Morrissey I
From February 2008
There are some people so famous, so much the focus of attention and public conversation, that they cease to be viewed by many as human beings. So wrote Alastair Campbell, ex-Director of Communication and Strategy to ex-saviour of the modern world, Tony Blair, in The Times last Friday. He was referring to troubled chanteuse Britney Spears but the bit about ceasing to be viewed by many as human beings made me think of Morrissey.
Like Alastair Campbell I too "genuinely like pop music" although unlike him I don't have Britney Spears on my 25 most listened to tunes on my iPod. In fact I don't have an iPod. And genuinely liking pop music has, for me at any rate, not been a barrier to liking the music of Stephen Patrick Morrissey.
Morrissey was playing Edinburgh's Playhouse Theatre on Saturday. Regular readers will be unsurprised to learn that I did not attend but having seen him on 6 previous occasions I have (as Martin Amis would say) done my bird and feel that I am not unqualified to pass judgement.
So when did my love affair with Morrissey break down? With me being an accountant and him being the writer of Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now we were made for each other; the oft levied accusation that the music of The Smiths was depressing never washed with me. On the contrary I found their lyrics strangely uplifting and Morrissey's solo material has helped through some difficult times. Not that I've ever talked to the man. The nearest I got was in 1995 when I gave him a half hearted hug but any conversation was made difficult by (a) him singing at the time and (b) me being politely but firmly being huckled off the stage of the Usher Hall by security.
As the court case against Mike Joyce showed, Morrissey has extraordinary self-belief. But there is a thin line between self-belief & being a complete twat and in recent years Morrissey seems to have crossed that line.
His insistence that his band, stagecrew & every member of his entourage are all vegetarians smacks of a need to be in control for the sake of being in control and recent comments made about levels of immigration in the UK were at best ill-judged. He was recently forced to cancel 3 of his 6 dates at London's Roundhouse because of problems with his throat. Fair enough, I'm not criticising him for that, it would be like me turning up for a job without my calculator but to then release a press statement stating that "The Artiste and Promoters tried strenuously to reschedule the three shows but it proved impossible" is just an insult. Proved impossible? Is he busy for the rest of the year? Busy tanning his pampered arse on the beach at Rimini or wherever it is he stays these days.
I could probably put up with all of this but for the last 10 years or so his lyrics haven't stood up to any examination whatsoever. Take this from his latest single, That's How People Grow Up: "Let me live, Before I die, No not me, Not I." It sounds like it was written in about 10 seconds while some vegan flunkey put up his deckchair for the morning: Morrissey by numbers.
After all these years, what can I say? Disappointed.