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?