Morrissey interview with Gal Uchovsky


Don't ask
Published last weekend in Time Out Tel Aviv. Like the Ashkenazi piece, this is more of a memoir than an interview. Translated by me. Notes in square brackets added by me. This is long.

Gal Uchovsky

The door opens. Into the suite in the luxury hotel Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park come Morrissey and his manager, Sarah. The suite is styled in an old English fashion, heavily decorated with wood and velvet. It has a bedroom, a shower, and a large lounge where the official meeting is supposed to take place. Morrissey and Sarah enter just as Lior Ashkenazi and I are leaving the bathroom together. It's more innocent than what you have in mind. We had a few minutes to be arranged, so I took him there to show him the prestigious Jo Malone shampoo that is placed on the marble near the sink for the visitor's pleasure. We both washed hands with this shampoo and now our freshness can be smelled from afar.
Morrissey smiles at us. That is, at Lior. He politely tells him "thank you for coming" and shakes his hand. He looks at him like a fan meeting a beloved film actor. Then he shake my hand and says "we corresponded by email, right?". "Ahh yes, yes, sure", I proudly answer, smiling shyly, trying to conceal the height of my excitement. We're stuck with him in a narrow corridor for a long moment, where it is unclear who will be the first to step forward. Lior comes to his senses and leads the four of us into the lounge.
For how many years have I waited for this moment. How many times have I imagined our first meeting. And no, it wasn't planned to be crowded, in a badly decorated entrance to a hotel suite, while I'm standing at the bathroom doorway.
I've already seen him before, though it wasn't much of a meeting. It was during the end of 1984. The Smiths were the new, revered band with the gay vocalist who wrote gloomy love songs for men. I came to London and I suddenly saw that they're performing in the Brixton Academy. I went there before evening fell, to buy a ticket from a tout. When he came on the stage in a light linen shirt and sang those amazing songs, I knew that he would be the man of my life. He had everything that I dreamt of. He looked like an interesting man, a little tormented. His voice amazed me, and these songs with the unique lyrics made it clear to me beyond any doubt that this man's soul is the soul that I must get to know deeply. That it will be thickly bound with my own soul.
A year later, during my next visit in London, I found the address of his record company, Rough Trade, and I walked there in order to ask that they might arrange me an interview with him. The reception clerk was very courteous, explained to me that he hardly gives interviews, and reminded me that requests for me had already arrived from the record company in Israel, and that it had been made clear to them that Morrissey is busy.
It seems that my craving stare touched her heart. "Perhaps you could write him a note", she suggested, "it sometimes helps", and I immediately scribbled a couple of sentences in my ugly handwriting, finishing with "please, please, please let me get what I want", my favorite line from one of the most beautiful songs he ever wrote. I think that the clerk peeked at the note and was a little touched by it, because before she sent me away she gave me all the singles that the band released up to then on 7" vinyl records, and also posters printed to promote each single.
Naturally, I guard and keep them to this very day, and two years ago, in a moment of great pride, I made sure that they will be used to decorate Ha'Ozen ha'Shlishith store [a famous record store in Tel Aviv] when it appeared in our film The Bubble, a film that is, among others, dedicated to him. Generally, I have quite a large collection at home of Morrissey items. Every CD that he ever put out, in every possible version, books, DVDs. After 25 years of a successful career, these shelves have become quite huge.

