Morrissey
Morrissey, Alexandra Palace, London, 01-05-06
01/05/06 19:27 Filed in: Gigs
Sometimes an album calls to you, demanding you buy it. You just know somehow it will have something life changing about it. I haven’t felt this way about an album since Heathen. And Ringleader of the Tormentors hasn’t been out of my CD player for the last two weeks - somewhat helpfully since half of last nights 18 song set list was culled from the album. The studio arrangements lend themselves to live performance and this current band, with older members and new, lends itself perfectly. I wouldn’t have cared if he’d walked on and performed the new record in entirety and not a Smiths tune. Not that I don’t love The Smiths but I’m not one of those people who harps on about old classic records or shouts out song titles or gets disappointed if certain songs aren’t played.
Somewhat surreally, Kristeen Young kicked off the evening’s entertainment. We had found a great spot on the barrier on the left with a superb view the venue was still light inside due to the glass roof and it wasn’t even half full when she came on at 7.15. The sound was superb and you could hear every word. It suddenly dawned on me that I had probably never heard KY get to use either a proper drum kit or a top of the line sound system. Her voice soared through the venue and after a few songs the modest applause grew. I’ve never been sure of those songs where her voice has a slight Yoko tinge to it, its probably not the best way to introduce yourself to several thousand potential new fans. Being behind a keyboard allows a certain amount of hiding and covers up some nervousness I thought KY was really at her best when she came out from behind the keyboard and took it to the crowd a little more. It was a strange feeling knowing the person on stage, wanting her to do well and wishing everyone would be responsive and overall I thought it went very well.
Second support act, Scottish band Sons and Daughters had a couple of interesting moments but were on the whole rather dull. If I never heard a band that sound like Joy Division again it would be too soon.
In between the bands this classical music had been playing. At first the novelty was interesting but then the Chopin started to grate. The oddest choice of warm up music since I went to see James Brown and he used his own records but at least that got the crowd going. I assume the Stretford lad wanted to create a rarefied atmosphere given the sedate Italian themes everywhere from the drum riser to the crew passes. Before he came on a different tape started with some strange old show tunes, including a folky song, a famous song in Australia, about a pub with no beer.
The lights vanished, the crowd roared and the intro tape started. At this point of the review I realised I had to take a look at the set list. I dropped by a site, Morrissey Solo, and was overcome by the whinging and bitching. They make this site look like amateurs. I guess that the bar has been raised so high by Morrissey in the past that anything below perfection is something to complain about. They never stop complaints about the sound (which was flawless), lack of screens (fair point), set list (perfect, for me anyway) and huge resentment of newer fans.
Having peeked at several set lists I pretty much knew what was coming he’s playing almost every night so the sets are under 20 songs, just under 90 mins. I was ready for that. First of the Gang to Die, Still Ill and You Have Killed Me kicked off the show the latter with a nice and cheeky Tony Visconti is me lyric.
We were already out of breath; he was prowling the stage, snapping his mic lead like a circus ringmaster trying to control lions. All the moves were there. I was starting to reach a higher state, how could I have not seen him live all these years? The shows I’ve been missing…
The set was very Ringleader heavy which suited me just fine. New single The Youngest was the Most Loved and an even newer B-side called Ganglord were up next the new songs were very well received on the whole I thought. He stalked from side to side of the stage and must have noticed who knew the words to the new stuff since he came over and sang rather directly at us, in that way Bowie does, making you feel like he’s singing to you. More new songs, a six song burst of them To Me You Are a Work of Art (at this point a security guard came over and asked what song it was and then offered to give us his setlist after the show.), then At Last I am Born and On The Streets I Ran. I love these songs on the album but live they take on another personality. He slipped in the sweet Let Me Kiss You from Quarry in between more Ringleaders - these songs are huge, the band make it sound like they’re each playing two instruments and in the case of Far Off Places they take on an almost Zeppelin-esque power.
After Still Ill, from the first Smiths album, I wasn’t sure if there’d be any other Smiths tunes though I did have my suspicions after keeping my eye on the last few setlists. Even though I wouldn’t have been disappointed one jot to not hear a single Smiths song it was really quite lovely to hear Girlfriend in a Coma next. But then came the show highlight.
