharsis the song has been saving since that first drum beat and acts as an aural metaphor for the dichotomy at the heart of the story. A persons internal makeup is rife with contradiction and shifting moods. External forces weigh heavy and this song seeks to deal with the reconciliation of such matters. To take from the song itself the music is both the right hand swinging in desperation and the left hand caressing with compassion.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
You Have Killed Me
This gloriously melodramatic ode to love in its various forms and complications was for me a slow burner of a single. I remember being mildly disappointed when I first heard it, feeling that it lacked the immediate call to arms that "Irish Blood, English Heart" had as the lead off single of the previous album. It all felt that bit underwhelming.
However I was too quick to judge. Though entirely dependant on ones already established affection for the man and his work this is definitely Moz playing to the gallery and in its overly dramatic sweep it is easy to find its subtle virtues. The name dropping of "Pasolini","Visconti" and "Accatone" lets us know that Morrissey has fully embraced his Roman sojourn, soaking up the culture and allowing himself to have a little fun with it. The "Accatone" reference details a film about prostitutes,thieves and pimps and seems to be a veiled reference to that old staple of his, the allure and intoxication of crime. Even Rome has an underbelly that must be acknowledged.
Despite the seeming heartache the song seems in love with its own misery, swooning over a possible love affair against an exotic, culturally rich backdrop it could almost be an old film, the kitchen sink left out this time, but the Trevi Fountain substituted in its place.
Many have read into the "I entered nothing and nothing entered me, til you came with the key..." lyric viewing it as a brief description of a sexual act. Certainly Morrissey seems more engaged with carnal matters on this record and it would seem to fit. It very well could be, it's left vague enough to be saucy but at no point should we expect any confirmation of this. That's part of his magic as far as I'm concerned. However a more spiritual interpretation could be applied to these lines. Rome is a very holy city, the sacred (and profane?) is ingrained in its cultural identity. Could the feeling of religion be entering Moz as he sashays around the Eternal city? He did mention on the album beforehand that he had forgiven Jesus and here he bellows "And there is no point saying this again, but I forgive you". This could be a retread of his previous ecumenical absolution.
Featuring a strong confident vocal and with all the modest elements in place working, we have a great little song here. It's not revelatory by any means and nor would it hook the non-Moz fan but for its intent, and for the continuing saga of the artist, the "soap of Moz" as I call it, it's another engaging piece of the puzzle. A Roman holiday I always enjoy.
However I was too quick to judge. Though entirely dependant on ones already established affection for the man and his work this is definitely Moz playing to the gallery and in its overly dramatic sweep it is easy to find its subtle virtues. The name dropping of "Pasolini","Visconti" and "Accatone" lets us know that Morrissey has fully embraced his Roman sojourn, soaking up the culture and allowing himself to have a little fun with it. The "Accatone" reference details a film about prostitutes,thieves and pimps and seems to be a veiled reference to that old staple of his, the allure and intoxication of crime. Even Rome has an underbelly that must be acknowledged.
Despite the seeming heartache the song seems in love with its own misery, swooning over a possible love affair against an exotic, culturally rich backdrop it could almost be an old film, the kitchen sink left out this time, but the Trevi Fountain substituted in its place.
Many have read into the "I entered nothing and nothing entered me, til you came with the key..." lyric viewing it as a brief description of a sexual act. Certainly Morrissey seems more engaged with carnal matters on this record and it would seem to fit. It very well could be, it's left vague enough to be saucy but at no point should we expect any confirmation of this. That's part of his magic as far as I'm concerned. However a more spiritual interpretation could be applied to these lines. Rome is a very holy city, the sacred (and profane?) is ingrained in its cultural identity. Could the feeling of religion be entering Moz as he sashays around the Eternal city? He did mention on the album beforehand that he had forgiven Jesus and here he bellows "And there is no point saying this again, but I forgive you". This could be a retread of his previous ecumenical absolution.
Featuring a strong confident vocal and with all the modest elements in place working, we have a great little song here. It's not revelatory by any means and nor would it hook the non-Moz fan but for its intent, and for the continuing saga of the artist, the "soap of Moz" as I call it, it's another engaging piece of the puzzle. A Roman holiday I always enjoy.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Seasick,Yet Still Docked
A vulnerable ode to a total lack of confidence, this song has the quality of insistent rain, romantic if heard outside while you cosy up by the fire, devastating if caught in its downpour. There's a heavy quality to the compostion and in ways it seems the Morrissey solo equivalent of the desperately sad "Asleep" which can be found in the Smiths back catalogue. This does have a more world weary quality, the hallmarks of age, the disappointments that can bring to a lonely soul.
A subtle production style really emphasises the soulful nature of the piece, its musical backing seems to throb like a heartbeat, full of delightful turns but never overwhelming anything else. This is the music of apathy and while at other times Morrissey would turn this into bluster or fanfare, here he just lets it lie there, exhausted but absorbing.
Arrogance is conspicuous by its absence and would lead me to believe that this is an example of the facade faltering. Morrissey has always been a contradiction in this way (very much like REM's Michael Stipe), the extroverted introvert, the wallflower waltzer, if you will. Here he lacks the charm to attract the one he loves and it's quite upsetting for the listeners to hear such a defeated tone from our hero. If it had been presented in a more colourful context we might allow ourselves to get fired up, to rally against this despair but here it's easy to just shrug and agree. We in turn submit to the song. The title itself is a wonderfully succinct way of describing those self imposed feelings we can conjure from mere regret. The nervous quality of not being able to overcome ones own doubts and making yourself ill is a trademark of Morrisseys sickly Dickensian persona. It's rarer within his solo work but it does remain a thread of how he deals with "life's constant lows". Some of the old confidence is glimpsed in the closing lines "You must be such a fool to pass me by...". Whatever crisis befell the singer, one can only hope that the anchor has been lifted for the time being.
Regret, doubt, doomed romance, nihilism, our captain wants to take us through the course he has been charting for quite some time. All aboard.
A subtle production style really emphasises the soulful nature of the piece, its musical backing seems to throb like a heartbeat, full of delightful turns but never overwhelming anything else. This is the music of apathy and while at other times Morrissey would turn this into bluster or fanfare, here he just lets it lie there, exhausted but absorbing.
Arrogance is conspicuous by its absence and would lead me to believe that this is an example of the facade faltering. Morrissey has always been a contradiction in this way (very much like REM's Michael Stipe), the extroverted introvert, the wallflower waltzer, if you will. Here he lacks the charm to attract the one he loves and it's quite upsetting for the listeners to hear such a defeated tone from our hero. If it had been presented in a more colourful context we might allow ourselves to get fired up, to rally against this despair but here it's easy to just shrug and agree. We in turn submit to the song. The title itself is a wonderfully succinct way of describing those self imposed feelings we can conjure from mere regret. The nervous quality of not being able to overcome ones own doubts and making yourself ill is a trademark of Morrisseys sickly Dickensian persona. It's rarer within his solo work but it does remain a thread of how he deals with "life's constant lows". Some of the old confidence is glimpsed in the closing lines "You must be such a fool to pass me by...". Whatever crisis befell the singer, one can only hope that the anchor has been lifted for the time being.