Bigmouth Strikes Again
I don't remember when it was exactly that I realised that we're not going to ever be a couple. I think that it happened when I began to understand something about suitability between people. At the beginning, I thought that it would be just perfect between us. I'm an optimistic, noisy person, usually in a good and friendly mood, while he's bitter, reclusive and misanthropic. Together we'll complete each other and form a new, cool entity.
Later, I figured that he tends to fall in love, or at least to get excited about, the enigmatic kinds of men, characters such as Rusty James as played by Matt Dillon in Rumble Fish. Old-style men with tattoos, who mince words, who don't belong to the mainstream. He will certainly not choose to share his life with a fast-talking journalist.
I had no choice, I matured, and I made room in my heart for real loves, with flesh and blood persons, who live around me and with whom I can also cuddle at the end of the day. Still, the deal with him was left unsettled. Meeting him became one of those things that you write in your metaphorical notebook under the title "Things that I must do at least once during my life".
Three years ago, contact was suddenly made. Morrissey was asked on his fan site "what is your favorite film that you saw recently", and he answered that he saw an amazing Israeli film named Late Wedding and fell in love with the excellent lead actor Lior Ashkenazi, and then he added "since then I saw another Israeli film starring him, Walk On Water, and it's also a good film". In one day I received at least ten emails directing me to the site. I wasn't lazy and I emailed the site's editor, presented myself and asked to deliver him a message.
A couple of days later, an email arrived from an AOL address, laconically saying "From Morrissey. Hello, is this Gal?". The truth is that I responded by screaming. Morrissey? In my mail? I literally screamed aloud.
I decided not to appear too enthusiastic and responded: "Yes, it's me. Is that really you? Because my heart just missed a beat," and Morrissey responded "No, it's not me. It's someone else". A couple of more mails followed, we somehow got to chat about the Eurovision, he told me that his all-times favorite song is an obscure song named Pomme, Pomme, Pomme, with which Monique Melsen represented Luxembourg in the year 1971 and reached the 13th place. I advised him to buy the DVD released by the European Broadcasting Union to celebrate 50 years for the contest, and he laconically answered: "do you think that I haven't got it already?"
This correspondence took place exactly during the period when his last record, Ringleader of the Tormentors, was released, and the best-known fact about it is that it was written in Rome, where Morrissey lived for two years. Coinciding with the album's release, a huge interview with him was published in one of the English journals, where the reporter excitedly told that after the interview Morrissey gave him his private email address, and even answered when the editorial board sent him questions for proofreading.
A week after the interview was published I discovered that the address that I have is no longer valid. All the random attempts that I made in the following months to send mails have failed. And now, towards his arrival in Israel, we nevertheless meet. Morrissey explained to the concert production that the only thing that he's willing to do as part of the concert's public relations is to give an interview to Lior Ashkenazi, that is, meet him. He agreed that I would join as well.
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Don't ask
Part two

