Morrissey - ProfilesArchive

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One of the most influential figures in alternative rock, Morrissey's legendarily sensitive, melancholy persona made him a highly polarizing icon, reviled in some quarters with nearly the same intensity he inspired in his passionately devoted fans. As the lead singer of the Smiths, arguably the most important indie band in Britain during the '80s, Morrissey's theatrical crooning and literate, poetic lyrics -- filled with romantic angst, social alienation, and cutting wit -- connected powerfully with a legion of similarly sensitive, disaffected youth. Yet as much as his fan base revered him, Morrissey was also criticized -- sometimes fairly, sometimes not -- for his self-absorption and determinedly miserable outlook (others simply couldn't stand his effeminacy). The Smiths were stars in Britain, exerting tremendous pull over much of the country's guitar-based music for many years after their breakup, but remained underground cult artists in the States. By the time Morrissey firmly established himself as a solo artist, that cult had grown to the point where he became more popular in the U.S. than in his homeland, where he was frequently dogged by controversy. Prevailing critical opinion on his solo albums holds that they don't measure up to his best work with the Smiths, yet the Mozzer (as he's affectionately nicknamed) has produced enough terrific music to keep his sizable fan base enthralled. Stephen Patrick Morrissey was born May 22, 1959, in Manchester, England; not surprisingly a shy, awkward youth, he became obsessed with music and film as a teenager and devoted his writing talents to penning a New York Dolls fanzine (he was the president of their U.K. fan club), as well as a tribute to James Dean and numerous opinionated letters to the weekly music paper Melody Maker. During the explosion of punk in the late '70s, Morrissey unsuccessfully auditioned for Slaughter & the Dogs and sang for a brief period with a band called the Nosebleeds. He met guitarist Johnny Marr in 1982 and the two began writing songs together, forging one of the most productive partnerships British pop had seen in quite some time. The Smiths' 1983 debut single, "Hand in Glove," a love song filled with oblique references to homosexuality, made them an underground sensation in the U.K. and as Morrissey attracted more attention, he demonstrated a flair for manipulating the media. His interviews were filled with blunt, unpredictable opinions and intentionally outrageous statements and his notoriety wasn't hurt by his stage presence (he performed wearing a hearing aid with flowers sticking out of his back pockets) or his self-proclaimed celibacy in the wake of much speculation about his sexuality. Possessed of a darkly cynical bent as a lyricist, he was often misinterpreted as advocating some of the more disturbing things he sang about, which only added to the furor surrounding the band. The Smiths' eponymous 1984 debut was a smash in the U.K. and in its wake, Morrissey began promoting his political views, heavily criticizing Margaret Thatcher, and advocating vegetarianism (hence the title of the follow-up LP, Meat Is Murder). The Queen Is Dead (1986) was acclaimed as a masterpiece, but friction between Morrissey and Marr was growing. Marr departed after 1987's Strangeways, Here We Come and Morrissey broke up the rest of the band to begin a solo career.Feeling betrayed by Marr's defection, Morrissey channeled his frustration into creating new material with producer Stephen Street. His first two solo singles, "Suedehead" and the gorgeous "Everyday Is Like Sunday," were significant British hits in 1988 and his first album, Viva Hate (its title a reference to the Smiths' breakup), was commercially and critically well-received. He released several more high-quality singles, including "The Last of the International Playboys" and "Interesting Drug," but spent an inordinate amount of time laboring on the follow-up album, issuing the stopgap compilation Bona Drag in 1990. In the meantime, the Madchester fad was sweeping British indie music and when the lackluster Kill Uncle was finally released in 1991, it only magnified the disappointment. U.K. reviewers took Morrissey to task, suggesting that the record marked the end of his glory days and that he would never be able to match the songs he'd written in tandem with Marr. A misperceived flirtation with British nationalism (not helped by a couple of seemingly racial caricatures in recent songs) tarnished his image even more in the U.K. press during 1992, this coming amid even more frequent reports of feuds with his managers, business associates, and ex-bandmates. All the controversy overshadowed the fact that 1992's Mick Ronson-produced Your Arsenal was a smashing return to form; Morrissey used his new guitar tandem of Alain Whyte (who co-wrote much of the material) and Boz Boorer (formerly of rockabilly revivalists the Polecats) to full advantage in crafting a crunchy, glammed-up record. It easily ranked as the hardest-rocking of his career, or at least, that was overshadowed in England; over in the U.S., tickets for his upcoming tour were selling like hotcakes and he managed to sell out L.A.'s Hollywood Bowl even faster than the Beatles had.His confidence renewed by his American success (to the point where he permanently moved to Los Angeles ), Morrissey delivered an equally strong follow-up in 1994's calmer Vauxhall and I, which even got him his first Top 50 singles-chart entry in the U.S. with the MTV-supported "The More You Ignore Me, the Closer I Get." A hit-and-miss compilation, The World of Morrissey, followed in 1995, after which he switched labels (from Sire to RCA) for the first time since the Smiths' debut album. Also issued in 1995 was the prog rock-informed Southpaw Grammar which confounded many and perhaps prevented him from expanding his American audience past a now-sizable group of longtime listeners. In 1996, he moved to another new label, this time Island, and released Maladjusted the following year. It failed to sell well outside of his most fanatical followers and his relationship with Island ended in 1998. In the years that followed, Morrissey remained a massively popular touring attraction on the strength of his singular identity, despite the fact that he had yet to land another record deal. ~ Steve Huey, All Music Guide

