Unite And Take Over!

Don't tear your Morrissey posters off the wall yet! More than a year after the release of his latest compilation album, My Early Burglary Years, Morrissey returns to the stage in what may be construed as a last ditch effort to reaffirm (or perhaps reclaim) his place in the post-modern pantheon of rock 'n' roll icons. Whether he succeeds or not only time will tell. It is safe to say, however, that he has succeeded in reclaiming the hearts and minds of those fans who had pulled up anchor and drifted away
somewhere between Southpaw Grammar and his latest album Maladjusted. Sadly, the disappointing sales of the latter, released in the fall of 1997, could not have come at a worse time for Morrissey. In November of '98 (November did indeed "spawn a monster") he lost a $1.7 million judgment to ex-Smiths drummer Mike Joyce for unpaid royalties, prompting the presiding judge to castigate Morrissey as "devious, truculent and unreliable." And it was later revealed that he suffers from, and has been hospitalized for, acute clinical depression. Talk about an uphill fight!! The aptly titled Maladjusted, a jangly celebration of defeat, had been unjustly ignored by press and radio alike. The reason for the publicity blackout is anyone's guess, but if this release is flawed in any way, it's only that several of its b-sides manage to eclipse the smooth melodicism of some of the album tracks. Otherwise it's just the sort of highly polished sentimental suffering we've come to love and expect from the prima donna of mope rock.

Commercial limbo aside - the troubadour of treacle is back! So hold onto your gladiola there, and allow him to make the argument as to why his face still belongs tacked to your wall, his albums still belong in your collection, and his songs still belong swirling around your head.

To the delight and delirium of the audience, Morrissey took the stage and confidently took over. But as the encore, "Shoplifters of The World Unite," kicked into full swing, the fans took over and, well, the Moz, he took off. The incident was nothing new to Morrissey veterans, who are all too familiar with the combustible combo of his fan's ardor and his own delicacy. The tradition of adulation and sudden flight has been well established since the very beginning of his post-Smiths solo career, and as the set passed its halfway point, a few butterflies began to break free from the cocoon in front of the stage. As if by natural instinct, they flew to the crooner and desperately fluttered their wings in his face - hoping for even the slightest of acknowledgements. But as the sublime and bittersweet set closed with the dying strains of "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me," the Moz and band vacated the stage and the butterflies all knew that they had one last chance to reach their favorite flower - until the next time at least. So, when Morrissey returned to perform the encore (and there is rarely more than one Morrissey encore), everybody wanted to be that "somebody" from last night's dream. Thus, the sudden plague of flap-happy bugs and the subsequent fleeing of the scene by one overwhelmed Morrissey. It's practically choreographed - a beautiful, blurry ballet of affection.

Affection reserved, amazingly, for an artist who, at the time of the show at least, was without a recording contract. Due to the weak demand for Maladjusted, and the subsequent defeat in court, the Moz came to us, in a manner of speaking, broken and homeless. You'd never know it though, judging from the response that his Oye Esteban 2000 Tour received. Shows sold-out so quickly that they added dates in a number of major cities. And this evening's affair was no exception, which prompted Morrissey to thank the fans for their support before launching into an adrenalized "November Spawned A Monster." Surveying the audience, a pleased Morrissey declared, "We heard this night sold out very quickly, which is very encouraging and
means a lot to us because, you know, people say horrible things about me. So I can just say THANK YOU!" No "thank you" was needed though. We should all be so fortunate to see our favorite musical artists perform without the burden of a new or forthcoming album to promote. Morrissey quite simply played the songs that he wanted to play - an eclectic collection of seventeen numbers from his almost twenty year career. He included a pose-heavy "Ouija Board, Ouija Board," a partially acoustic "Now My Heart Is Full," an incendiary "Hairdresser On Fire," a bongo-driven "Boxers," and a wispy take on the recent (and tragically under-heard) b-side "Lost." The Moz even managed to pepper the set with five (that's right, five) selections from the timeless Smiths back catalog. Joining "Shoplifters" and "Last Night I Dreamt" on the set list were "Half A Person," an anthemic take on "Meat Is Murder" and "Is It Really So Strange?" Of course we forgave him when he made his escape two-thirds of the way through "Shoplifters of the World Unite." Some of the younger fans and recent converts were understandably confused, but this is a community and, dutifully, those of us who have been here before explained the strange mysteries of the ballet to those who haven't. The songs, of course, need no explaining. We were all there to sing along (some with our mouths, some with our hearts) and to come together in the knowledge of what it is to be an outsider, whether it was for one lonely
moment or one lonely lifetime. From the girl in the black dress and black fingernails to the guy who rushed straight from work in pleated pants and striped tie, we all share the common experience of finding a voice that explained us when we couldn't explain ourselves. Is it really so strange? Of course not.