I Want the One I Can't Have
Jacky is a 45-years old German man. He has a small quiff and square, black-rimmed glasses. He wears jeans and a simple shirt with squares, and he looks like someone who once appeared in a Morrissey video. During the last month, it turns out, Morrissey switched managing companies. Jacky represents the new company. He doesn't know Morrissey well, and like a typical German, he's very polite and formal.
He meets us in the lobby of the luxurious hotel, some kind of a crossbreed between a traditional English hotel and a boutique hotel. We have a polite chat and then he takes us upstairs to the suite, where a cameraman and a photographer are already getting ready to document the event. We meet Sarah. She's been his personal manager for three years now, an American, silver-haired, assertive with a "no-bullshit" attitude. She stares at us penetratingly and says: "you will have 20 minutes. And if you ask him questions about the Smiths, he'll just get up and leave, I'm warning you". I know this style from previous interviews with pop stars and Hollywood actors. Lior, who simply agreed to come because Morrissey asked, gave me a stare that meant that he's a bit surprised that she's talking to us that way.
Morrissey is a big man. Tall, wide, with an impressive presence. He looks in real life just like he does in photos. His skin is pink, it's clear that he doesn't get much sunlight, his stare is penetrating, and I find him to be a very handsome man, even if is quiff is a bit thin. He wears a linen shirt with a gentle, grey-coloured sweater. His jeans are blue, dark, traditional, lacking any kind of hypocrisy. He wears this kind of English shoes, pointy with embedded linen and leather.
He speaks quietly, almost mumbles. The small tape recorder that I brought can hardly get him. He sits in his chair, looks at Lior, and doesn't say anything but "Thank you for coming. I'm happy to meet you". I admit that I was a little suspicious that the beginning with him would be tough, so I made sure that we'd come equipped with presents. DVD versions of all of the films made by Eytan Fox and me, to which we added in the duty free store both of Dover Kosashvili's films. And since there was a sale, also The Band's Visit. Apart from that, I included two books, the new English edition of City Guide to Tel Aviv and an English version of Alon Hilu's Death of a Monk. I think that the protagonist in this book, a narcissist filled with self-hatred, is exactly the type of characters that he likes.
The gift did the job. Who doesn't like gifts? Morrissey claimed that he's already seen "Gift from Above", Kosashvili's second film, but for some reason it was from a copy without translation. I used the opportunity and asked him if he sees a lot of "art house films", which is the American term for quality films. Morrissey looked at me as if he doesn't really understand answered "do you mean foreign language films?", which is the British term. When I said yes, he mumbled something and we couldn't understand if he was saying "Iranian films" or "Romanian films" and when we asked he answered that both. From there, the interview quickly deteriorated.
- Where do you live?
"Nowhere. Why live somewhere?"
- But you lived in Rome?
"Yes, but not anymore".
Lior tried also to help and asked Morrissey what's his everyday schedule. "I jog", he answered.
- Really?
The deal became very frustrating. No subject that we raised turned into a conversation.
- Do you like it when you're asked specific questions about song lyrics?
"Such as?"
- My favorite song from the last album is Dear God Please Help Me, where you describe a walk through the streets of Rome. Can you explain to me how it was written?
"What's there to explain?"
But when the conversation was really about to stall he saved it with a little cynicism. I tried to talk with him about old Smiths songs that people like. And then he said, "I can guess which song of mine you like the best".
- Which one?
"Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep".
Only seniors remember this song by the English group Middle of the Road, with the blonde vocalist Sally, who sang in 1971 a series of hits with great names such as Soley Soley and Tweedle Dee Tweedle Dum. Later Morrissey tried to understand if I'm familiar with Dominique, a hit that took the world by storm mainly because it was sung by a nun known as The Singing Nun. Unfortunately, I did not know it, and the conversation died.
Then we moved to the Eurovision. Morrissey got a little confused. He claimed that his favorite song is Abanibi by Halav u'Dvash, and also said that he actually doesn't actually watch the contest since the early eighties. I asked him about the rumor that he wanted to represent England in the contest and he said that "it's true, I really did want to represent England, and also informed the BBC, but they demanded that I participate in a preliminary contest against all kind of novice singers and it seemed redundant to me. Had they offered me to do it simply, with no contest, I would have gone".
Very quickly it was clear to me that there won't be any great interview here. I made a last attempt to ask meaningful questions.
- You're going to turn 50 this year. Does that occupy you?
"No, not especially".
- Are you planning something?
"Maybe a party".
- And who are you going to invite?
I figured out that all the questions that I always meant to ask him will have to wait or stay hung in the air. We tried to at least understand what he sings in concerts and he explained that he sings what he wants. There's quite a diverse repertoire of songs that the band is familiar with, and he maneuvers according to his wishes. A little bit of Smiths and many songs from all of his solo albums.
Most of the time I kept a straight face, even though it was really hard. After all, it's Morrissey. One really wants to talk with him about Reel Around the Fountain, the most beautiful song in the world, which opens the first Smiths album with the immortal lines "It's time the tale were told, of how you took a child and you made him old", so at the end I couldn't hold myself and asked him if there's any chance that he's going to sing it at the concert, and he answered "No, no way. No chance". "But it's such a pretty song", I tried. He gave me a meaningful smile which I didn't really manage to decipher.