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Heroes:

WHY MORRISSEY MATTERS. By Rachel Elder 05.03.04 The bouncers loomed in front of the packed stadium, guarding the stage like sentinels, but like the thousands of fans behind me, I pushed my way to the front, determined make the pilgrimage to get onstage with Morrissey. I was determined, I wanted to touch my hero.And at the arc of the bridge of the "November Spawned a Monster," when the song hits that little quiet lull and the crowd began to scream, I had my chance. I motioned to the tall fan behind me, who promptly tossed my 100-pound body toward the stage in one motion, towards Morrissey. Towards my hero. I was close and getting closer. The crowd ushered me toward him. I stretched out my right hand. And there he was.Through squinted eyes, I saw Morrissey's hand. He stretched to reach me, leaning way out over the edge of the stage, trying as hard to reach me as I was to reach him. And then for a moment, we connected. I caught his hand, which immediately felt completely cool and dry and soft -- like my Grandfather's hand -- a shock, because in the middle of a performance under bright lights in front of a screaming mob, you'd expect sweaty palms. But no.There I was, holding Morrissey's perfect hand, faced scrunched up, afraid to see him look directly at me -- but he was -- and not only was he looking at me, he was actually mimicking me, aping my frightened squint -- but with a smile on his face. He blinked. I blinked. I furrowed my brows. He furrowed his. Then he smiled again.And then it was over before it almost even began -- a bouncer dragged me into a pit under the stage and led me way back to the back of the venue again. The encounter left me high and shaking. Lost in the moment, I did the post-orgy-sexy-stagger-down the hallway thing Madonna did at the very end of the "Justify My Love" video.That night was just like any other night -- it wasn't some special tour -- it was just another Morrissey show, yet it had the same weight as if it were the first show since the breakup of the Smiths. Yes, I'm another one of those crazed Morrissey fans. But when Morrissey is concerned, even born cynics can't hold back their screams of, "He touched me! He *touched* me!"And with reactions like that, it's clear why Morrissey matters.***After seven years, Morrissey is touring in support of a new record, "You Are The Quarry," due out May 18. And tonight, he will return to New York City for five sold out nights at Harlem's World Famous Apollo Theatre, where the haunting echoes of "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" will remind the world how important Morrissey is. Already, his face has made a triumphant return to magazine covers, but is Morrissey really making a comeback? In the World of Morrissey, the fact that he is "back" just reminds us that he was in fact, never gone.For more than 30 years, Morrissey has existed outside of the stereotypical confines of the pop world. While he's never been as famous as his peers, he's been able to stay "cool" and "keep it real" as it were, because he exists on the periphery of alternative music. Morrissey may be many things to many people -- but he's no sellout. His star has dimmed, but never fallen. He never reinvented himself for a new generation, like Duran Duran tried to do. He never made a desperate grab to reform his old band, like Johnny Rotten and the Sex Pistols did. He never sullied his legacy with embarrassing crap, the way Bob Dylan's doing with those Victoria Secret commercials.In a way, this is what gives him his cult status -- this is why he is still considered a pop hero to many. The man is simply not affected by his private persona the way others are. Yes, his private life is a complex mystery full of loose threads -- he's sexual, but never come out and declared his sexuality -- he's vegan, but wears leather occasionally.Ultimately, Morrissey's never had to reinvent, fully explain or embarrass himself for the sake of furthering his career, because he didn't lose his mind when he became an icon. Look at Madonna. Her career and image are driven by her private life, the Kabbalah, her marriage to Guy Ritchie and subsequent "film career," those children's books ...Morrissey never reinvents himself in this manner. He's never had to because "Morrissey" is eternal. "Morrissey" matters because "Morrissey" the man, the icon, the cult hero, are not confused. He's taken numerous breaks from recording, touring, interviews -- has been rumored to be "retired" before, but he never left. His influence is everywhere, even if he isn't.