Regret, doubt, doomed romance, nihilism, our captain wants to take us through the course he has been charting for quite some time. All aboard.
Why don't you find out for yourself?
There's a consensus amongst fans as to what this beautiful strum of a song is about but it's a very prosaic and one dimensional reading of it in my view. This is Morrissey biting the hand that feeds, taking on the music industry. Not the specific attack of "Paint A vulgar Picture" or the direct assault mentioned in "The World is Full Of Crashing Bores" this is a more a subdued criticism. Maybe the ire is buried under the understated arrangement but it is there as Moz mentions people who wish for your misery to continue so they can benefit from the art such pain creates. They "siphon all your dough" but we'll never believe him until we ourselves enter the arena.
This accusation of us questioning his sincerity goes back to the old public persona of Morrissey at the time of the Smiths. It formed the impetus for "The Boy with the Thorn in His Side" and his belief, mentioned in that song of us an audience, doubting his genuine concerns continues here.
The song has the qualities of an anthem, but a very passive aggressive one. Its subject feels oddly insular even as he's inviting us into the music world, a place where as he sings "the sanest days are mad". I believe this is a snapshot of the way he lives now, constantly paranoid of record company executives and fearful of daggers drawn up as swiftly as contracts are.
Despite the mention of "success" and "career" I believe it is shortchanging the song to consider it as only his view on music business hoopla. This is his take on everything from, his legal trouble to the pitfalls of romance. Music may be his life but the line, "sick down to my heart, that's just the way it goes" can't just refer to backstage shenanigans. There's a deeper dissatisfaction at work here, and to be honest as much as I value relatability when discussing Morrissey I'm more than happy to remain in the dark this time.
This accusation of us questioning his sincerity goes back to the old public persona of Morrissey at the time of the Smiths. It formed the impetus for "The Boy with the Thorn in His Side" and his belief, mentioned in that song of us an audience, doubting his genuine concerns continues here.
The song has the qualities of an anthem, but a very passive aggressive one. Its subject feels oddly insular even as he's inviting us into the music world, a place where as he sings "the sanest days are mad". I believe this is a snapshot of the way he lives now, constantly paranoid of record company executives and fearful of daggers drawn up as swiftly as contracts are.
Despite the mention of "success" and "career" I believe it is shortchanging the song to consider it as only his view on music business hoopla. This is his take on everything from, his legal trouble to the pitfalls of romance. Music may be his life but the line, "sick down to my heart, that's just the way it goes" can't just refer to backstage shenanigans. There's a deeper dissatisfaction at work here, and to be honest as much as I value relatability when discussing Morrissey I'm more than happy to remain in the dark this time.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
My Love Life
Even the title dispels our notions. Who knew he had one? This in between album single was a sea change for a few reasons. It was the last song he wrote with Mark E. Nevin before finding his post Johnny Marr group (which despite the detractors at the time, proved their staying power by working with the man to this very day) and it signalled that Morrissey had found his wayward "artistic voice" after an album or so of listlessness.
What I enjoy about this song is its style. For some time Morrissey was jumping between genres, be they indie, baroque pop and the latest, rockabilly. This gave him the sense of being somewhat rudderless. The honeymoon period of his first singles seemed like a hazy memory and I believe this song acted as a balm as well as a way forward. The song is a lazy mid tempo swoon and as such it has a relaxed light air. It crucially doesn't sound like it's trying too hard.
Lyrically it isn't at all. Sketching a vague love triangle in very low key terms, the song lacks an insight, skimming the surface of romantic affairs but offering no trick, no unique selling point on the matter. The singer sounds naive, like a child feeling around the contours of emotions too big for his own understanding. The simple plea of "I know you love one person, so why can't you love two?" is disarming in its simplistic way. The phrase "Give a little something to my love life" seems like a much softer version of the mans famous decree that "I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does" of some years prior. It's a very direct theme and its lyrics read quite plainly. The music however is a lovely smooth concoction drifting around Morrisseys voice with an ease that would not be heard again until the measured tones of Vauxhall and I. This is the kindle of a torch song, but not yet used to nurture that flame. The potential is there but the story is still too underdeveloped at this stage.
"My Love Life" was a breath of fresh air in the Morrissey canon,enough to shoo away some cobwebs before it's calm reserve would be replaced with the nervy energy of full on glam rock and the return of rockabilly to his sound. A glistening send off to the short lived Morrissey/Nevin partnership then, this mightn't have been his most incisive take on loves jagged edges but its focused mellowness certainly showed a different side to its author.
What I enjoy about this song is its style. For some time Morrissey was jumping between genres, be they indie, baroque pop and the latest, rockabilly. This gave him the sense of being somewhat rudderless. The honeymoon period of his first singles seemed like a hazy memory and I believe this song acted as a balm as well as a way forward. The song is a lazy mid tempo swoon and as such it has a relaxed light air. It crucially doesn't sound like it's trying too hard.
Lyrically it isn't at all. Sketching a vague love triangle in very low key terms, the song lacks an insight, skimming the surface of romantic affairs but offering no trick, no unique selling point on the matter. The singer sounds naive, like a child feeling around the contours of emotions too big for his own understanding. The simple plea of "I know you love one person, so why can't you love two?" is disarming in its simplistic way. The phrase "Give a little something to my love life" seems like a much softer version of the mans famous decree that "I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does" of some years prior. It's a very direct theme and its lyrics read quite plainly. The music however is a lovely smooth concoction drifting around Morrisseys voice with an ease that would not be heard again until the measured tones of Vauxhall and I. This is the kindle of a torch song, but not yet used to nurture that flame. The potential is there but the story is still too underdeveloped at this stage.
"My Love Life" was a breath of fresh air in the Morrissey canon,enough to shoo away some cobwebs before it's calm reserve would be replaced with the nervy energy of full on glam rock and the return of rockabilly to his sound. A glistening send off to the short lived Morrissey/Nevin partnership then, this mightn't have been his most incisive take on loves jagged edges but its focused mellowness certainly showed a different side to its author.
Our Frank
Easily one of his most underrated singles, "Our Frank" emerged from a time of crisis in the Morrissey camp. Kill Uncle was not the muscular solo album it needed to be following the compromised Bona Drag which when delivered was a compilation rather than a full fledged album.
Morrissey was still bouncing between collaborators, a steady partnership was sorely needed following the split from producer/co-writer Stephen Street who had been integral to shaping Viva Hate. Somehow Morrissey got hooked up with Mark E Nevin (of band Fairground Attraction) and through a letter writing corresponadance composed Kill Uncle. Maybe it was this removed form of writing which led to the many odd lurches of the album. Morrissey seems not only out of his comfort zone but rather adrift throughout much of the record and while it is perhaps a bit too lambasted its most pleasing moments are quite readily apparent.
