And so, The Palladium expects...
And The Palladium gets...belief and joy. An Event. Truly, a very special concert, in the sense of Morrissey 'in concert with' us ~ a shared endeavour. í go where you go, indeed. To-night's show was to the Royal Albert Hall show as City (currently) are to United (currently) ~ another order of being. Morrissey seems altered, for whatever reason.
His opening yawp to-night ~ 'í belong...í belong...í belong'. Ditto.
The difference to-night for me, can be felt most keenly in the 'LiHS' songs; there is a force of feeling at play that kicked them to another level. Whether it was the superior acoustics, the greater physical proximity, but í had an immediate and imminent sense of the inspiration and impetus of each new song. It did what you hoped any live verison of a song would do ~ a concentrated expression of the recorded song, opening up emotional vistas simply impossible from grooves in vinyl or MB per second.
{First, a little foreplay ~ a cute coupling that í hadn't noticed at the RAH. Toward the end of the audio warm-up section, Sly & the Family Stone's 'A Family Affair' goes into Lulu's 'To Sir, With Love'. It reminded me of Johnny's alleged assertion, that Nick Kent passed along to Morrissey in 'The Face' interview back in 1990, that The Smiths effectively split because of a choice between Sly and Herman's Hermits. Lulu could be said to be as far from Sly & the Family as the Hermits, so perhaps a knowing nod and a wink?
Nodding away, in the front row of the Royal Circle, í see Kevin Cummins, and í cannot resist approaching and shaking the hand which held the camera responsible for rendering so many iconic live shots alone of Moz, and simply offering thanks. We talk a little about the up-coming book, which he says he is really happy with what he's put together so far, in terms of quality and range. He is charm personified and as excited as any of us here to see what is in store.}
It seems entirely appropriate to this night and to the exalted surroundings to open with Elvis, in song and imagery, cloaked in an aura of classicism and crooning. And yet a canny move to deploy a lesser known Elvis song, as Moz can make it resolutley his own. Which he surely does.
The last time that í saw him at RAH his back was stained with that familiar heart shaped pool of perspiration; returning to his final London stage it is draped in the glitter backprint of a Gucci blazer.
'í feel it...and í'm going to say it!' precedes 'I Started Something I Couldn't Finish' and feel it he certainly does. In this mode, the song completes itself. It is not only that the lyrics are delivered with the feeling present at their inception, a genius act in itself, but that the physical gestures and movement through space underscore and illuminate that lyrical intent. The way in which he holds his body, parts his hair, reaches out to, then withdraws in hesitancy from, the crowd, along with the facial mannerisms ~ from mockery to dread to querulousness to query ~ a world of wonder. 'í grabbed you by the Heinz baked beans' had us laughing out loud. Boz's saxophone solo had me tingling, thinking of Bowie via Ronson (Mark). At moments like these, it becomes everything that you hoped and dreamed of the song.
The schmutter too is gettin some major lovin, and not just from these eyes, as he is flapping it wide open, wrapping it tight as a blanket around him, fists rammed in pockets.
For me, this is always the most underexamined aspect of Morrissey's art. His lyrics are powerful enough, but the way he enacts them physically on the live stage is an endless fascination and pleasure, and what sets him among the unique. The fact that this facet is less honed and considered than a written lyric is what nudges it in the direction of magic; it's the living, breathing, teetering moment, dependent on a host of myriad varied factors.
Perhaps the specific style of some of Morrissey's lyrics allow and enable this performative aspect his art. They are 4 minute dramas, potent enough on the cold page, but given even more lifeblood in the stage embodiment. Or is it the personal nature of the lyrics that facilitate it? í dunno.
'I Wish You Lonely' is the first of the 'LiHS' to-night to get the boost í mentioned before. One of the things that í loved across the span of 'LiHS' was the very particular clarity of delivery of the vocals. He wants these lyrics to be heard. This is not always the norm. On record, it didn't just feel like a question of vocal style, but a question of intent behind the style. To-night, 'I Wish You Lonely' expands exponentially on this aspect of the record, and not only can you hear it, you can see it in his gelignite peepers. This is what í had hoped for with the live versions of these new songs. My only disappointment is not being able to witness same with 'In Your Lap', 'All the Young People Must Fall in Love' and especially 'Israel'...
