S
stinky
Guest
Back from exile
By David Sinclair
Pop: Morrissey
MEN Arena, Manchester
3 stars out of 5
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.
By David Sinclair
Pop: Morrissey
MEN Arena, Manchester
3 stars out of 5
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.