***When heavy metal went through one of its many revivals, many a hipster went through the unironic "metal was *always* cool, and I *always* liked it" phase. But ask these same people now, and they'll probably say they were *always* into Morrissey because he's suddenly okay to like again. It wasn't always so -- when Morrissey had no new records out, being a fan was a constant source of ridicule.And so liking him is more than just some badge of honor -- it's deeper, it's in the blood. This is why Morrissey's true blue fans won't care if "You Are The Quarry" sucks. The advance copy of the record sounds lovely, but the fact there is a record out is more important than the record itself. Morrissey's fans are both his worst critics and the most loyal monsters you'll ever encounter -- and it's feeding time again.In the past, he's gotten away with minor transgressions, like pushing little EP's out; and even major ones, like his last record, "Maladjusted." And while the rest of the world may not like him, his most devoted fans will complain the loudest, further cultivating their eerie love/hate relationships with the man.Consider the case of Zach, who got up on stage during Morrissey's 1999 "Oye Esteban" tour. As the super fan zoned in on the stage, floating atop the crowd, Morrissey recognized him as a follower -- perhaps from a recent signing or maybe a fan letter -- pointed him out and said "Hellooo ... Zach" over the house mic. And Zach went absolutely nuts. Later, during the same tour, Zach got up onstage again, but somehow failed to get Morrissey's attention, no matter how hard he waved and screamed. After the show, Zach was *devastated* by this and drunkenly cursed Morrissey up and down for ignoring him. A few weeks later, Zach caught a glimpse of Morrissey during a record signing at a Tower Records and pounded his fists on the glass windows, screaming "Say my name! Say my name!" until Morrissey wearily acknowledged him.A seven year layoff is nothing. Morrissey couldn't get rid of his fans, even if he wanted to.***For all their bloodthirsty similarities, Morrissey fans are oddly diverse. Morrissey's Latino fan-base is a good, oft-sited example. But sublimated people, or minorities, or marginalized races don't identify with Morrissey because he's different. The reason they love and identify with Morrissey is no different than the reason hundreds of white, hetero fans will faint at the mere sight of him: Morrissey is himself, uncompromisingly so.Morrissey's lyrics directly speak to the listener from a place where Morrissey, the man, appears to feel completely alienated and alone in the world. It is this "disalienated Morrissey vortex" that makes his seem so real. Even when the backdrop is a crafty pop hook, or those "cheerful" Johnny Marr riffs, Morrissey is singing from the eye of an emotional hurricane, often sounding happy when he's sad. His lyrics and musical style don't merge seamlessly into some artificial "mood," and the contradiction makes his words feel more genuine.Morrissey is able to represent multiple oppressions and identities. This is why the alienated like him so much. His life is contradictory, complex and complicated -- just like his fans. Morrissey is a gay man who has claimed to be celibate. He's a working class lad who became a recording star. He's an uneducated man who reads Oscar Wilde and writes songs that name check Keats and Yeats. He's a white Brit with a massive Latino following.He's obviously operating with his own set of rules.Some are surprised by the new Morrissey -- the aging, gentleman crooner who lives in Los Angles and is tan and seems happy -- but they shouldn't be, because he's still the same man, for better or worse. His skin may be bronze and his demeanor more upbeat, but that has nothing to do with "Morrissey the man" or "Morrissey the icon." Morrissey's fans will buy his new album and what they will be getting a Morrissey record.No, not every Morrissey album has been great, but "You Are The Quarry" fits right in to his extremely consistent canon. Quarry is not an "experimental" album. It doesn't have any weird guest stars, like Public Enemy. It doesn't have a cover of "Boys of Summer." There are no DJ remixes, it's not "electronic" and there are no acapella rap sections. It's Morrissey being Morrissey, seven years after his last record.***If you think about pop music, very little is "authentic." Million-dollar marketing budgets, music videos and teams of songwriters tend to distort the process. Other pop artists try to be real, but Morrissey is effortlessly so. In lyrics, he rips right through the very pretentious assholes who love him so much. ("If you're wondering why / All the love that you long for eludes you / And people are rude and cruel to you / I'll tell you why / You just haven't earned it yet, baby.") In a way, Morrissey is the ultimate outsider, giving him credibility few can claim.Since the birth of MTV in 1981, irony has mistakenly been attached to many kinds of pop music, becoming the defining trait of contemporary pop culture. Morrissey has been the same singer in the 1980s and 1990s, clashing against the prevailing pop mood, but avoiding becoming a postmodern parody by being completely fucking direct. From the beginning, Morrissey has been emotionally naked, and has never made any attempt to disguise that fact. He once said, "I was ill, and I said I was ill, and no one in pop music had ever done that before."Few have done it so well since.The very "essence" of Morrissey is the indeterminacy of his position. He says things bluntly, so bluntly that his motives are always being questioned. "Is he serious? Is he being funny? Is he gay?" they'll ask. But Morrissey couldn't be more straightforward. His position isn't ironic at all. His cleverness is clever. His sadness is sad. His lyrics bring you back to those horrible moments, distilling visceral and painful feelings with just a phrase, be it "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want" or "The More You Ignore Me, the Closer I Get."And he's not some one-trick pony -- Morrissey's songs confront more than just sadness. He has numerous "revenge" songs in his canon and no line in pop music can match the angry declaration from the Smiths' "How Soon Is Now?" -- "You shut your mouth! How can you say I go about things the wrong way?"Whether you love him or not, his music is a direct, uncompromising message to the world and to his fans. And this week, in the legendary Apollo Theater, as fans make their cathartic pilgrimage to the front of the stage to see Morrissey, he will stand as a direct reminder of why he matters so much.