I knew it would be this way. I knew that Life is a Pigsty would blow me off my feet. It’s my current favourite track off Ringleader. The version of it last night was indescribable. I don’t mean to be flippant but it was like one of those higher moments, a rapture akin to hearing Station to Station live. With timpani and Boz on water filled glasses and Morrissey’s perfect voice every word wrapped around me as every smash of the cymbals lifted me off the ground. Music so rarely provides those divine moments that when it comes along you know it, you can feel it. After that I needed a break and it came in the form of one of the only songs I wasn’t familiar with, Trouble Loves Me from Maladjusted. It was sung with such passion and heart, lovely song. A couple more cracking new tracks followed, again taking on vibrant new life when played live. And then the opening chord from How Soon is Now? Rang out. He has been playing this but Id forgotten about it. I never thought I would hear that song live. There’s a hell of a lot of Smiths songs out there, dozens of classics but this one was a good choice. A communal experience, the crowd lifted the song higher. Leah and I were of course beside ourselves at this point. And then off his shirt came and it was thrown to the crowd and then it was over. Exhausted and breathless we just looked at each other, the gig had flown by in what seemed like minutes. He ran back on to do Irish Blood, English Heart and then he was gone. I’ve seen some charismatic performers in my time, ones who hold the attention of everyone in the room but Morrissey is on another level. Still buzzing we gratefully took the abbreviated set list from the kind bouncer and strolled, with big grins on our faces, out of the venue. Alexandra Palace is high up on a hill, you can see much of London from the grassy verges next to the buildings. We sat and had a joint, peacefully, happily, with smiles on our faces and our ears ringing. It was a perfect night ending just like wed planned. Before we went to get the bus we were sitting on the grass, it was quiet all around. A woman appeared from nowhere she came from behind us and leapt joyfully around the hill with her arms raised in joy, screaming about her love for Morrissey. She got to the bottom and turned around and we raised our arms too, our cheers were taken away on the breeze. We exchanged happy grins, there it was, the effect that he has on people. I’ve had my epiphany. I wonder how much Palladium tickets are on Ebay.
First Of The Gang To Die
Still Ill
You Have Killed Me
The Youngest Was The Most Loved
Gang Lord
To Me You Are A Work Of Art
At Last I Am Born
On The Streets I Ran
Let Me Kiss You
I Will See You In Far Off Places
Girlfriend In A Coma
Life Is A Pigsty
Trouble Loves Me (Intro: Maybe Its Because I’m A Londoner)
In The Future When Alls Well
I Just Want To See The Boy Happy
How Soon Is Now?
Encore: Irish Blood, English Heart
...
Morrissey, Cheltenham Town Hall, 24-05-06
24/05/06 19:21 Filed in: Gigs
You know it's a good gig when you haven't yet regained full use of your right arm. I'm a seasoned gig goer and, without doubt, that was the most violent pit I've ever been in. You could lift your feet off the ground and remain unmoved.
Of course it was my own fault, choosing to queue for a couple of hours so I could be front and centre. I ended up in the worst spot, for being crushed, in the venue: one person back from the barrier. Being on the barrier is alright, you get pushed but nothing is pushing back and you have something to grab onto. One person back is the most precarious place to be. I had travelled from London, all afternoon, up to posh Cheltenham. I went so far west I almost ended up in Wales.
Those already queuing were friendly and welcoming, which for some reason I was surprised about. People swore they'd heard him soundcheck Panic. Once we got in we all realised this venue was in effect a ballroom! Tiny. I ended up behind two really nice Americans who had travelled over for a series of gigs.
Kristeen Young was magnificent: her soaring voice filled the hall and bounced off the walls. The audience response was great, she must be growing on everyone.
The lights dimmed, the mirror ball spun, the music started, the roar lifted the roof. And there he was, looking slimmer than I remembered from Ally Pally the other week. Shirt tied in the centre, he took his bow with the boys. Setlist has been pretty much the same in all the gigs - but hearing Anybody's Hero for the first time was lovely. Still Ill always a highlight but really the revelation has been how well the Ringleader material hangs together. He performed most tracks off the album and they were greeted with the same reverance as older songs. He seemed really pleased about that. In fact being at the front means you get to see so much more, the little smiles and winks and cheeky faces being pulled. How playful he is with everyone, spending lots of time reaching out to the front rows.
Of course at a gig there's always one dickhead (a guy shouting 'Billy Bremner' over and over who provided a running commentary of the songs he didn't like as much). Do these guys come with the venue or what? He hadn't queued and appeared from nowhere, pushing in front of some sweet girls in their late teens. The kind of person who has a great time at the expense of everyone else. It's disappointing that Moz attracts such boorish oafs but that guy will get his in the end.
About the shirt thing. I never thought I'd say this but I wish he'd stop throwing shirts into the crowd. I appreciate the theatre of it, very much. But it's getting quite dangerous. Most fans purposely avoid the shirt being thrown. Once it came over a dozen big blokes reached for it, all got a piece and would not let go. This went on for several songs. Tell me... why would someone rather fight over a shirt than watch the man on stage sing? Clearly Moz could see what was going on and someone shouted out for him to throw his, new and clean, shirt in. Loads of us shouted to not throw anything else! Of course he replied, 'Take my shirt off? That's a little forward of you! I don't think I can, I'm not wearing anything under here!' Cue screams. It seemed to diffuse the situation but then a proper fight broke out between two guys holding the shirt and Arturo got up there and shouted at people to pack it in. Is it worth it? I mean really, for a piece of cloth. Pathetic.
Being so close to him was just wonderful. I never thought I'd get that close. It was a proper mosh pit in there I must say. Several people decided to get over the barrier to touch him during Irish Blood at the end. Of course, like everyone else at the front, I ended up getting kicked in the head a few times. Totally worth it!
Moz seems to enjoy the violence almost, which isn't surprising if you think about it. That edge everyone's on creates such an incredible atmosphere. He was in a great mood and the band played hard and loud; Pigsty as ever was the highlight. Dear God remains the only song not played from Ringleader, too saucy to play? ;)
...