It's no wonder this was the opener as it is the most in line with previous Morrissey singles and has a simple and direct melody to draw you in. The most atypical element of the track is the unusual character Morrissey plays in the song. The protagonist doesn't want any more "frank and open, deep conversations" which is strange since we all imagine those are the very things Morrissey would cherish if only to continuously pore over and analyse. The singer also makes stern demands for "a drink" which again clashes with our cosy idea of a teetotaler Moz. Maybe the man of old, the one who has so often given of his time to listen and obsess has, for the time being, reached his quota and is recoiling out of self preservation.
A red pullover is a cryptic clue in the story and come the songs end we see the singer is caught in an abyss of self loathing where his conversations seem to be with himself. While no stranger to self criticism he seems positively wracked in this one lamenting "Somebody stop me from thinking, From thinking all the time
So bleakly, so bleakly". It strikes me that the outro to this song could be a treatise on our voyeuristic nature concerning this mans work. While he craves the attention and puts out the material, we make jokes, we pass judgement on what is essentially a window into this mans Psyche. Im doing it right now and at a time when the audience was dwindling, his solo trajectory quite unclear, and the critics with their rapiers ready to slash, Morrissey knew all too well that we may have been banishing him to a life of talking out his frank and open observations with no one but himself. How "bleakly" aware was he of this at this particular point of his career?
Morrissey was still bouncing between collaborators, a steady partnership was sorely needed following the split from producer/co-writer Stephen Street who had been integral to shaping Viva Hate. Somehow Morrissey got hooked up with Mark E Nevin (of band Fairground Attraction) and through a letter writing corresponadance composed Kill Uncle. Maybe it was this removed form of writing which led to the many odd lurches of the album. Morrissey seems not only out of his comfort zone but rather adrift throughout much of the record and while it is perhaps a bit too lambasted its most pleasing moments are quite readily apparent.
It's no wonder this was the opener as it is the most in line with previous Morrissey singles and has a simple and direct melody to draw you in. The most atypical element of the track is the unusual character Morrissey plays in the song. The protagonist doesn't want any more "frank and open, deep conversations" which is strange since we all imagine those are the very things Morrissey would cherish if only to continuously pore over and analyse. The singer also makes stern demands for "a drink" which again clashes with our cosy idea of a teetotaler Moz. Maybe the man of old, the one who has so often given of his time to listen and obsess has, for the time being, reached his quota and is recoiling out of self preservation.
A red pullover is a cryptic clue in the story and come the songs end we see the singer is caught in an abyss of self loathing where his conversations seem to be with himself. While no stranger to self criticism he seems positively wracked in this one lamenting "Somebody stop me from thinking, From thinking all the time
So bleakly, so bleakly". It strikes me that the outro to this song could be a treatise on our voyeuristic nature concerning this mans work. While he craves the attention and puts out the material, we make jokes, we pass judgement on what is essentially a window into this mans Psyche. Im doing it right now and at a time when the audience was dwindling, his solo trajectory quite unclear, and the critics with their rapiers ready to slash, Morrissey knew all too well that we may have been banishing him to a life of talking out his frank and open observations with no one but himself. How "bleakly" aware was he of this at this particular point of his career?
The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores
You are the Quarry had to serve many masters. As an album it had to re-establish Morrissey as a viable commercial force, clamour back some critical standing that had cooled since his last few albums had bombed and in general had to showcase his many virtues. Seven years is a long time to be away but it acted as a cessation of hostilities, letting the Morrissey myth shape itself into something romantic. This wasn't the man who had lost his way and then simply faded. This was the Eleventh Hour comeback and damned if anything was going to upset this plan.
So on the album we have most sides of the artist. Social observer, check, lovelorn romantic, check, censor baiting iconoclast, check but in this song we have the humorist of old, the misanthrope whose disdain for the people of the world masks a even deeper appreciation of them as a collective muse. There's no denying most people probably bore the life out of Moz but where would he be without them to rail against, to deconstruct. The song seems to indicate that Morrissey is himself trapped by the very same ideals of these crashing bores.
Due to some legal wrangling, not worth getting into here, concerning his former band mate Mike Joyce, Morrissey has had angry things to say in regards to public servants but these slights come across as petulant and have become a bit tedious. You have authority issues. I get it. So does every sullen teen in the world. This constant lamenting of policemen and judges and so on is a wearying trend in his later work and while the criticism he faced in court was a bitter pill no doubt, his riposte via song has been made. Maybe its time to move on to newer areas.
This song doesn't fall prey to tedium by its sheer craft. From a boy who never grew up to straining at the edges of ones mind the song encompasses myriad themes while never straying from its comical, if entirely plausible claim that yes this world is full of dullards. The love-lessness is back on show with the lines "no one ever turns to me to say, take me in your arms and love me." The more doomy of romantics listening (which I am regrettably one, especially when just shy of my teenage years which I was when this was released) can probably sink into this line as we have a million times over with different Morrissey lyrics, but I found it comforting in a darkly humorous way that there he was still lamenting the same old concerns. The crashingly boring world continues to turn despite his bad fortune.
It is meticulously structured, the music simmering in the background never vying for attention from what is a wonderful central vocal performance. And that is definitely what this song is, an assured performance from an old hand, who knows his audience, knows his work and is giving us all a splendid encore. Some people might complain we've heard it all before, and yes we have but when it's this effortless and this much fun to whinge then I say keep it coming. When he sings the simple words "Would you do, would you do, what you should do..." it breaks my heart even as elsewhere the song gives me a wry smile. He wants a simple gesture, to validate his own existence amidst the banality. Would someone just hug the man right now? A song for a bad or cynical day, somewhere for the unfocused anger and mild stirrings of ennui to go.
So on the album we have most sides of the artist. Social observer, check, lovelorn romantic, check, censor baiting iconoclast, check but in this song we have the humorist of old, the misanthrope whose disdain for the people of the world masks a even deeper appreciation of them as a collective muse. There's no denying most people probably bore the life out of Moz but where would he be without them to rail against, to deconstruct. The song seems to indicate that Morrissey is himself trapped by the very same ideals of these crashing bores.
Due to some legal wrangling, not worth getting into here, concerning his former band mate Mike Joyce, Morrissey has had angry things to say in regards to public servants but these slights come across as petulant and have become a bit tedious. You have authority issues. I get it. So does every sullen teen in the world. This constant lamenting of policemen and judges and so on is a wearying trend in his later work and while the criticism he faced in court was a bitter pill no doubt, his riposte via song has been made. Maybe its time to move on to newer areas.
This song doesn't fall prey to tedium by its sheer craft. From a boy who never grew up to straining at the edges of ones mind the song encompasses myriad themes while never straying from its comical, if entirely plausible claim that yes this world is full of dullards. The love-lessness is back on show with the lines "no one ever turns to me to say, take me in your arms and love me." The more doomy of romantics listening (which I am regrettably one, especially when just shy of my teenage years which I was when this was released) can probably sink into this line as we have a million times over with different Morrissey lyrics, but I found it comforting in a darkly humorous way that there he was still lamenting the same old concerns. The crashingly boring world continues to turn despite his bad fortune.