The 'Tombs are full of fools..' triptych of verses are flung to the gods with gusto. One of my favourite verses on the whole album is the closing one of 'I Wish..': 'the last tracked humbacked whale' finalé, From first listen, it immediately gripped me as an only-Moz metaphor of skewed poignancy and power; í loved just the sound of the words placed against each other, alongside the sound of his voice singing them, as well as the imagery it set forth. To-night it is all that í hoped for.
The Gucci gets another good workout with 'When You Open Your Legs', and í don't blame him. Once again, a 'LiHS' lyric is delivered with the freshness and vigour of new-found realisation, with my favourite line ~ 'Soon / there will come / the very final pull of earth / And until then / í will scream out your worth' ~ ascending through each circle of this heavenly venue into my heart.
As paltry as '..Police' may be, in comparison with its classmates on 'LiHS', it is here delivered with a passion that is surely impressive.
'How Soon Is Now?' finds Jesse having some trouble with his Wah-Wahs, so while he and his tech work on the problem, Moz does a little comedy turn listing the lost and best who've graced the Palladium: 'Our lives are enriched'...cue wahs. Sort of. He appears to continue to struggle with his guitar for the duration of the song, but the rest of the band more than make up the gap, especially Moz, who fills the apparent gaps with many giddy vocal additons to the standard lyric, even if just falsetto flourishes, screams or melody lines. For me, it lacked the heft and sonic dizzynes í described at RAH, but Moz injected it with an added vibrancy.
'November Spawned a Monster' is greeted like an old friend. And with screams. (And we've all had friends like that). Screams seem appropriate for the rather shabby, sickly light show, bringing to mind summer memories of 70s Blackpool ghost trains. But, the rendition is utterly majestic; you have that heady sensation of hearing an old favourite, that winning mix of warmth and certainty, sung as if Moz had just written the words yesterday, so utterly present is the desperate passion. And í have missed Boz's clarinet.
'The Bullfighter Dies' is the same old song. 'Munich Air Disaster 1958' was made more immense by the grand scale of RAH, and to-night Morrissey's rendition is a tad more restrained, respectful and tidy, than the messy passion in evidence three nights ago. But the delicate subtlety of the musical backing is revealed by the Palladium acoustic.
As í indicated at RAH, 'Home Is A Question Mark' was the first lyric & vocal that wrested my heart into my mouth on first listen, and to-night is an undiluted pleasure to bear witness to this level of skillful expression.
'I Bury The Living' was a gradual intoxication on record, but once it had worked it's strange, dark magic on me, í became obsessed. í had been waiting for it at RAH, but the delay until now only heightens it's power. It is simply incendiary, and bursts free in every way imaginable from its recorded iteration. The fury, fear and fire of his vocal, and the physical embodiment of the words, the look on his face, the way he directs his body around the stage, send shivers up my neck even thinking of it now.
The 'Our John' mother coda is one of the most piercingly beautiful moments in a night riven with beauty, and it features, even now, a vocal texture that í had never heard from Morrissey in nigh on a hundred seen shows. The path from the eerie opening to the heartrending close leaves me as awestruck as í was after 'Jack the Ripper' at RAH. Awed at the true power of a music that no other art-form can truly equal. Music, at moments like these, is undoubtedly the most direct communication between human beings, in its most concerted form. To-night, for me, this is the glistening dark jewel of the set. í thought that í had this song all figured out, but this made me re-think alot of things.
'Back On The Chain Gang' and 'Spent The Day In Bed' are like the glorious sunshine after the darkest night, united by a joyous unity. Both songs feature rousing singalongs, both are greeted with roars of love. With the former, it is a no-brainer; everybody loves that song. With the latter, it's quite astonishing. í can't think of any other Morrissey song that has been so quickly taken up in peoples hearts as 'Spent the Day in Bed'. And í know that there are more than enough who can't abide, but to-night the Palladium crowd greeted it like an old friend, rather than a 6 month old newbie. People love this song; its sense of impudent life, any serious intent drawn as lightly and lovely as net curtains.