Of course it was my own fault, choosing to queue for a couple of hours so I could be front and centre. I ended up in the worst spot, for being crushed, in the venue: one person back from the barrier. Being on the barrier is alright, you get pushed but nothing is pushing back and you have something to grab onto. One person back is the most precarious place to be. I had travelled from London, all afternoon, up to posh Cheltenham. I went so far west I almost ended up in Wales.
Those already queuing were friendly and welcoming, which for some reason I was surprised about. People swore they'd heard him soundcheck Panic. Once we got in we all realised this venue was in effect a ballroom! Tiny. I ended up behind two really nice Americans who had travelled over for a series of gigs.
Kristeen Young was magnificent: her soaring voice filled the hall and bounced off the walls. The audience response was great, she must be growing on everyone.
The lights dimmed, the mirror ball spun, the music started, the roar lifted the roof. And there he was, looking slimmer than I remembered from Ally Pally the other week. Shirt tied in the centre, he took his bow with the boys. Setlist has been pretty much the same in all the gigs - but hearing Anybody's Hero for the first time was lovely. Still Ill always a highlight but really the revelation has been how well the Ringleader material hangs together. He performed most tracks off the album and they were greeted with the same reverance as older songs. He seemed really pleased about that. In fact being at the front means you get to see so much more, the little smiles and winks and cheeky faces being pulled. How playful he is with everyone, spending lots of time reaching out to the front rows.
Of course at a gig there's always one dickhead (a guy shouting 'Billy Bremner' over and over who provided a running commentary of the songs he didn't like as much). Do these guys come with the venue or what? He hadn't queued and appeared from nowhere, pushing in front of some sweet girls in their late teens. The kind of person who has a great time at the expense of everyone else. It's disappointing that Moz attracts such boorish oafs but that guy will get his in the end.
About the shirt thing. I never thought I'd say this but I wish he'd stop throwing shirts into the crowd. I appreciate the theatre of it, very much. But it's getting quite dangerous. Most fans purposely avoid the shirt being thrown. Once it came over a dozen big blokes reached for it, all got a piece and would not let go. This went on for several songs. Tell me... why would someone rather fight over a shirt than watch the man on stage sing? Clearly Moz could see what was going on and someone shouted out for him to throw his, new and clean, shirt in. Loads of us shouted to not throw anything else! Of course he replied, 'Take my shirt off? That's a little forward of you! I don't think I can, I'm not wearing anything under here!' Cue screams. It seemed to diffuse the situation but then a proper fight broke out between two guys holding the shirt and Arturo got up there and shouted at people to pack it in. Is it worth it? I mean really, for a piece of cloth. Pathetic.
Being so close to him was just wonderful. I never thought I'd get that close. It was a proper mosh pit in there I must say. Several people decided to get over the barrier to touch him during Irish Blood at the end. Of course, like everyone else at the front, I ended up getting kicked in the head a few times. Totally worth it!
Moz seems to enjoy the violence almost, which isn't surprising if you think about it. That edge everyone's on creates such an incredible atmosphere. He was in a great mood and the band played hard and loud; Pigsty as ever was the highlight. Dear God remains the only song not played from Ringleader, too saucy to play? ;)
...
Morrissey, The Roundhouse, Camden, London, 21-01-08
21/01/08 19:05 Filed in: Gigs
The atmosphere at a Morrissey gig is highly unusual. Working class pint-in-hand lads with open-necked shirts stand beside delicate teenagers, couples who grew up on the Smiths stand beside bull-necked, tattooed heterosexual men with tears in their eyes desperate to touch the hem of his garment. I had a little trouble getting into the venue because of my refusal to bring my passport as photo ID - I had told the Roundhouse box office this on the phone last week and offered to bring my Glastonbury ticket from last year, since it has a photo on it, and was told that would be fine. I waited patiently in the long queue at the box office as arguments raged in front of me - many had not brought any form of photo ID at all, as stipulated on the confirmation email, and were getting increasingly irate at the jobsworth attitude of the Roundhouse worker in charge.
I got to the front, showed her my 'ID'. "Sorry, can't let you in with that". With some restraint, I said I had brought the email and purchasing card and clearly, that was a photo of me. I wasn't willing to bring my passport, given that I'm travelling to America in 3 weeks. 'Not my problem'. I took a breath, 'Clearly, you've had a shitty day and I appreciate that, you've been stitched up by Seetickets and SJM [the promoter] but I'm not a tout, I paid for my ticket, I've brought photo ID, such as it is, here's my card, it's on your system, let's have a bit of common sense here'. She took the card, looked at it and let me in, after having to put my fancy purple wristband on twice because it was too tight the first time, which she did with unconcealed irritation. 'If it comes off we won't replace it'. I thanked her and moved away. That was a touch harder than I had anticipated. I milled around, making friends - I approached a cute young woman with a tattoo of his name on her forearm. She was there with her husband and had travelled from Birmingham. We regaled each other with warmly told tales. 'I'm seeing all the dates on this mini-tour', 'This is my 40th gig!'. 'I saw him in America last year', 'I haven't seen him live since I had his lyrics tattooed on me'. Yes, one of those quotes is me ;-p
So we chatted and laughed and I remembered that, sometimes, Moz fans can be excitable and charming, rather than misanthropic and dour. The venue has an outdoor terraced balcony, a stroke of genius. I went out there for a smoke and got talking to a Dutch journalist, who was in London interviewing Mary J Blige and just got a ticket that day, about Holland and music and all this while overlooking the always busy Camden roads. He had interviewed Moz too, years before, and said he was charming but shy. He told him his music had changed his life and he replied, half sheepishly, half in false modesty, that he was embarrassed by that.