It is meticulously structured, the music simmering in the background never vying for attention from what is a wonderful central vocal performance. And that is definitely what this song is, an assured performance from an old hand, who knows his audience, knows his work and is giving us all a splendid encore. Some people might complain we've heard it all before, and yes we have but when it's this effortless and this much fun to whinge then I say keep it coming. When he sings the simple words "Would you do, would you do, what you should do..." it breaks my heart even as elsewhere the song gives me a wry smile. He wants a simple gesture, to validate his own existence amidst the banality. Would someone just hug the man right now? A song for a bad or cynical day, somewhere for the unfocused anger and mild stirrings of ennui to go.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Hairdresser on Fire
As a single "Suedehead" came out swinging, eager to prove its right to life but nestled safely on the b-side was this gorgeous ditty which was an ode to hair. Long a staple of the Moz persona its distinctive style not only made for a striking profile, it cemented his icon hood. Gladioli bloomed and withered, hearing aids were thrust back in the cupboard but his hair (with some notable exceptions) remained untouched by fashions hyperactive need to change. Morrissey not only escaped the demise of his band, he survived without tearing out a single follicle.
This song discusses how hard it is to get a hair appointment while also tackling the daily stresses hairdressers must endure. Yet out of this laughable conceit Morrissey hews a song of lovely insight. It is an odd mixture of desperately pedestrian concerns and soulful existential ones. It deals with self esteem issues and self image problems, that ones very soul and mood could be changed by a good or bad haircut. And in some ways it's very true. Who hasn't slinked off home following a disappointing hair cut, your social evening derailed by a totally self absorbed notion that "everyone will be looking"?
True to form, Morrissey takes this idea and runs with it to its most absurd degree. He wants to be "Supernaturally changed" by what artistry can be conjured in the hairdressers chair. He also talks about an incident in which the hairdresser will be sued by some client following a careless piece of work. Is this Morrissey discussing how litigious and financially driven we have become, that even when faced with such a homespun industry as your local barbers, men can become vicious and attack through the wallet? The song also seems to be lionizing a free London but that the old fashioned hairdresser seems to be out of step with. Considering its lightweight attitude the song seems to discuss many different issues, with a really beautiful backing, which segues from an ornate classical sweep at the beginning into a buoyant piano line which was certainly different to what people might have expected from a Morrissy song at the time (even with the more keyboard fixated "Strangeways Here We Come" album directly preceding this).
Another excellent b side with a very winning double entendre in the title, it may be just referring to a hairdresser having a great day, being on a roll, or if taken literally it reads as the premise of a terrific black comedy. Coming back to this song one is relieved to realise that Morrissey actually remembered his roots, both his love of pop and the ones in his actual hair.
This song discusses how hard it is to get a hair appointment while also tackling the daily stresses hairdressers must endure. Yet out of this laughable conceit Morrissey hews a song of lovely insight. It is an odd mixture of desperately pedestrian concerns and soulful existential ones. It deals with self esteem issues and self image problems, that ones very soul and mood could be changed by a good or bad haircut. And in some ways it's very true. Who hasn't slinked off home following a disappointing hair cut, your social evening derailed by a totally self absorbed notion that "everyone will be looking"?
True to form, Morrissey takes this idea and runs with it to its most absurd degree. He wants to be "Supernaturally changed" by what artistry can be conjured in the hairdressers chair. He also talks about an incident in which the hairdresser will be sued by some client following a careless piece of work. Is this Morrissey discussing how litigious and financially driven we have become, that even when faced with such a homespun industry as your local barbers, men can become vicious and attack through the wallet? The song also seems to be lionizing a free London but that the old fashioned hairdresser seems to be out of step with. Considering its lightweight attitude the song seems to discuss many different issues, with a really beautiful backing, which segues from an ornate classical sweep at the beginning into a buoyant piano line which was certainly different to what people might have expected from a Morrissy song at the time (even with the more keyboard fixated "Strangeways Here We Come" album directly preceding this).
Another excellent b side with a very winning double entendre in the title, it may be just referring to a hairdresser having a great day, being on a roll, or if taken literally it reads as the premise of a terrific black comedy. Coming back to this song one is relieved to realise that Morrissey actually remembered his roots, both his love of pop and the ones in his actual hair.
Dagenham Dave
Since the early days Morrissey could be classified as a rather florid writer. He would tackle universal themes but couch them in in very ordinary settings, the mundane provided fertile ground for his acerbic critiques and woeful misadventures. Despite the every day setting it wouldn't stop him from deploying colourful turns of phrase or using unusual words and colloquialisms, (How many songs feature the word "tremulous" or celebrate an obscure slang employed by the Homosexual populace in the 60s called "polari"? These are from the Smiths song "Rushhome Ruffians" and solo song "Piccadilly Palare" respectively). The only problem is that sometimes this approach yields passable songs out of already dull starting points and without the more interesting writing devices the songs could very easily fail to catch fire.
"Dagenham Dave" is such a wasted opportunity. On a technical side there is nothing wrong with the song. It thunders along on a very typical musical backing, serviceable but nothing remarkable. Moz sings of a "Jack the lad" type man but fails to inject any real life into him with the line "Everybody loves him, I see why" particularly missing the mark. Care to fill us in a little more there Moz? There is a certain ambiguity to the song as the singer seems to be both in and awe and resentful to Dave. But the song has several niggles. The rhymes seem easy, the melody perfunctory, it all just feels a little old hat and especially after the more effective character studies essayed in "Vauxhall and I". I'm just not sure what makes this man worthy of a song or of our time.
Maybe it's the two word chorus that seems lazy, lacking any thematic or stylistic twist and it seems to pummel the listener into submission rather than charming them to sing along.
Now the really perverse thing is that I actually enjoy the song, despite how down on it I appear. It's just that while enjoyable, it's a bit ordinary. It's a song I have to justify any affection for, which I do have, but one might wonder why I'd even bother putting so much energy into defending it. There's more swagger to the delivery, a slightly saucy vocal from Moz pitched somewhere between respectful and mocking, and it exudes more confidence than anything describing the titular Dave. It continues the trend of Morrissey attempting to reconcile his outsider tendencies with some sort of fanciful notion of hyper stylized "normality". He seems to believe that he should be connecting to the everyday "lads" (maybe " the ordinary boys" even) that he once covertly ridiculed often in very subtle ways. The truth is though, there was never a time when Morrissey (with the underrated "Southpaw Grammar" and unfairly maligned "Maladjusted" albums) was so out of touch with the land of his birth. His attempts to escape the prevailing Brit pop culture led to what this writer believes was a severe lack of confidence and a mild case of identity crisis.
Easily the best moment of the song are the lyrics "He'd love to touch, but he's afraid that he might self-combust, I could say more...But you get the general idea..." The phrasing is perfect, another example of Morrissey imparting his cheeky asides through the usage of fairly commonplace language, but in this case, the withholding of information adds much to the affair. There's a gossipy feel, like he wants us to push for more detail, and this is a very every day type of social discussion. People love to hear bad things about others, especially regarding a "Lothario" which is what Dave, at the very least, appears to be. What will Karen, or Sharon say? I shudder to think. But putting in a not so veiled reference to premature ejaculation under the umbrella of the 3 minute pop song. Only Morrissey could get away with that.
