Morrissey-solo
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posted by
davidt
on Monday May 24 2004, @12:00PM
Georgethetwentythird writes:
Today's edition of Britain's most respected newpaper (allegedly - although it's now owned by Rupert Murdoch sadly!) goes Morrissey overboard today, with no less than three articles/reviews! Firstly, there's a review of the MEN Arena concert - although surprisingly this is fairly lukewarm (3 out of 5 stars), describing the concert thus: "the pacing overall was languid and one-dimensional, and the show lacked moments of tension and release." The reviewer seems to have preferred Franz Ferdinand! Back from exile BY DAVID SINCLAIR Pop: Morrissey MEN Arena, Manchester THERE have been some turnarounds in the history of pop, but few more dramatic than the recent change in Morrissey’s fortunes. His new album, You Are the Quarry, sold more on its first day of release last week (26,000 copies), than his previous album, Maladjusted, sold in seven years. He is back on the covers of a music press which for years had either pilloried or ignored him. It is not Morrissey who has changed, so much as the world around him. A new generation of fans has been alerted to his charms by bands such as Franz Ferdinand who have sung the praises of the former frontman of the Smiths. And his move to America gave older fans time to realise that they missed him. There was certainly a heady mood of celebration in the air as Morrissey returned to his hometown on the opening night of his British tour on Saturday, which was also his 45th birthday. His arrival was preceded by the unveiling of his name spelt out in 20ft illuminated letters, while a voice read out a litany of modern ills: cancer, evil gossip, Tiananmen Square, Jimmy Tarbuck. “Regrets, I’ve had a few/ But then again too many to mention,” Morrissey sang, sweeping on the stage like a bizarre parody of Frank Sinatra, in shirt and jacket with a piece of ivy dangling suggestively out of the front of his trousers. Accompanied by his five-man band, all in gangster suits and big-collared shirts, he swept through songs from the new album, together with older solo material and a smattering of Smiths numbers, including Headmaster’s Ritual, Rubber Ring, and Rush and a Push. There were moments of bathos and nostalgia aplenty, as when the mirrorball started up during I Know It’s Gonna Happen and he sang in his famously distracted way, as if crooning along in a different time frame to the rest of the world. But while the new songs certainly passed muster, the pacing overall was languid and one-dimensional, and the show lacked moments of tension and release. Earlier, Franz Ferdinand turned in a contrastingly swift, action-packed set that bristled with energy and attitude. Combining the clout of a classic guitar band with an intelligent, art-school cool, they exuded a sense of destiny with every sleek, razor-sharp riff and hummable chorus, and quickly won over Morrissey’s crowd. “Whatever happens, please don’t forget me,” Morrissey pleaded, rather sadly, before the encore of There is a Light. There wasn’t much danger of that on Saturday. But if it does happen again, at least with bands like Franz Ferdinand his legacy is in safe hands." *** Secondly, there's a page-long feature entitled "Morrissey's Town Isn't Miserable Now", which talks to fans who attended the concert, plus an interview with Phill Gatenby, who organised the bus-trip. Alex from Franz Ferdinand also writes a piece on the gig. "The Manchester of Morrissey isn't so miserable now BY ADAM SHERWIN, MEDIA REPORTER MORRISSEY, the Wildean chronicler of Northern English life who fronted the seminal Eighties band the Smiths, completed a remarkable comeback last night. His first album in seven years, You Are The Quarry, has stormed into the UK charts at No 2, one better than last week’s career-best placing for his new single Irish Blood, English Heart. The twin feats were celebrated, with Morrissey’s 45th birthday, on Saturday at his first concert in Manchester, his home town, in 12 years. The 18,000 seats sold out in a few hours. Fans of the enigmatic singer are notoriously obsessive and their arrival in droves from the US, Australia and the Far East has created an unusual tourist boom for Manchester. Morrissey littered his tales of romantic alienation with detailed geographical references to his tortured upbringing in Manchester’s gloomy suburbs. His fans have demanded to visit sites in “Morrissey’s Manchester”, including Strangeways prison, name-checked in an album title, and the Salford Lads Club, where the Smiths posed for the cover photo of their 1986 record, The Queen Is Dead. One enterprising Mancunian, Phill Gatenby, has capitalised on the Morrissey tourist trail by marketing coach tours that take fans to the singer’s teenage home in Stretford and the red light district in Whalley Range, quoted in the Smiths’ song Miserable Lie. The tours have been fully booked. Manchester’s proud musical heritage could be the source of valuable tourist income, said Mr Gatenby, who has also published a guidebook to Morrissey’s Manchester. “There isn’t another city in the world that for the past 40 years has so consistently influenced the music scene,” he said. “Oasis package tours and Joy Division walking trips could follow.” This weekend, more than 500 fans passed through the hallowed doors of Salford Lads Club, which has secured a £25,000 lottery grant to build a “Smithsonian Room” commemorating the band’s role in the club’s history. The coach