As the time passed I knew I had several days of this to go so I was surprisingly relaxed. I strolled past Keane's Tom Chaplin, who is surprisingly tall. It's ironic that his music is so dull when his taste is so good - he's on the Rufus Wainwright documentary DVD I have too. At 9pm I heard the intro music and entered the hall - as on the last dates I'd seen him play, the intro film was the same. A collection of clips - Bardot, James Dean, David Johansen and Vince Taylor. The curtain dropped to reveal three identical portraits of Richard Burton as the backdrop. On the band walked, then the man himself, to roars. How Soon Is now is not a bad show opener, not bad at all.
I positioned myself on an inch high metal step in front of the mixing desk, standing just behind film critic, 50s aficionado and all round hero Mark Kermode. His quiff attracts the eye when he's on TV. At this gig he fitted in just perfectly. I'd thought I would take it easy, tap my foot, sing along a little but the occasion overcame me and I was jumping around a bit, singing at the top of my lungs. He had played two French warm-up shows in the last few days and I had studiously avoided the setlist. The first show, incidentally, was in remote picturesque town Clermont Ferrand. An odd place to have a gig, one might say. But as soon as I saw the date announced I knew why - Clermont Ferrand is twinned with Salford. It's something I remembered from signs back home saying 'Welcome to Salford - twinned with...'. I'm quite sure Clermont Ferrand is a much prettier locale than Salford! All my intentions of taking it easy on night 1 went out of the window. I should also mention that very rarely at a show have I been reduced to tears but it happened last night as he played Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself, a real beauty of a song from his best solo record, Vauxhall and I. Having never heard any Vauxhall tracks live before I couldn't possibly have been happier to hear that and Billy Budd.
New songs were aired, the best of which is All You Need is Me, and the crowd were whipped into a frenzy by my highlight, the swirling and discordant Smiths song Death of A Disco Dancer. As you'd expect, there was some heckling which I couldn't properly hear. 'Say what you want, I can take it!', he winked. His voice was flawless so I was surprised when he said he had a frog in his throat, 'and I don't mean a small French person'. A man next to me chuckled, 'Ooh, actual racism'. It was a pleasure to hear a cathartic and audacious rendition of National Front Disco - it was quite something to hear 2000 people, from all over the world, sing 'England for the English' with big grins on their faces.
I'd seen him live 6 times before - last night was a delight and to put it in perspective, he played 20 songs and I had only heard 7 of them played live before. It was surprise after surprise and even if tonight's show is exactly the same I'll be glad to hear these new (to me) songs again. In particular, a cheeky, singalong version of one of my favourite songs, The World is Full of Crashing Bores, had me grinning like a fool. I'm doing it all again tonight and tomorrow. Then with Leah on Friday and Saturday - the last show is Sunday. I don't know what condition I'll be in but I guarantee I will hammer it until I drop.
...
Morrissey, The Roundhouse, Camden, London, 22-01-08
22/01/08 19:03 Filed in: Gigs
I'm getting better at this. Before these gigs started I made a promise that I would take it easy for the first three and hammer it for the last three. I made it to the venue in good time, chatted to the people I met on Monday and met some new people. I went to the top level and perched myself on a chair overlooking Camden, through a room length glass window. It was quite a beautiful moment. At 8.45 I strolled downstairs and entered the auditorium, ready to see that intro film again. I blinked and stopped as I realised he had come on early (stage time is 9) and was half way through International Playboys, the encore from Monday. Oops. That'll teach me.
The setlist was all mixed up and, given that I was fully prepared to get exactly the same songs as Monday, I was delighted to get three songs I'd never heard live before. Everything about the gig was better than Monday - the band were even tighter, the sound was better, he was clearly in a good mood and the crowd were a great deal louder and more excited than Monday's audience.
He was much more chatty than the first night, telling us Hillary Clinton is changing her name to Billary since no-one is sure who they're voting for anyway, her or her husband! He reiterated his support for Barack Obama, something he'd been saying every night on stage in the US last year. We had a thanks to XFM and Radio 2 for playing his new single - why he's still obsessed, after all these years, with airplay is anyone's guess. The crowd on the whole is mixed but knowledgeable. He's contrary so people coming to hear This Charming Man and Heaven Knows and other 'hits' are going to find themselves disappointed. But with those who love the Smiths, those who scrambled to get a ticket for these shows, they don't want or expect famous songs, they holler their approval at obscure album tracks like Death of a Disco Dancer. With the recent Mark Ronson cover still fresh in the memory he reminded us what a brilliant song Stop Me... is when *he* plays it.