'Jack the Ripper' could never be more powerful than í found it to be at Kensington Gore, otherwise í would be in the hospital. (í had brought towels just in case). Somebody had gone silly buggers with the Palladium dry ice machine, rendering the whole mis-en scéne just the wrong side of invisibility. When Morrissey did emerge intermittently from the inferno, it was chilling ~ like a bloodied ghost, with deep black caverns for eyes. At times , it did seem to feel that the stage was on fire. My skin still reeks of dry ice! í think this may have been the song that featured the first of the stage invasions, although how anybody found their way to Moz was a miracle. The crowd greeted it as just reward.
'World Peace Is None Of Your Business' is rousingly and skillfuly done, but to no particular end that í could divine. Similary so with 'If You Don't Like Me, Don't Look At Me'.
'My Love, I'd Do Anything For You' is, like the other fresh tracks, increased in rigour, especially, this time, musically. In the second half of the song, the band builds beautifully and are united perfectly in a thrillingly nuanced and balanced display of purity of intent. It was just rockin'. Tight as a drum.
í am again stunned by the tender warmth of the vocal on 'Hold On To Your Friends', a perfect song for the Palladium. It rises and falls, chastises and advises, all in a lovely and loving fashion. Now, í cannot say if Jesse is unable to play Alain's superb guitar solo climax, or if Moz has decided to nix it, but í, personally, will always be waiting for that solo. It just takes it to a whole other level.
Whilst gleefully shaking hands with the front few rows during the climax of the song, Morrissey can be seen frequently looking upwards to the boxes, searching beyond the spotlights. After the applause fades, he explains 'If...you have noticed me smiling at the Royal Box...it's not because í've gone silly...but my Mother is in there...' cue loving glorious roars. Betty's beaming boy recedes into the blue, as Gustavo tinkles his ivories to usher in what í can only honestly describe as the zenith of all 'Everyday Is Like Sunday' renditions. The lights of heaven could not look as glorious as the house lights do to-night as they flood each thunderously sung chorus. Stage invaders is the very least this song deserves to-night.
'Jacky's Only Happy When She's Up On The Stage' is given a new life that it never quite achieves on the record, but it pales in comparison with what preceeded it and what is to follow.
'The Last Of The Famous International Playboys' is just wild abandon, and even better as a closer than as an opener, which is always amusing when one recalls that there was a time, briefly, when he disavowed it somewhat. One would never know it to-night, such is the joy and pride and passion surging through the song. Despite the know-alls predicting failure there were plenty of stage invaders (some more staged than invade, if you catch my drift) but there were enough genuine, tender rushes to render this an utterly unforgettable night in many a life.
On such nights as these you get to see every flicker and fibre of the passsion and intent at the point of the creation of these songs. As Morrissey posited to Linder a few years back, "live music is the strongest art because it combines so much—sound, words, physicality, movement, amplification, style, sex, dance, instant audience response". A perfect summary of this night! With the added anchor of all these aspects are at play in the one teetering moment, and the next, and the next. Time, do as i wish.
It's a pleasure and a privilege to bear witness here this evening, and why, as long as he can, and í can, í will return for more.
As soon as í saw Ms Dwyer and Morrissey's sister Jacqueline ushered in to the Royal Box, during the support videos, í knew that this was going to be a special night, and not just because Morrissey would be doing what he's done ever since channeling Marianne Faithful atop the kitchen table ~ be their best boy.
No, the unique joy and endless quest of these concerts is that you, as a human f***ing being, bring what you have to the feast. Seeing a mother and sister watching ten feet away, í could not help but think to my own mother and sister, and the love í have for both; one, newly mourned, and the other, bonded even closer to me now, in a grief newly borne.
What will survive of us is love, love, love.
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