Don't ask
Part three

This Joke Isn't Funny Anymore
After twenty minutes, his manager started checking if he's tired of it and wants to leave. She made it with very obvious gestures, and from that moment on, even though he stayed with us for almost an hour, everything took place while in the background, in sign language, an option of ending the meeting is being checked. In that part the conversation also reversed and Morrissey started asking us questions. He briefly interrogated Lior about his acting career, when he started, did he always want to be an actor and who his childhood heroes were. When Lior counted his childhood heroes, including Kirk Douglas and Burt Lancaster, Morrissey replied with "all Americans", and Lior quickly said that he also admired Tom Conti, as to appear more international. Later on, Morrissey was interested in Israel. What do we see on our television? What's Tel Aviv like? Will anyone even come to see him sing? Could he walk in the streets without policemen harassing him?
This last question probably sounds a bit peculiar to you, but it was asked, just like that. We promised him that Israel is really great, and then he explained that actually the thing that he wants the most is to drive to the Dead Sea and float on the water. Lior promised to take him to a secret place where he could both cover himself with mud and avoid contact with too many travelers.
Even in that part of the conversation, where we, in the familiar Israeli groove, became ambassadors and explained to him how much fun it is over here, it's hard to say that any intimacy was created, or even a flowing conversation. Morrissey works on resistance and hatred. He tends to see the negative in everything, and it seems that had I told him that it's certain that Israeli policemen will beat him up or at least give him some trouble, he would've been almost happy.
For example, he spoke harshly about Kylie Minogue, and cynically asked "Did you hear that she received an OBE this week from the Queen for her contributions to music? What exactly did she contribute? Can she sing? Can she write a song?". "Actually she got songwriting credits in some of her albums", I tried to save her honour. "She probably bought them with money," he answered with scorn. I tried to make the issue more complicated: "but why do you actually care about her?". Morrissey gently resisted the question.
Almost an hour passed when it was decided that the meeting is over. Morrissey understood that Lior and I didn't really enjoy ourselves. He looked at us and said "So I'll see you tonight, right? You'll come backstage. They're taking care of your passes and everything, right?". We both answered together "sure, we'll be glad to". And it seemed that he was signaling with his eyes that until now it was business – still, there was a cameraman who filmed everything – and in the evening we'll have fun.
Both Lior and I came out with a not very pleasant feeling from this meeting. I understand that he's Morrissey, and that he's built himself a public persona which he guards meticulously. But somehow it was a little disappointing. As if he invested a lot of energy to make sure that no moment of the meeting will be meaningful or true. He practically made sure that he doesn't say anything.
We arrived at Hyde Park at eight o'clock. In the background we heard a familiar voice, and when we got closer it turned out that it was Beck, singing the beloved Galgalatz [Israel's mainstream, most popular radio station] hit Lost Cause. But until we surrounded the fence in order to reach the guests gate, the concert was over. The festival that Morrissey performed in is called Wireless 02. It's a relatively new event that tries to bring the feeling of English summer festivals such as Glastonbury to the middle of London.
The success is, of course, partial, because in order to enjoy such a festival, English people need a lot of beer and mud, and especially to be far away from home. Wireless 02 is a polite festival, where everyone is very quiet between the shows. We entered the backstage area. There were hundreds of people there, who looked like a mix between the business and advertising men and the young band members, journalists and their friends.
The German Jacky found us and explained that we'll meet Morrissey only after the concert, in a much more hidden place. That is, the backstage's backstage. He advised that we go and enjoy the concert, which will start exactly in a quarter to nine, and indeed, barely ten minutes late, Morrissey took the stage accompanied by a band of five young players with Playboy shirts. He opened with his ancient hit, The Last of the Famous International Playboys, and promptly moved to one of the Smiths' prettiest songs, Ask.
The crowd was hypnotized. The English people who came to the concert love him like he was God, or at least Shlomo Artzi [a very successful Israeli singer]. They sing his long and elaborate lyrics with him and make no mistakes. Next to us stood a father, probably 40 years old, who knew every word, which wasn't as exciting as the fact that on his shoulders sat his daughter, not more than 6 years old, and she also knew all the words. On certain lines it sounded quite amusing.
Morrissey is a solo singer, with a band of musicians, but unlike Israeli singers he came from the rock'n'roll tradition. Which means that he doesn't give a fuck when he performs. During the concert he changed shirts five times, most of the times in front of the audience. He removes an American Idol T-shirt and throws it into the crowd, stands in front of them sweating, and then wears a turquoise linen shirt instead.
Unlike the rumors, he didn't become fat. He's no Michael Lewis [a famous Israeli model], but his body is well kept and pleasant to stare at. He talks a lot with the audience, or more correctly taunts it. From the beginning he explains that the smell of the hot dogs and hamburgers that they ate before the concert is disgusting. "You're putting death in your body. Death. What for?". He slanders Kylie again, as well as the mayor of London and, naturally, George Bush, and promises to party in January when Bush leaves his office.