Those present are more likely to nod in appreciation at a Vauxhall and I album track than Hand in Glove - as the reactions to Billy Budd and Your Arsenal's Tomorrow proved. Even for me, who owns his entire back catalogue, there are songs known less than others. In particular the gorgeous Stretch Out and Wait (from compilations Louder than Bombs and The World Won't Listen) is becoming a real discovery of these shows since I never knew it that well before. He keeps pulling these gems out from nowhere, like The Loop, available only on little known compilation the World of Morrissey - played with an upright bass it's as rockabilly Moz as he's ever gotten, reminiscent of songs like Sing Your Life.
The setlist is a treat, all told. A nicely balanced mixture of new songs, obscure solo songs plus the odd big tune (HSIN) and rare Smiths tracks. The biggest reactions of the night actually came not for Smiths songs but the pair from You Are The Quarry. Irish Blood, English Heart in particular, despite being only three years old, has been taken to heart by fans, it's overtly political lyrics are sung with conviction, a little anger and passion which makes it the most powerful song he currently performs. Much like going to a football match, seeing Morrissey live is a primal scream of an evening. A chance to bond together with others of a like mind - this may be true of any gig but having been to my fair share of concerts in the last 20 years I can say the frenzy, the passion is most concentrated at Morrissey shows, of all the gigs I've attended. Again, like a football match, it has something of the tribal gathering about it.
My abiding memory of last night is the huge roar as he changed the lyric in Stretch Out and Wait from 'it's the eskimo blood in my veins' to 'it's the Manchester blood in my veins'. Stupid as this sounds, he makes me feel closer to home a little. A Manc who, like me, hasn't lived there for many years - yet it's something that runs deeper than most things in my blood too.
One more show tonight then a night off tomorrow. In the 8 Morrissey gigs I've attended so far I have heard almost 50 songs. I could name another 20, at least, that I'd like to hear. Some bands don't even have ten good songs. This is quite the journey, I'm loving every second of it.
...
The setlist was all mixed up and, given that I was fully prepared to get exactly the same songs as Monday, I was delighted to get three songs I'd never heard live before. Everything about the gig was better than Monday - the band were even tighter, the sound was better, he was clearly in a good mood and the crowd were a great deal louder and more excited than Monday's audience.
He was much more chatty than the first night, telling us Hillary Clinton is changing her name to Billary since no-one is sure who they're voting for anyway, her or her husband! He reiterated his support for Barack Obama, something he'd been saying every night on stage in the US last year. We had a thanks to XFM and Radio 2 for playing his new single - why he's still obsessed, after all these years, with airplay is anyone's guess. The crowd on the whole is mixed but knowledgeable. He's contrary so people coming to hear This Charming Man and Heaven Knows and other 'hits' are going to find themselves disappointed. But with those who love the Smiths, those who scrambled to get a ticket for these shows, they don't want or expect famous songs, they holler their approval at obscure album tracks like Death of a Disco Dancer. With the recent Mark Ronson cover still fresh in the memory he reminded us what a brilliant song Stop Me... is when *he* plays it.
Those present are more likely to nod in appreciation at a Vauxhall and I album track than Hand in Glove - as the reactions to Billy Budd and Your Arsenal's Tomorrow proved. Even for me, who owns his entire back catalogue, there are songs known less than others. In particular the gorgeous Stretch Out and Wait (from compilations Louder than Bombs and The World Won't Listen) is becoming a real discovery of these shows since I never knew it that well before. He keeps pulling these gems out from nowhere, like The Loop, available only on little known compilation the World of Morrissey - played with an upright bass it's as rockabilly Moz as he's ever gotten, reminiscent of songs like Sing Your Life.
The setlist is a treat, all told. A nicely balanced mixture of new songs, obscure solo songs plus the odd big tune (HSIN) and rare Smiths tracks. The biggest reactions of the night actually came not for Smiths songs but the pair from You Are The Quarry. Irish Blood, English Heart in particular, despite being only three years old, has been taken to heart by fans, it's overtly political lyrics are sung with conviction, a little anger and passion which makes it the most powerful song he currently performs. Much like going to a football match, seeing Morrissey live is a primal scream of an evening. A chance to bond together with others of a like mind - this may be true of any gig but having been to my fair share of concerts in the last 20 years I can say the frenzy, the passion is most concentrated at Morrissey shows, of all the gigs I've attended. Again, like a football match, it has something of the tribal gathering about it.
My abiding memory of last night is the huge roar as he changed the lyric in Stretch Out and Wait from 'it's the eskimo blood in my veins' to 'it's the Manchester blood in my veins'. Stupid as this sounds, he makes me feel closer to home a little. A Manc who, like me, hasn't lived there for many years - yet it's something that runs deeper than most things in my blood too.
One more show tonight then a night off tomorrow. In the 8 Morrissey gigs I've attended so far I have heard almost 50 songs. I could name another 20, at least, that I'd like to hear. Some bands don't even have ten good songs. This is quite the journey, I'm loving every second of it.
...