"Dagenham Dave" is such a wasted opportunity. On a technical side there is nothing wrong with the song. It thunders along on a very typical musical backing, serviceable but nothing remarkable. Moz sings of a "Jack the lad" type man but fails to inject any real life into him with the line "Everybody loves him, I see why" particularly missing the mark. Care to fill us in a little more there Moz? There is a certain ambiguity to the song as the singer seems to be both in and awe and resentful to Dave. But the song has several niggles. The rhymes seem easy, the melody perfunctory, it all just feels a little old hat and especially after the more effective character studies essayed in "Vauxhall and I". I'm just not sure what makes this man worthy of a song or of our time.
Maybe it's the two word chorus that seems lazy, lacking any thematic or stylistic twist and it seems to pummel the listener into submission rather than charming them to sing along.
Now the really perverse thing is that I actually enjoy the song, despite how down on it I appear. It's just that while enjoyable, it's a bit ordinary. It's a song I have to justify any affection for, which I do have, but one might wonder why I'd even bother putting so much energy into defending it. There's more swagger to the delivery, a slightly saucy vocal from Moz pitched somewhere between respectful and mocking, and it exudes more confidence than anything describing the titular Dave. It continues the trend of Morrissey attempting to reconcile his outsider tendencies with some sort of fanciful notion of hyper stylized "normality". He seems to believe that he should be connecting to the everyday "lads" (maybe " the ordinary boys" even) that he once covertly ridiculed often in very subtle ways. The truth is though, there was never a time when Morrissey (with the underrated "Southpaw Grammar" and unfairly maligned "Maladjusted" albums) was so out of touch with the land of his birth. His attempts to escape the prevailing Brit pop culture led to what this writer believes was a severe lack of confidence and a mild case of identity crisis.
Easily the best moment of the song are the lyrics "He'd love to touch, but he's afraid that he might self-combust, I could say more...But you get the general idea..." The phrasing is perfect, another example of Morrissey imparting his cheeky asides through the usage of fairly commonplace language, but in this case, the withholding of information adds much to the affair. There's a gossipy feel, like he wants us to push for more detail, and this is a very every day type of social discussion. People love to hear bad things about others, especially regarding a "Lothario" which is what Dave, at the very least, appears to be. What will Karen, or Sharon say? I shudder to think. But putting in a not so veiled reference to premature ejaculation under the umbrella of the 3 minute pop song. Only Morrissey could get away with that.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Alsatian Cousin
Imagine whats fans must have thought when this song first roared into life. As the opener on Morrisseys first solo record this was a gauntlet being thrown down. Of course "Suedehead" had already assuaged the loyal, showing that there was life beyond band-dom but still few could have expected this. A mass of swirling riffs and synthesisers tinged with ever so slight distortion building up in intensity until at last the vocal kicks in, posing the pointed question of the refrain "Were you and he lovers? And would you say so if you were?" The paranoia, the obsession is evident from the get go and the song continues to detail an imagined(?) infidelity with an undercurrent of sexual activity casual fans would never attribute to Moz. Of course it's always been there in his work, it just tends to be overlooked by the more populist view of him as wilting wallflower, making Wildean quips while others do the "Wild(e) thing".
What strikes me about this song is that the context seems so adult, the narrative rooted in an office for example rather than the teenage milieu Morrissey would be better known for. Was this a conscious attempt to move on stylistically, a farewell to more youthful concerns to focus on the murky waters of grown up relationships and the infidelities which lie within? I continue to question the alleged transgression when the song itself seems to go out of its way to prove there is an affair going on. Notes written from lust, a tent flap carelessly left wide open seem to confirm that this is the case. But I often wonder when paranoia grips the mind do we rearrange the truth to serve our suspicions? I like to think we're getting a very one-sided view of this story and that the heart of the matter is neither one way or the other. It makes the song much more interesting for me to believe that both parties may have something to hide.
Like most of his work we can only guess to the meaning but the song has a fire to it and rings with such menace that while the details are vague the intention is obvious. The main character already knows the answer to his probing inquiry but cant stand having to hear it. It's a self destructive trait which is all too common, jealousy writ large, and regardless of the answer, the relationship featured here is over either way.
What strikes me about this song is that the context seems so adult, the narrative rooted in an office for example rather than the teenage milieu Morrissey would be better known for. Was this a conscious attempt to move on stylistically, a farewell to more youthful concerns to focus on the murky waters of grown up relationships and the infidelities which lie within? I continue to question the alleged transgression when the song itself seems to go out of its way to prove there is an affair going on. Notes written from lust, a tent flap carelessly left wide open seem to confirm that this is the case. But I often wonder when paranoia grips the mind do we rearrange the truth to serve our suspicions? I like to think we're getting a very one-sided view of this story and that the heart of the matter is neither one way or the other. It makes the song much more interesting for me to believe that both parties may have something to hide.
Like most of his work we can only guess to the meaning but the song has a fire to it and rings with such menace that while the details are vague the intention is obvious. The main character already knows the answer to his probing inquiry but cant stand having to hear it. It's a self destructive trait which is all too common, jealousy writ large, and regardless of the answer, the relationship featured here is over either way.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
At Last I Am Born
Taken from what is widely considered Morrisseys "love" album, the closing track off Ringleader of the Tormentors" is a stately address of where it's creator was at circa 2006. His comeback gracefully handled this album served notice that You are the Quarry was no mere fluke and the creative rebirth was progressing into, well at least a creative prepubescence. While some decry it as a significantly weaker album to Quarry (my own thoughts will become clear as I review its songs) as the finishing touch "At Last I Am Born" is a mighty send off.
Swooping in on an operatic clamour the song seems, to these ears, to be Morrissey reflecting on his own persona and poking fun at his own self parodic nature. It also has a little fun on our behalf as fans. We're obviously drawn to his work and continue to listen since we have so much invested in his themes. The romantic obsessive, the doomed loner, these aspects of his personality are his most examined but this song seems to at first dissect and finally discard them.
A supremely arrogant opening line "At last I am Born, Historians note" shows us that the narcissism of this Irish Blooded, English hearted man is still firmly in place. He then proceeds to undercut every lazy assumption we've retained about him. He once did chase affection withdrawn (Well documented there Mozzer) but now he just sits back and yawns apparently. Time used to accentuate despair but now he doesn't actually care. Phew. That's a relief. It may be that his joy is fleeting (isn't it always?) or it might just be a smokescreen but taken as read this shows the most contented view of the man we've ever had. Despite the fact we would have been robbed of a very good album in Years of Refusal, I always think this would have been a fine send off for Morrisseys career. OK, a bit too tidy in a Hollywood movie sort of way, the happy ending might have been a tad too cloying for some but in following the ups and downs of this mans life, I certainly wouldn't have begrudged him this as an optimistic conclusion to his artistic travels. He mentions getting over his guilt regarding matters of the flesh and I would wish him well.