parties have been ecstatic. “It has been a lifelong dream of mine to come to Salford,” Elvira Valdez, 25, from Los Angeles, said. “When you live in a city that is so plastic and fake, an artist like Morrissey is so welcome because he is genuine and real.” Cecilia Leung, 29, flew from Melbourne on a whistle-stop three-day trip to Manchester. She said: “It’s great to meet other fans and visiting the places really helps you understand the atmosphere that defined the music.” Ian Lichterman, 27, a Philadelphia police officer, spent $1,000 (£560) on his trip, including $200 for a ticket to the Manchester Arena concert bought from the eBay auction website. “I have fulfilled my dream by coming here to Salford Lads Club,” Mr Lichterman said. “Now how do I get to Strangeways prison?” Several fans were overcome when Mr Gatenby introduced his surprise guest: Andy Rourke, former bassist with The Smiths, walked into the club carrying an acoustic guitar. After strumming through a few Smiths classics and signing autographs, Mr Rourke said: “I think it is a little crazy that fans come from around the world to see places like Salford. I’m very flattered, of course.” Morrissey declined to appear on the tour but his return to Top Of The Pops has been one of the smartest “spin” operations in rock music. Twelve years ago he was accused of racism, a charge he dismissed, when he performed holding a Union Jack and recorded a song about the National Front. Sales of his records slumped and the normally voluble singer retreated to Los Angeles. For years he refused to give interviews and eventually abandoned recording albums. But the rise of “Slob Idol”, as the singer calls the fashion for television talent shows, alongside the success of uncontroversial artists such as Coldplay and Dido, meant that the music world was ready for the return of one of Britain’s most colourful characters. Morrissey chose the Glasgow band Franz Ferdinand to open his comeback concert, cementing his status as father figure to the country’s best new talent. Morrissey is curating the Meltdown Arts Festival at London’s South Bank next month, presenting a typically eclectic line-up that includes a conversation with the playwright Alan Bennett and a rare performance by his neighbour in California, Nancy Sinatra. " *** Most importantly, however, Moz's return even warranted a section in the editorial section, officially making him a National Institution! Has any the pop star ever featured in the Editorials without being part of a scandal? "Still charming A triumphant return for the Smiths’ Pope of Mope Long before Manchester became “Madchester” — when Baroness Thatcher was but a Mrs, the Falklands conflict was the war du jour and Labour remained resolutely old — a rock phenomenon was born. The Smiths eulogised a provincial dystopia made up of lads’ clubs, no-hope employment and literary run-ins at cemetery gates. It was a provincialism that would win them world renown. Two decades later the NME voted them the most influential band of all time, pummelling the Beatles, Stones, Sex Pistols and Shadows. Moreover, this weekend thousands of fans flocked from all over the world to join someone who rather pretentiously calls himself Morrissey, the band’s front man, in a musical celebration of his 45th birthday. There are many things one could say about the Smiths’ music, for those who care about such things: that it marked the end of synth-driven new wave and the beginning of the trend for guitar rock that prefigured the Brit Pop of the 1990s. But in the end it was really about being a bit moody. Fans skulked in their bedrooms, refusing supper on the ground that meat was murder, complaining that nobody understood them and becoming even more disgruntled if anyone did. But the alternative was being a Duran Duran fan, which, on reflection, was depressing in a different way. Until then, to eschew being woken up before one go-goed was to be a goth, but even goths knew that this in itself was embarrassing. Morrissey and co were too cool to actually be cool, playing up the vaudeville in NHS specs, hearing aid, and a back pocket stuffed with gladioli. There were post-punk, to be sure. But their love of rockabilly, crooners and girl groups meant that Smithsville could only ever be an irony-filled zone. The irony was overdone, but this is still true of much of British society: I’m only trying to be serious if you don’t take me seriously. Morrissey himself, aka “the Pope of Mope”, was the embodiment of histrionic angst. He was the son, he was the heir. He was human and he needed to be loved. But not before he had dragged us all down to his pathologically depressed level. Still fame, fame, fatal fame can play hideous tricks on the brain, as we learnt in 1987 when the laureate who had extolled the virtues of Wigan left for La La Land and seemed to like it. Then came the burp that was Brit Pop (Oasis produced one, and only one, interesting song) accompanied by a new Labour optimism that things could only get better, and if they didn’t there was always another round to get in. Ten years later the mood is less buoyant. The trademark quiff may be in need of artificial assistance, but the mouth and the melancholy remain potent."
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Times Editorial (Score:1)
Who'd have ever have dreamt it 12 months ago?
At last he's being properly recognised as an integral part of our cultural history.
Long live the Moz!
(User #11237 Info)
Still Waiting For Explanation! (Score:1)
(User #724 Info)