Don't ask
Part four

I Started Something I Couldn't Finish
A Morrissey concert is an exciting event, especially if you love him, and it's quite reminiscent of the tracklist of the Greatest Hits album that he's released this year. Morrissey is still one of the greatest singers on Earth. Very few people can sing this way, with such power. I would like to explain why I find it so beautiful, but it seems to me to be impossible. You either get English rock or you don't.
In England like in England, the show lasts exactly an hour and a half. The encore is short, but it includes This Charming Man [sic], to hear and to die. Towards the end Morrissey removes his shirt for the last time. It's a blue buttoned shirt. His body is sweaty, his face is dripping. He's holding the shirt by one of its shoulders and leads it along the stage as if it were a pet. Once, in 1984, he did it with gladiolas. To be honest, with the shirt it's cuter.
Jacky arrives backstage again and leads us to the really closed domain. We walk a couple of hundred meters by foot until we reach a small piece of grass with a sunshade in its middle. A white wooden fence surrounds it and in the entrance there's a guard, of course, even though very few people actually make it so far. Jacky lets us inside and says that Morrissey will arrive soon.
We take two beers and sit by one of the table. Two young guys ask if they can sit with us. "Who are you?", I ask. "I'm Liam, and we're from a band, we're called the Courteeners". "Okay", I answer, "you might be surprised, but I'm familiar with your debut album." This Liam is very excited to meet Morrissey for the first time. "Think about it, a year ago I was still selling shirts in Manchester, and look where I am now".
The Courteeners are another one of those bands that came from Manchester with the British rock press immediately hailing them as the direct descendents of Morrissey and possibly the next Smiths. Since the Smiths broke up there have been dozens, if not hundreds, of such band. Most of them disappear after an album and a half without leaving a mark. But the Courteeners are exactly in that moment of making a mark, and this Liam is very excited.
Not far from me I spot Chrissie Hynde. She's 57 years old and looks great. A thin figure, well put inside black jeans, with her face shining. Next to her stands a tall, charismatic fellow who looks pretty pleased with himself, and they keep giggling all the time. Apart from them, there are no more than ten people around us. Everyone's waiting.
Morrissey arrives after fifteen minutes. He's still with the same shoes that he wore in our meeting and performed in tonight. Naturally, he showered and changed clothes. He looks very calm and hearty. He elegantly scans the site with his eyes, and understands who's present. Hynde is the first that falls upon him and showers him with compliments. From the side, it sounds like these hollow compliments, standard but not burdensome. Morrissey responds politely and nods.
After a couple of minutes he leaves her for a moment and marks us to get near. He introduces us to Hynde, who immediately starts a long speech about the Israeli son of a bitch who was her boyfriend during the last year and left her. "I even left his apartment to his parents", she says bitterly. I try to understand what his name was, but she's not one to be fooled so easily. "You probably don't know him. He's totally not a cool guy like you. He's someone else", she says. "Come to Israel, we'll fix you up with someone better", I try to calm her. "There are a lot of guys in Tel Aviv". Hynde actually has good memories from her show in Israel, but when she starts digging deeper into the romance that was, Morrissey interferes and changes the subject.
He introduces us to Russell, the guy who's standing near us. "He's a famous comedian over here", he explains to us in this tone we use to explain things to third world guests. "What's your last name?", I ask Russell, and he politely answers "Brand". I notice that people around me are a little terrified that I don't know who he is, but Russell, like a good actor, understands immediately that he has to make Lior and me fall for him, and starts with some very funny monologues.
Only the morning after, at the airport, when his face will smile at me from the front page of Q magazine, I'll understand that he's the hottest man in Britain, that he was fired from MTV a couple of years ago after arriving to an interview with Kylie Minogue dressed as Bin Laden, and that now he's on his way to take over Hollywood. It turns out that there's a part in his daily radio show called "Making Morrissey Unhappy", where he talks about stuff that will probably annoy Morrissey. Morrissey seems to enjoy this part very much. Who said that he can't laugh about himself.
While the conversation is going on we're joined by a blonde lady, motherly looking, shining and friendly, and two of her 20-year old sons. Say hello to Morrissey's sister and his two cousins, who arrived from Manchester and give the whole event a completely domestic feeling. In front of the cousins who ask regular questions such as for how long are you going to be in London ("two days"), where are you going then ("Switzerland"), and where then ("not to Barcelona"), Morrissey seems for the first time like a gentle, standard man, around my age. It's obvious that he likes his cousins very much, and it seems that he has a normal relationship with them.
Time passes, Morrissey drinks quite a few Coronas and doesn't abstain from burping. He's nice with Liam and his friends from the Courteneers and puts two CD-Rs that they give him in the pocket of his suit. Sarah, his manager, brings an Italian journalist who makes a lot of noise, and there's also a veteran, admired BBC broadcaster named Janice Long. The feeling is very domestic. Whoever arrived here belongs to the small club of people that Morrissey agrees to have around him.
Naturally, no one asks for autographs or photos, neither with cameras nor with cellphones. The conversations, as nice as they are, remain correctly polite. I stare at Lior and understand that this meeting is a bit of a reparation. Morrissey tells me that he already managed to leaf through the Tel Aviv City Guide. "I understand that Habitat [an Israeli deluxe furniture store] is the store for me", he smiles, and adds "I also read the article that you wrote at the beginning of the book, a pretty article. I especially liked the concluding sentence", and then he quotes it.
I confess, I'm excited. Finally, not only did we meet, he also understands that I'm worth something. He's quoting a sentence that I wrote.