However we all know it can't be that simple, that direct. Is the bluster of the song real or contrived? Has he found the one true free life? It would have been a wonderful curtain close on the observation he made way back in the Smiths first ever single "Hand in Glove" where he says "The good life is out there somewhere, so stay on my arm you little charmer." Morrissey full circle? I tend to think of him as cylindrical, plenty of space in the back.
The mention of Claude Brasseur seems like further arty name dropping (see also: "You Have Killed Me") but Morrisseys interests have always tickled and intrigued us and how many sought out Mr. Brassuer after hearing the song I wonder? A strident self analysis set to a blistering call to arms, even if more angst and loveless-ness was to come with the afterbirth.
Swooping in on an operatic clamour the song seems, to these ears, to be Morrissey reflecting on his own persona and poking fun at his own self parodic nature. It also has a little fun on our behalf as fans. We're obviously drawn to his work and continue to listen since we have so much invested in his themes. The romantic obsessive, the doomed loner, these aspects of his personality are his most examined but this song seems to at first dissect and finally discard them.
A supremely arrogant opening line "At last I am Born, Historians note" shows us that the narcissism of this Irish Blooded, English hearted man is still firmly in place. He then proceeds to undercut every lazy assumption we've retained about him. He once did chase affection withdrawn (Well documented there Mozzer) but now he just sits back and yawns apparently. Time used to accentuate despair but now he doesn't actually care. Phew. That's a relief. It may be that his joy is fleeting (isn't it always?) or it might just be a smokescreen but taken as read this shows the most contented view of the man we've ever had. Despite the fact we would have been robbed of a very good album in Years of Refusal, I always think this would have been a fine send off for Morrisseys career. OK, a bit too tidy in a Hollywood movie sort of way, the happy ending might have been a tad too cloying for some but in following the ups and downs of this mans life, I certainly wouldn't have begrudged him this as an optimistic conclusion to his artistic travels. He mentions getting over his guilt regarding matters of the flesh and I would wish him well.
However we all know it can't be that simple, that direct. Is the bluster of the song real or contrived? Has he found the one true free life? It would have been a wonderful curtain close on the observation he made way back in the Smiths first ever single "Hand in Glove" where he says "The good life is out there somewhere, so stay on my arm you little charmer." Morrissey full circle? I tend to think of him as cylindrical, plenty of space in the back.
The mention of Claude Brasseur seems like further arty name dropping (see also: "You Have Killed Me") but Morrisseys interests have always tickled and intrigued us and how many sought out Mr. Brassuer after hearing the song I wonder? A strident self analysis set to a blistering call to arms, even if more angst and loveless-ness was to come with the afterbirth.
A Swallow On My Neck
One of my favourite Morrissey B-Sides, this song is a pop delight that would have made a fine addition to any of his albums and is unfairly exiled as a gem only the diehards will ever really appreciate.
It's certainly ambiguous, expressly omitting details with the line "and more I will not say" lending much to the reading of the song as a homoerotic ode to the mysterious Jake. Ah Jake. He was the PA/bodyguard to Moz during the Vauxhall and I era and much is assumed concerning the relationship there. Now it is nigh on impossible to discuss this work without referring to the ongoing cat and mouse games Morrissey has played regarding his sexuality. Long a question mark, always an invitation for the speculative fan, Morrisseys orientation interests me less than you might think.
I enjoy the uncertain aspect of it. It acts as a key part of the mans appeal. It serves to make his ruminations on love, romance or sex as universal in the truest sense. Not that having it exposed should prohibit someone relating to a song. My belief is that the best love songs, even those that are gender specific should have broad appeal if they express truth about the emotion they are discussing. Put simply I can relate to a PJ Harvey song just as much as Leonard Cohen song as long as the story is conveyed with real insight. I do not wish to scrutinise Morrissey in this way, except in a casual sense to offer my views on a song or lyric. There's enough talk on the Internet about this topic and I don't wish to add to the Moz slash fic genre, thank you very much.
"A Swallow on My Neck" speaks of an attraction,a relationship but we are left to piece out the specifics. There's an intimacy therein that is beguiling even if the object of the singers affection remains ever out of reach. There is ample evidence that the person sought after in the song views the protagonist as "foolish". Hell it's baldly stated but that only muddies the water since there is obviously a closeness in the tale. The decision seems to have been already made, as the singer so desperately informs us "I don't why I held out so long for me and you". Is the battle lost or is this just another chess move in the narrative? Peoples relationships are in a constant state of flux and sometimes love stories, even the unrequited ones never reach such a resolution.
The tattoo imagery is in itself an oblique device. Is it a prison tattoo, a gang sign,a metaphor? Any of these could be accurate and the fact that Jake has a swallow tat, glimpsed on the sleeve to Vauxhall seems to add fuel to that eternal flame but again are we underestimating our host here? This song also features a line which I think can be applied as a mantra for the artist, "Older and wiser never applies to me". This is a man who since his early 20s all the way to his 50th and beyond has largely been singing about the same topics and seems vaguely in the same place he always has been. Oh how far you've come but how little certain things have progressed.
The backing is a lovely slice of pop that has a real surge to it. Soaked in a haunting backing vocal it is also peppered with great detail, worlds are conjured up in the social situations described and there is a sense that there is a group of people the singer may lose should the (potentially) sordid details ever come to light. A thing of beauty buried in the vault of flip-sides this song deserves more appreciation across his body of work.
It's certainly ambiguous, expressly omitting details with the line "and more I will not say" lending much to the reading of the song as a homoerotic ode to the mysterious Jake. Ah Jake. He was the PA/bodyguard to Moz during the Vauxhall and I era and much is assumed concerning the relationship there. Now it is nigh on impossible to discuss this work without referring to the ongoing cat and mouse games Morrissey has played regarding his sexuality. Long a question mark, always an invitation for the speculative fan, Morrisseys orientation interests me less than you might think.
I enjoy the uncertain aspect of it. It acts as a key part of the mans appeal. It serves to make his ruminations on love, romance or sex as universal in the truest sense. Not that having it exposed should prohibit someone relating to a song. My belief is that the best love songs, even those that are gender specific should have broad appeal if they express truth about the emotion they are discussing. Put simply I can relate to a PJ Harvey song just as much as Leonard Cohen song as long as the story is conveyed with real insight. I do not wish to scrutinise Morrissey in this way, except in a casual sense to offer my views on a song or lyric. There's enough talk on the Internet about this topic and I don't wish to add to the Moz slash fic genre, thank you very much.
"A Swallow on My Neck" speaks of an attraction,a relationship but we are left to piece out the specifics. There's an intimacy therein that is beguiling even if the object of the singers affection remains ever out of reach. There is ample evidence that the person sought after in the song views the protagonist as "foolish". Hell it's baldly stated but that only muddies the water since there is obviously a closeness in the tale. The decision seems to have been already made, as the singer so desperately informs us "I don't why I held out so long for me and you". Is the battle lost or is this just another chess move in the narrative? Peoples relationships are in a constant state of flux and sometimes love stories, even the unrequited ones never reach such a resolution.