Morrissey, The Roundhouse, Camden, London, 23-01-08
23/01/08 19:02 Filed in: Gigs
"I'd like to begin with a quote from Mother Teresa... don't let the bastards grind you down!"
Half an hour before I had been sitting in my aunt's house laughing and chatting, I had a little time before the gig started and decided to have dinner with the family before I left. I related tales of my two gigs so far. They think I'm mad. It's a quite lovely 10-15 minute walk from the house to Chalk Farm and I arrived with minutes to spare, found a spot beside the mixing desk again and off we went. It was starting to resemble Groundhog Day in some ways. Would it be Playboys or HSIN to start? Neither. A new song and a quote not from Mother Teresa. Probably.
I wondered if I would get yet another song I'd never heard before live and as if by magic the awesome Jack the Ripper was played. Then, somewhat bizarrely, the Kristeen Young vocal part, at the start of That's How People Grow Up, was played in sample form. Yes, I'm quite sure about that. But as he started to sing, his voice went. Hoarse and cracking I feared the worst, an early end to the evening. "Want to bet my voice is gone by song six?" But he's made of sterner stuff than that and came back to Camden with the best version of Stop Me... I've yet heard. Two days without singing at this point is probably a good idea but, with great relief palpable from all present, his voice stayed strong the rest of the night with only one slightly croaky vocal near the end.
I saw a review the other day remarking on how he has been working with guitarist and bandleader Boz Boorer for four times as long as he worked with Marr. We laud his old band but in years to come may well realise that *this* band is the best he's ever had. A world away from the precise but sparse indie pop four piece he used to front, this is loud, powerful and heavy and this set of musicians could not be better - Boz, drummer Matt Walker, keyboard/guitar/accordion player Chris Pooley, magnificent lead guitarist Jesse Tobias and new bassist Solomon Walker, brother of Matt, who, to be fair, is a hot skinhead but only a limited musician, in no way an equal replacement for Gary Day. The sound these men create whips around the venue, creating a cacophony of noise like I've never heard, and there's no song they play that doesn't sound better live than it ever has before.
'This song is dedicated', he announced solemnly, 'with love, to Heath Ledger'. Life Is A Pigsty. Shortly after, for the first time at these dates, he delivered a beautiful Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want and the audience let out a collective sigh. In one sense, you know what you get with Moz. He sings, 'Don't rake up my mistakes, I know exactly what they are' and while you accept the contrary, curmudgeonly side of him you also feel great love coming at you from the stage, as this is a man who appreciates his audience like no other artist I've seen. During a small break for a technical problem a young man appeared on stage, having made it past security. This happens often at his gigs - some launch themselves at him to plant a big kiss, some kneel before him, some, once they make it up there, don't quite know what to do and their moment of indecision is all security needs to haul them off. This young man held his hand out, which was met, and kissed the hand of the Stretford Bard. A grown man, almost cowed to his knees by this nearly 50 year old singer. He means more to people than anyone outside of this could understand. The hovering danger of his voice packing up again made this the best show of the three so far. There was a lull in the middle when I lost concentration and became distracted during a new song but he got me back again in no time.
I'm tired. Yes, finally. It's much more to do with trouble sleeping than it is the gigs but I feel somewhat dazed this morning. Three gigs in three days. If I'd been getting enough sleep I'd be able to do another tonight but as it stands, I'm quite relieved I have a night off - and I'm relieved his voice gets one too, since we're only half way there. Three gigs played, 25 songs heard. It barely scratches the surface of his back catalogue. Now it's time for a rest and then a sprint to the finish line. I've seen him from the back of the venue and now the barrier calls me to the front.
(LT note: never got to the front – the very next show, his voice went and, despite attempts at comedy from Brand, Ross and Walliams, the crowd was sent home with only 3 songs played. The remaining shows were cancelled. Six gigs in seven days was a bad idea, I could have told him that!)...
Half an hour before I had been sitting in my aunt's house laughing and chatting, I had a little time before the gig started and decided to have dinner with the family before I left. I related tales of my two gigs so far. They think I'm mad. It's a quite lovely 10-15 minute walk from the house to Chalk Farm and I arrived with minutes to spare, found a spot beside the mixing desk again and off we went. It was starting to resemble Groundhog Day in some ways. Would it be Playboys or HSIN to start? Neither. A new song and a quote not from Mother Teresa. Probably.
I wondered if I would get yet another song I'd never heard before live and as if by magic the awesome Jack the Ripper was played. Then, somewhat bizarrely, the Kristeen Young vocal part, at the start of That's How People Grow Up, was played in sample form. Yes, I'm quite sure about that. But as he started to sing, his voice went. Hoarse and cracking I feared the worst, an early end to the evening. "Want to bet my voice is gone by song six?" But he's made of sterner stuff than that and came back to Camden with the best version of Stop Me... I've yet heard. Two days without singing at this point is probably a good idea but, with great relief palpable from all present, his voice stayed strong the rest of the night with only one slightly croaky vocal near the end.