Don't ask
Part five

There Is a Light That Never Goes Out
Time passes and I feel that I can pull the string a little more. "Do you think that you will sing more of your famous songs in Israel?". "I don't think so, I've sang them enough times, it bores me". I decide to be assertive. "But you have to remember that most people who will see you in Israel have never seen you on a stage before. Don't they don't deserve some Everyday Is Like Sunday?". Morrissey tries to be nice. "We'll see".
Time passes, and it's clear that soon everyone will go. We're almost the last to stay. Lior promises him again a trip to the Dead Sea, and I ask "do you still have my email address?", "No, I don't think so". I don't dare, of course, to offer it to him, and I certainly don't ask for his. We march with him to a luxurious car that will drive him back to the hotel. Morrissey says goodbye nicely, and we're left alone in the dark, in the middle of Hyde Park.
After he's gone, Lior pulls out a little card from his pocket, slipped there by Morrissey's manager. On one side, the words "Don't Speak" are printed, while on the other side, in Morrissey's handwriting, his new email address. I admit that it pisses me off. Not only because it's insulting, but also because it was clear to me that he knew that Lior will show me the ticket, and he didn't care.
We catch a cab to Soho, eat something before we sleep, and in six in the morning we're on our way to the airport. This whole trip to London lasted barely a day, maybe 30 hours, and when I board the plane I'm not certain that all of this actually happened. I try to listen to the tape I recorded in the first meeting with him, and discover that the sound quality is awful, that he can barely be heard. During the week, it also turns out that the videotape that was filmed for YNet isn't very good, and it disappears for a long week in the wilderness of the customs and postal service bureaucracy. And if that's not enough, it also turns out that the AP photographer deleted the photos where I appeared, and put on only the ones with Morrissey that were published in Yedioth [the Israeli newspaper that published the Lior Ashkenazi piece], so that no photographed document of this meeting exists.
Even now, while sitting near my computer, I'm not sure that I actually met him. It could also have been a short film or a short story shot by one of his fans. There was once such a film, My Life with Morrissey, about a fan who meets him. It could've also been a dream. So in my diary I can mark a V, another dream that came true. But the truth is that we haven't really met.
I can't even say that it was a dream that shattered, because as someone who saw and read so many interviews with him, I know that he acts like that. And all in all, backstage at night he was very friendly. It's obvious that he might come this week to three nights in Tel Aviv and choose not to make any connection with Lior, and certainly not with me. Or perhaps it will turn out that he has other acquaintances here. Or maybe he'll just go out on the street, meet some random people and take him out to spend time with him.
After coming back, I listened continuously to some of his albums that I love the best. His latest, You Are the Quarry, and also Viva Hate and Your Arsenal. And it was so beautiful that it didn't really matter to me if I ever met that man. Then I put the first Smiths album in the stereo, and the moment that those Reel around the Fountain drums started, my throat got a little wet. Because the truth is that the Smiths' music is such a part of me that even Morrissey can't tear us apart. I'm sure that it's going to be an amazing show this week.