The tattoo imagery is in itself an oblique device. Is it a prison tattoo, a gang sign,a metaphor? Any of these could be accurate and the fact that Jake has a swallow tat, glimpsed on the sleeve to Vauxhall seems to add fuel to that eternal flame but again are we underestimating our host here? This song also features a line which I think can be applied as a mantra for the artist, "Older and wiser never applies to me". This is a man who since his early 20s all the way to his 50th and beyond has largely been singing about the same topics and seems vaguely in the same place he always has been. Oh how far you've come but how little certain things have progressed.
The backing is a lovely slice of pop that has a real surge to it. Soaked in a haunting backing vocal it is also peppered with great detail, worlds are conjured up in the social situations described and there is a sense that there is a group of people the singer may lose should the (potentially) sordid details ever come to light. A thing of beauty buried in the vault of flip-sides this song deserves more appreciation across his body of work.
Sister I'm A Poet
A subtly epochal song in the Morrissey canon Sister I'm a Poet remains a curious cornerstone of his solo work. The song retains the old character of Morrissey as he emerged from the Smiths but with slight lashings of the crime obsessed and altogether tougher persona he would hone as his name alone would dominate the marquee.
The B-side of the monumental "Everyday is Like Sunday", "Sister..." rings with sublime confidence as Morrissey declares his intellectualism on a grand scale. When in earlier songs it was the province of the shut-away this seems to revel in the idea of the poet as social observer rather than bedroom diarist. The song doesn't take the usual stance of inward analysis but instead discusses class, and looks at the idea of nature versus nurture, all to a near rockabilly stomp.
His love of different forms of illegality had already crept in before but this was the beginning of his more thorough look at "the romance of crime" a theme he very quickly exhausted on subsequent outings with varying degrees of success. There's a verve to the song that carries it through and it does have his trademark wit, even if its a bit more subdued.
A great B-side and a very good early Morrissey song (let not its ubiquity on so many Morrissey compilations dull its many charms) but one that is for me between two stools. While it continues to plough the style of past treasures it does point to some of the thematic dead ends which would blight some of his later work.
Video Note: The live version from the first Morrissey solo gig is essential viewing for any fan. Filmed on 22 December 1988, at Wolverhampton Civic Hall, it features Andy Rourke, Mike Joyce and Craig Gannon in tow as Morrissey is continuously accosted by fans eager to embrace their idol. The singers nonchalant reaction and dedication to keeping the performance going is a master class in stage behaviour and is a testament to the command he has over his craft. The spectre of his former band still loomed large and the blanket show of love from the crowd came not just from the mourning of the Smiths but out of embracing the future, the potential of what their icon would become next. He was still a poet and seemingly had any number of like minded siblings to impart such wisdom to, even if it was clear that after this, nothing would ever be the same again.
The B-side of the monumental "Everyday is Like Sunday", "Sister..." rings with sublime confidence as Morrissey declares his intellectualism on a grand scale. When in earlier songs it was the province of the shut-away this seems to revel in the idea of the poet as social observer rather than bedroom diarist. The song doesn't take the usual stance of inward analysis but instead discusses class, and looks at the idea of nature versus nurture, all to a near rockabilly stomp.
His love of different forms of illegality had already crept in before but this was the beginning of his more thorough look at "the romance of crime" a theme he very quickly exhausted on subsequent outings with varying degrees of success. There's a verve to the song that carries it through and it does have his trademark wit, even if its a bit more subdued.
A great B-side and a very good early Morrissey song (let not its ubiquity on so many Morrissey compilations dull its many charms) but one that is for me between two stools. While it continues to plough the style of past treasures it does point to some of the thematic dead ends which would blight some of his later work.
Video Note: The live version from the first Morrissey solo gig is essential viewing for any fan. Filmed on 22 December 1988, at Wolverhampton Civic Hall, it features Andy Rourke, Mike Joyce and Craig Gannon in tow as Morrissey is continuously accosted by fans eager to embrace their idol. The singers nonchalant reaction and dedication to keeping the performance going is a master class in stage behaviour and is a testament to the command he has over his craft. The spectre of his former band still loomed large and the blanket show of love from the crowd came not just from the mourning of the Smiths but out of embracing the future, the potential of what their icon would become next. He was still a poet and seemingly had any number of like minded siblings to impart such wisdom to, even if it was clear that after this, nothing would ever be the same again.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Little Man, What Now?
Artistic permanence is very important to Morrissey. Fame is fickle, right now we have too few pans to cater for all the flashes but back in a pre-Internet, disconnected world the idea of fading from view was a real possibility. In every aspect of his art Morrissey celebrates the enduring possibilities of Stardom and of cultural relevance.
In the Smiths, he found an outlet for this with the sleeves he designed. Often Monochrome snapshots, they were a treat for the initiated, a gateway to nostalgic backstreets where Pat Phoenix frolicked with a youthful Truman Capote, where Warholian art flirted with Terence Stamps collector it was Morrissey letting us peer inside to see his love of detail, his romance for the past and his desire to make every artifact of his band count. You could pore over the picture and let your mind wander, a visual delight snuck in with the aural.
He touched upon the theme of remaining relevant in The Smiths "Rubber Ring" but in that song he was questioning his own place in an ageing fans affections. Here Moz himself is the fan, dwelling on the fate of a TV star who has fallen from view and is reduced to appearing on a Nostalgia Television show earning only indifference. The singer is obsessed with details like the knowing of correct years, and remembering the night the particular TV show was on. It's a trait I imagine Morrissey himself has for his myriad passions which are just like mine. I enjoy the "list" aspect of the song. It has a precise yet at the same time utterly thrown together quality, like reminiscing over a glass of wine. It's the feeling evoked rather than the dry data. The story as is, is a common one, but no less disquieting for that. It may be told in broad strokes but its desired effect is achieved. To be forgotten, to leave no impression from when you were once so high must be a very sobering experience.
The musical backing is muted, but insistent, a throbbing messy percussion, which seems to mirror the place all this knowledge is coming from, the deep recesses of a fans subconscious, the minutiae slipping out slowly and in a cluttered state. At a brisk 1:49 minutes it would seem to hint at this small human tragedy more than analyse it. But then what more is there to say?
For Moz himself, the man has soldiered on long enough that this will never be his own fate. When all the controversies have been faded, the quotes a footnote, the Quiff perhaps withered, his work will still linger on, long into the lottery of time.
In the Smiths, he found an outlet for this with the sleeves he designed. Often Monochrome snapshots, they were a treat for the initiated, a gateway to nostalgic backstreets where Pat Phoenix frolicked with a youthful Truman Capote, where Warholian art flirted with Terence Stamps collector it was Morrissey letting us peer inside to see his love of detail, his romance for the past and his desire to make every artifact of his band count. You could pore over the picture and let your mind wander, a visual delight snuck in with the aural.