I saw a review the other day remarking on how he has been working with guitarist and bandleader Boz Boorer for four times as long as he worked with Marr. We laud his old band but in years to come may well realise that *this* band is the best he's ever had. A world away from the precise but sparse indie pop four piece he used to front, this is loud, powerful and heavy and this set of musicians could not be better - Boz, drummer Matt Walker, keyboard/guitar/accordion player Chris Pooley, magnificent lead guitarist Jesse Tobias and new bassist Solomon Walker, brother of Matt, who, to be fair, is a hot skinhead but only a limited musician, in no way an equal replacement for Gary Day. The sound these men create whips around the venue, creating a cacophony of noise like I've never heard, and there's no song they play that doesn't sound better live than it ever has before.
'This song is dedicated', he announced solemnly, 'with love, to Heath Ledger'. Life Is A Pigsty. Shortly after, for the first time at these dates, he delivered a beautiful Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want and the audience let out a collective sigh. In one sense, you know what you get with Moz. He sings, 'Don't rake up my mistakes, I know exactly what they are' and while you accept the contrary, curmudgeonly side of him you also feel great love coming at you from the stage, as this is a man who appreciates his audience like no other artist I've seen. During a small break for a technical problem a young man appeared on stage, having made it past security. This happens often at his gigs - some launch themselves at him to plant a big kiss, some kneel before him, some, once they make it up there, don't quite know what to do and their moment of indecision is all security needs to haul them off. This young man held his hand out, which was met, and kissed the hand of the Stretford Bard. A grown man, almost cowed to his knees by this nearly 50 year old singer. He means more to people than anyone outside of this could understand. The hovering danger of his voice packing up again made this the best show of the three so far. There was a lull in the middle when I lost concentration and became distracted during a new song but he got me back again in no time.
I'm tired. Yes, finally. It's much more to do with trouble sleeping than it is the gigs but I feel somewhat dazed this morning. Three gigs in three days. If I'd been getting enough sleep I'd be able to do another tonight but as it stands, I'm quite relieved I have a night off - and I'm relieved his voice gets one too, since we're only half way there. Three gigs played, 25 songs heard. It barely scratches the surface of his back catalogue. Now it's time for a rest and then a sprint to the finish line. I've seen him from the back of the venue and now the barrier calls me to the front.
(LT note: never got to the front – the very next show, his voice went and, despite attempts at comedy from Brand, Ross and Walliams, the crowd was sent home with only 3 songs played. The remaining shows were cancelled. Six gigs in seven days was a bad idea, I could have told him that!)...
Morrissey/Doll & The Kicks, Cambridge Corn Exchange, Cambridge, 16-05-09
16/05/09 18:12 Filed in: Gigs
Immediately, I could see why he favours town hall sized venues, as it soon became clear that the intensity and intimacy are unmatched. There was no shortage of odd characters to talk to and time passed quickly. Support act Doll & The Kicks were surprisingly good, received well by the famously uncharitable Morrissey hardcore. Then, a selection of strange little vignettes were projected onto the stage curtain - the comical video for Sparks latest single, Lighten Up Morrissey, a trashy, vintage, New York Dolls performance, a camp, leather-clad, Vince Taylor clip and a touch of 60s Shirley Bassey. Then, the curtain fell, the muscular sailor backdrop was visible and You'll Never Walk Alone dramatically heralded the entrance of the man and his band as the crush started. Pinned to the people surrounding me there was no way at all to move as the crowd surged, albeit good-naturedly.
“Good evening Cambridge, this is your starter for ten - no conferring”. A searing opening blast of This Charming Man and Irish Blood, English Heart and a gasp for breath later, came the first raised eyebrow. "I have some disturbing news for you. You're all missing the Eurovision Song Contest. Dry those eyes." I sighed with relief as his fragile voice found itself and stayed strong and powerful for the rest of the night. Newer songs from his latest, Years of Refusal, prompted a little easing of the crush, with the punchy Black Cloud coming out particularly well, but with a setlist this varied there was little let up. From the gentle Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself to, my surprise hit of the night, obscure B-side The Loop. I was surprised the song choice was so Smiths heavy, with no less than six songs from that period. As you might imagine those songs, among them Ask and How Soon Is Now, were received with joy unconfined.
Most bands you see get up there, play the songs and, while you might enjoy it, you suspect it's not that different to any other show. With Morrissey you're confronted with dozens of unique incidents. One such was an abusive heckler, questioned until he squirmed, and then the show was stopped as bandleader Boz Boorer got in his face, throwing a few unrepeatable words in his direction. Apparently the heckler was later removed from the venue. The atmosphere was frenzied and the game of getting on stage began. I've never experienced this at other gigs as the fans with an eye on security and a foot on the barrier try to invade to hug or kiss the man himself. Given that this behaviour is encouraged it’s no surprise that one brave soul made it up there to wrap his arms around Morrissey's ample waist. Another staple of the show is the removal of a sweaty shirt, which is then thrown to the baying masses. Viewing him as a younger man, one might not have imagined that, nearing 50, he would rip his shirt off, stripper style, to reveal a positively beefy physique.
I didn't want the show to end and after the last song, First of the Gang To Die, I peeled myself off those around me and, aching all over, stumbled out of the venue, floating and glowing. That's the paradox of Morrissey. He might let you down... but he'll never let you down.
