MORRISSEY – YEARS OF REFUSAL (DECCA/POLYDOR)
Despite some kind of apparent indie conspiracy still working against him, the rejuvenated and revitalised (vital) 21st century model of Morrissey is truly a magnificent thing to behold. Now more resembling landlord at the Queen Vic, as opposed to speccy twatty geek of old, there is a real element/air of growing old with disgrace as a real snide and bitter tone remains to his musical output even if his backing hasn’t grown or matured with him. This record is the ultimate in defiance from the snide Stephen Fry of music.
It must be tough entering being a Smiths fan for the 25th year knowing that in the back of your head (and maybe in the forefront) the loser victim mentality of his actions and words remain something of an influence on your fabric and being. For this, rightly or wrongly, it is good (maybe essential) to gain the occasional nod of acceptance and loyalty.
This music remains perfect for anyone male and bitter looking to indulge in sarcastic defiance, an act probably immature that one that not to bother a care. He isn’t the tortured soul, it is his audience that are the tortured ones. As if Morrissey needs some fucking blogger telling him what he thinks about his new record.
Years Of Refusal kicks off with a bang as he wastes no time in posturing his lack of concern with “Something Is Squeezing My Skull.” Within the song come a number of self analysing questions that sound like echoes of words written by negative scribes to whom he later responds with “well you drop dead.”
The tribal drums of “Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed” give a real marching tone to proceedings as his words sting with “life is nothing much to lose, its just so lonely here without you.” In a questioning fashion he appears to reacting to mistrust with a vengeance lacking in so many.
By the time he is “Throwing My Arms Around Paris” it is becoming evident that Morrissey is feeling as lonely as his listeners. Once more it feels like he is acting out of defiance, trying to convince himself as much as anyone elsewhere. Here is a person that looks to reject before he gets rejected.
An entertaining air of arrogance is attached to “All You Need Is Me” aimed directly at all those naysayers that have criticised his actions and words in recent. These words could almost be aimed directly at my friend who liked to refer to him as the “Racist vegan.” Its all about wrong adoration. He knows he sells papers with what he says.
Likewise here is someone who very much knows his audience, not least for the nod to the Mexican fans on “When Last I Spoke To Carol”, which is kind of ironic to me considering that one of the last times I spoke to my friend Carol was at his Roundhouse show a year or so ago.
For some reason “That’s How People Grow Up” suddenly makes sense placed in this collection. Whereas previously it looked lost as a cash in extra track on his most recent hits compilation placed against the tone of the rest of this record it fits right in with the nonchalant look of revenge.
It is genuinely impressive how this record holds up and remains strong until the climax as “Sorry Doesn’t Help” endeavours to put things into context before “I’m OK By Myself” serves to send out a message of self satisfaction primed to be picked up and adopted by any lonely heart able to accept.
For me this record came perfectly times, arriving just as my heart lay in its current state of tatters. Basically the words of this record helped to put things into perspective (too much fucking perspective) as I found myself able to crawl out of moping and into anger. I’m better than that.
As the daft racist accusations now lend the music a new kind of edge that it quite possibly does not deserve in the current musical climate come the end of 2009 this will be an easy contender for album of the year
Thesaurus moment: secure.
Morrissey
Decca
Polydor
Despite some kind of apparent indie conspiracy still working against him, the rejuvenated and revitalised (vital) 21st century model of Morrissey is truly a magnificent thing to behold. Now more resembling landlord at the Queen Vic, as opposed to speccy twatty geek of old, there is a real element/air of growing old with disgrace as a real snide and bitter tone remains to his musical output even if his backing hasn’t grown or matured with him. This record is the ultimate in defiance from the snide Stephen Fry of music.
It must be tough entering being a Smiths fan for the 25th year knowing that in the back of your head (and maybe in the forefront) the loser victim mentality of his actions and words remain something of an influence on your fabric and being. For this, rightly or wrongly, it is good (maybe essential) to gain the occasional nod of acceptance and loyalty.
This music remains perfect for anyone male and bitter looking to indulge in sarcastic defiance, an act probably immature that one that not to bother a care. He isn’t the tortured soul, it is his audience that are the tortured ones. As if Morrissey needs some fucking blogger telling him what he thinks about his new record.
Years Of Refusal kicks off with a bang as he wastes no time in posturing his lack of concern with “Something Is Squeezing My Skull.” Within the song come a number of self analysing questions that sound like echoes of words written by negative scribes to whom he later responds with “well you drop dead.”
The tribal drums of “Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed” give a real marching tone to proceedings as his words sting with “life is nothing much to lose, its just so lonely here without you.” In a questioning fashion he appears to reacting to mistrust with a vengeance lacking in so many.
By the time he is “Throwing My Arms Around Paris” it is becoming evident that Morrissey is feeling as lonely as his listeners. Once more it feels like he is acting out of defiance, trying to convince himself as much as anyone elsewhere. Here is a person that looks to reject before he gets rejected.
An entertaining air of arrogance is attached to “All You Need Is Me” aimed directly at all those naysayers that have criticised his actions and words in recent. These words could almost be aimed directly at my friend who liked to refer to him as the “Racist vegan.” Its all about wrong adoration. He knows he sells papers with what he says.
Likewise here is someone who very much knows his audience, not least for the nod to the Mexican fans on “When Last I Spoke To Carol”, which is kind of ironic to me considering that one of the last times I spoke to my friend Carol was at his Roundhouse show a year or so ago.
For some reason “That’s How People Grow Up” suddenly makes sense placed in this collection. Whereas previously it looked lost as a cash in extra track on his most recent hits compilation placed against the tone of the rest of this record it fits right in with the nonchalant look of revenge.
It is genuinely impressive how this record holds up and remains strong until the climax as “Sorry Doesn’t Help” endeavours to put things into context before “I’m OK By Myself” serves to send out a message of self satisfaction primed to be picked up and adopted by any lonely heart able to accept.
For me this record came perfectly times, arriving just as my heart lay in its current state of tatters. Basically the words of this record helped to put things into perspective (too much fucking perspective) as I found myself able to crawl out of moping and into anger. I’m better than that.
As the daft racist accusations now lend the music a new kind of edge that it quite possibly does not deserve in the current musical climate come the end of 2009 this will be an easy contender for album of the year
Thesaurus moment: secure.
Morrissey
Decca
Polydor
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