He touched upon the theme of remaining relevant in The Smiths "Rubber Ring" but in that song he was questioning his own place in an ageing fans affections. Here Moz himself is the fan, dwelling on the fate of a TV star who has fallen from view and is reduced to appearing on a Nostalgia Television show earning only indifference. The singer is obsessed with details like the knowing of correct years, and remembering the night the particular TV show was on. It's a trait I imagine Morrissey himself has for his myriad passions which are just like mine. I enjoy the "list" aspect of the song. It has a precise yet at the same time utterly thrown together quality, like reminiscing over a glass of wine. It's the feeling evoked rather than the dry data. The story as is, is a common one, but no less disquieting for that. It may be told in broad strokes but its desired effect is achieved. To be forgotten, to leave no impression from when you were once so high must be a very sobering experience.
The musical backing is muted, but insistent, a throbbing messy percussion, which seems to mirror the place all this knowledge is coming from, the deep recesses of a fans subconscious, the minutiae slipping out slowly and in a cluttered state. At a brisk 1:49 minutes it would seem to hint at this small human tragedy more than analyse it. But then what more is there to say?
For Moz himself, the man has soldiered on long enough that this will never be his own fate. When all the controversies have been faded, the quotes a footnote, the Quiff perhaps withered, his work will still linger on, long into the lottery of time.
Certain People I Know
For a man so often characterised as a loner, Morrissey does make an effort of presenting himself and his backing band, as a gang. It's there in the music videos, for "Tomorrow", "My Love Life", "I Have Forgiven Jesus" and "We Hate it when our Friends Become Successful" to name a few and while we're never in any doubt who the ringleader is, it does give a nice unity to Morrissey as an artist these days.
For the diehards, we've grown pretty attached to ever loyal Boz, we mourn the loss of Alain Whyte as a touring memebr of the band and I think bonds like this are important from a fans perspective. I'm not sure how many real friends Morrissey has in life and in regards to his work its unimportant. But I think we all know that Morrissey has a few enemies and if his pen can be dipped in pure magic sometimes, its more often than not dipped in comical venom.
This song is almost satire, awash with pithy turns of phrase and puns, it's eliptical enough that we can assign the digs (and the mild praise) to anyone, or any type of person. Morrissey could be addressing actual people or certain scenes he wishes to avoid but he does it with a wry, removed air.
The tune itself which has Mick Ronson playing on it (channeling some "...White Swan" era T-rex) is sprightly and dare I say the jauntiest piece of music connected to Morrissey since "Cemetry Gates". Like that past Smiths classic I believe this is Morrissey kicking back and having fun, self assured and gently mocking. This is evident in the video which has the band, in all honesty, looking the worse for wear messing around on a beach. The sound of "Your Arsenal" is rocky and chaotic so this song acts as a palette cleanser at the mid way mark, a romp through Morrisseys less explored "social side". Certain people I know may scoff at the idea that he has one but this is the man who told us to hold onto our friends, well unless their clothes are imitation George the 23rd that is.
For the diehards, we've grown pretty attached to ever loyal Boz, we mourn the loss of Alain Whyte as a touring memebr of the band and I think bonds like this are important from a fans perspective. I'm not sure how many real friends Morrissey has in life and in regards to his work its unimportant. But I think we all know that Morrissey has a few enemies and if his pen can be dipped in pure magic sometimes, its more often than not dipped in comical venom.
This song is almost satire, awash with pithy turns of phrase and puns, it's eliptical enough that we can assign the digs (and the mild praise) to anyone, or any type of person. Morrissey could be addressing actual people or certain scenes he wishes to avoid but he does it with a wry, removed air.
The tune itself which has Mick Ronson playing on it (channeling some "...White Swan" era T-rex) is sprightly and dare I say the jauntiest piece of music connected to Morrissey since "Cemetry Gates". Like that past Smiths classic I believe this is Morrissey kicking back and having fun, self assured and gently mocking. This is evident in the video which has the band, in all honesty, looking the worse for wear messing around on a beach. The sound of "Your Arsenal" is rocky and chaotic so this song acts as a palette cleanser at the mid way mark, a romp through Morrisseys less explored "social side". Certain people I know may scoff at the idea that he has one but this is the man who told us to hold onto our friends, well unless their clothes are imitation George the 23rd that is.
Come Back To Camden
A strange place to start I'll admit but such is the scope and audacity of the song I want it to be a clarion call of sorts. Here we are. Every last inch of us is his, to serenade us at his pleasure.
This song is everything that is great about latter day Morrissey. It feeds into what I have dubbed "the soap of Moz" which is a theme that I will continue to return to throughout this project. We have carried his persona with us so long as fans that we invest even the simplest turns of phrase with an epic event in the mans life. And ever the skillful performer Moz knows how to dramatise, the "me and my heart, we knew, we just knew.." takes on such huge proportions and is so heartbreaking even if the subject is, as usual obscured.
Not that the song is lazy with imagery, whether its drinking tea with the taste of the Thames, under a slate grey Victorian sky the whole thing is loaded with pitch perfect detail. It's the longing look of the exile, that although he mentions the colour grey the whole scene is still wonderfully rose tinted and aching with sadness. At this stage in his career Morrissey had been all but exiled, label-less to foreign shores which never made much sense for the quintessential English man.
It soars with such heart and grandeur, it can not be denied and any who are not swept up by the time it reaches its crescendo should just leave the song behind and busy themselves with never ending conversations with taxi drivers.
His voice has never sounded better, authoritative, emotive and tinged with a real regret here. His desire to return home is palpable and we can see with the fetishised detail present in the piece, this is a man who knows where he came from inside out. He doesn't celebrate a faux version of the land, his is the world of tire yards and lonely chairs on the pavement. When in the past and well, in the present too, Morrissey might have tackled this in a very tongue in cheek way, this has no subterfuge, only truth. He promises "he'll be good" and while he may falter in this, we know, we just know that at that moment he means it. Beautiful.
This song is everything that is great about latter day Morrissey. It feeds into what I have dubbed "the soap of Moz" which is a theme that I will continue to return to throughout this project. We have carried his persona with us so long as fans that we invest even the simplest turns of phrase with an epic event in the mans life. And ever the skillful performer Moz knows how to dramatise, the "me and my heart, we knew, we just knew.." takes on such huge proportions and is so heartbreaking even if the subject is, as usual obscured.
Not that the song is lazy with imagery, whether its drinking tea with the taste of the Thames, under a slate grey Victorian sky the whole thing is loaded with pitch perfect detail. It's the longing look of the exile, that although he mentions the colour grey the whole scene is still wonderfully rose tinted and aching with sadness. At this stage in his career Morrissey had been all but exiled, label-less to foreign shores which never made much sense for the quintessential English man.
It soars with such heart and grandeur, it can not be denied and any who are not swept up by the time it reaches its crescendo should just leave the song behind and busy themselves with never ending conversations with taxi drivers.
His voice has never sounded better, authoritative, emotive and tinged with a real regret here. His desire to return home is palpable and we can see with the fetishised detail present in the piece, this is a man who knows where he came from inside out. He doesn't celebrate a faux version of the land, his is the world of tire yards and lonely chairs on the pavement. When in the past and well, in the present too, Morrissey might have tackled this in a very tongue in cheek way, this has no subterfuge, only truth. He promises "he'll be good" and while he may falter in this, we know, we just know that at that moment he means it. Beautiful.
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