It's wrong, of course. But in an evening of contradictions it's wrong in a hilarious 'did I really pack my brain this morning?' way. During the emotive encore of The Smiths' 'Shoplifters Of The World Unite' which sends the whole crowd into paroxyms of pleasure, a peroxide blonde dancing on her boyfriend's shoulders yanks up her top and gets her fake tits out. And what's Morrissey's reaction to such a gruesomely inappropriate display of adoration? He glances quizzically at Faketits, like his nephew is presenting him with his first baking attempts and Moz's not sure which one he's supposed to have. Both? How VERY kind. Not now though, thanks. And he gingerly gives the universal hand symbol for 'OK' before admonishing the crowd as a whole to "Hand it over/Hand it over".

          LA, then. The last of five sold-out shows at the beautiful art deco Wiltern Theatre. Faketits aside, this is a young audience of LA's finest: the under-25's who knew there was a light that would never go out, hispanic gay couples, lesbians and the inevitable Anglophiles. In a city where being 'alternative' means a goatee beard and leather kecks, these are the true outsiders.

          'You Are The Quarry' makes up the bulk of the set, which, like Moz himself, is lean yet beafy. It illustrates the range of the new album admirably. There's the camp frippery of 'First Of The Gang To Die' ("what a silly boy"), an appeal to come out ('All The Lazy Dykes'), an attack on fake empathisers ('How Could Anyone Possibly Know How I Feel?') and, as enshrined in the 1666 Moz At Of Parlaiment, one about unrequited love ('Let Me Kiss You'). And to top it all, set-closer 'Irish Blood, English Heart', a petulant declaration of bloodymindedness, shows he can still knock out a single as irresponsibly brilliant as anything by The Smiths.

            It's a song by these old muckers, 'There Is A Light...'), that crushes any obstacle in his flirtation with the sublime. The response is sizzling. One not-so-lazy dyke manages to dodge security to gently touch him. An air of celebration, admiration and teeth-grinding jealousy fills the room before she's manhandled offstage with the weary efficiency that only experience with the Marines or Moz can give you. At the end of 'Shoplifters...', he tosses his shirt into the audience. The still haf-naked Faketits attempts to grab it - raining blows in unfortunate heads. It's hardly Wildean but what this scene lacks in the wit characteristic of the rest of the evening, it more than makes up for in hilarity.

          This is a revitalised Morrissey with an equally energetic audience. While people were piffling away with breezy Britpop and earnest humourless acousticology, he's been quietly growing out of being a mere icon and becoming an institution. And, like those equally institutions of Catholicism and Coronation Street, however hard you try, you always go back to Morrissey in the end.

Anthony Thornton.

Gig Report
Victoria Rees, 29
From: London
High Point
"When a bloke who got onstage during 'Shoplifters...' was grabbed by security and lifted his shirt to reveal a tattoo on his stomach that said "MOZ""
Best Song
"Everyday Is Like Sunday"
Performance (on a scale from Gene:Ordinary Boys to Gene Simmons:God Of Thunder)
Definitely Gene Simmons!