Je Suis Julie
Thank you for this, davdavon. A Herculean feat!

I don't know what to make of this.....
I don't like how Uchovsky makes so many assumptions about Morrissey's motivations and such. Something just rubs me the wrong way.


Forgot my login!
Thank you for this, davdavon. A Herculean feat!

I don't know what to make of this.....
I don't like how Uchovsky makes so many assumptions about Morrissey's motivations and such. Something just rubs me the wrong way.
I think he just fell into the fan's trap of having really fixed ideas about Morrissey and how the meeting would go, and subsequently not being able to deal with the reality that Mprrissey is a complete stranger to him. He seemed to think that Morrissey should immediately be open with him and accept him as a friend when the situation really was that he was tagging along with Lior and Morrissey was just putting up with him for the sake of politeness.


New Member
Thanks so much for this. I really enjoyed reading it, despite Morrissey's grumpy ways :) I think Moz likes it best when interviewers are cheeky and *fight back* verbally. For some reason, I don't think he likes to be interviewed by the starry eyed; he prefers some bantering.
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from the Ice Age to the dole age
"the gay vocalist"?

oh, god :rolleyes:

Je Suis Julie
I know what you mean. Maybe it's like they say - you should never meet your heroes.
Poor Moz, having to constantly deal with everyone's expectations. (And then read about their 'disappointment' in print, every word and every glance dissected - egads!) It's no wonder he's so guarded.

I think he just fell into the fan's trap of having really fixed ideas about Morrissey and how the meeting would go, and subsequently not being able to deal with the reality that Mprrissey is a complete stranger to him. He seemed to think that Morrissey should immediately be open with him and accept him as a friend when the situation really was that he was tagging along with Lior and Morrissey was just putting up with him for the sake of politeness.
Yeah, that had to sting a little.
But still, I detect a subtle vendetta underlying this article, which makes me uncomfortable.

Oh well, back to the frink :rolleyes:


New Member
I know what you mean. Maybe it's like they say - you should never meet your heroes.
I know, it was so endearind to read Uchovsky complaining about Morrissey not answering any questions. I wanted to scream "Well what did you expect? It's Morrissey!" at him. :D

Still, I'd give anything for just 15 minutes alone with man. :o
Oh anne, so would I! :)


New Member
I know, it was so endearind to read Uchovsky complaining about Morrissey not answering any questions. I wanted to scream "Well what did you expect? It's Morrissey!" at him. :D

Still, I'd give anything for just 15 minutes alone with man. :o
LOL true, it is our Morrissey :cool: he's just like a feline- if he likes you, he'll (metaphorically speaking) rub against your legs and butt you with his head, but if you try and catch him, good luck! You won't ever win! I'd hate to meet his manager, Sarah, in a dark alley. Sheesh.
Thank you Davdavon for all that work! Very interesting read. :D

It sounds like this guy Gal had some unrealistic expectations.....
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