This Charming Man / Irish Blood, English Heart / Black Cloud / Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed / How Soon Is Now? / I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel? / Ask / Something Is Squeezing My Skull / When Last I Spoke To Carol / Girlfriend In A Coma / Best Friend On The Payroll / Let Me Kiss You / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself? / One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell / I Keep Mine Hidden / Sorry Doesn't Help / Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others / The Loop / I'm OK By Myself // First Of The Gang To Die
...
Morrissey/Doll & The Kicks, Troxy Ballroom, London, 18-07-09
19/07/09 18:09 Filed in: Gigs
Morrissey fans are a sour bunch. It seems to me that some of them buy tickets simply to line up and have a go. They love and hate him before they even turn up, love him during the gig then hate him again straight afterwards, if they don't get exactly quite what they want. The man himself gets up there, sweats and exhausts his sometimes-fragile voice, and all he receives back, from some, is a moan. Many are like me, there to have a good time and appreciate one of the best pop back catalogues of the last 30 years. Sometimes I think that the love of his audience is the only kind he's able to process. The worst kinds of fans are what I call the 'setlist moaners'. I have never been this kind of person, one that will attend a gig and come out disappointed that my favourite songs were not played. I might say this is descended from my first Bowie show, where he played a greatest hits setlist. From that point onwards I never had to wish I were hearing a particular song from him since I had heard the 'famous' ones. And that seems to have informed my gig-going habits ever since. I can be disappointed with many aspects of shows I see but not the set list. yet, this seems to be the main, often ruinous issue with the hardcore fans, i.e. those attending more than a few shows. Are they suggesting he changes the set list to accommodate those who obsessively attend multiple shows? Admittedly, on paper the setlist is not strong. Not nearly as good as the one I was seeing at the Roundhouse 18 months ago, which contained Death of a Disco Dancer, International Playboys and more. But who cares really? 25 years of recorded music, 4 Smiths albums and a couple of compilations, 10 solo albums and countless gigs. He knows what he is doing, live. If you don't have a great time it's your own fault.
So, that mini-rant at my fellow fans over, onto the show. The Troxy is one of the more bizarre venues I've been to. A 1920s Art Deco ballroom, carpeted, with many different sections separated by curled stairways and barriers, it felt like being in a venue you didn't want to drop a cup in. There was even a polite row of seats at the back of the tiny main floor. Clumsy as I am, dark as it was, I didn't see this and managed to go flying over someone's outstretched legs before the show even began. I knew I'd done myself some damage but, unwilling to sit it out at the back, I steeled myself and joined the throng. I had been describing the centre of the crowd as a moshpit to friends. This is the wrong word but there doesn't exist a word for what it's like. At the front it was so squashed one could lift legs and remain unmoved. A little further back it's more a mass of swirling, jumping, pushing, frenzied bodies.
This Charming Man had been a song that The Smiths dropped from their shows early on and he had never played it as a solo artist before this tour. As a gig opener it's hard to think of a better choice. I was pleased to then get Boy Happy, from 2005's brilliant Ringleader of the Tormentors, an album he'd been ignoring until recently. Later on, Life is a Pigsty, with its crackling thunder and lightning sound effects, received a rapturous reception, while also allowing everyone a breather. The first couple of songs were a warm up compared to what came next, as everyone bounced together, then something happened -- Irish Blood. It all kicked off. I found myself happily swept up with the crowd, as ever mostly made up of burly men. It's important to stay sharp during these sweeping movements or you can lose your footing. I ended up a good 15 yards to the right of where I started and it wasn't the last time in the evening my position would change. By the end I was almost at the front.
He couldn't resist a little dig at a favoured target. "I was walking through Piccadilly today, and I saw Michael Jackson T shirts saying the King of Pop. This name of this song is The World is Full of Crashing Bores." A smirk and an eyebrow raise, a ripple of laughter spread through the venue. His crowd knows him. And those there to hear Smiths songs, of which there were no less than six, were as delighted as those of us who are more fans of his solo material. After all the moaning, the set list, I feel, has good balance until the later stages. There are four tracks from You Are The Quarry, his so called comeback record, but the six choices from Years of Refusal should be spread better. With half of these Refusal tracks at the end of the show there's no doubt the flow and energy levels do suffer. But these are minor quibbles. You very much feel you are witnessing one of the last great, touring, English pop icons. A man who gives everything he can to his audience. The show is all about him and us; what goes on outside that bubble is irrelevant. He is a million miles away from the performers who might have the songs but barely make eye contact with the audience. He's played arenas and tiny clubs, seeming to prefer the latter despite his lifelong need for appreciation he can never get and his passion for counting sales - as if this bears some relationship to his value as an artist and place in history. He should stop worrying about such things; his legacy is assured.
As his shirt flew into the air just above my head as the First of the Gang encore came to its noisy end, I knew by now what to do -- move back, and fast. In front of me a snarling group, egged on by Morrissey, who has always been attracted to brutal violence (as long as animals aren't involved), jumped for it. A domino effect took hold and the entire middle of the audience fell to the floor. Some people helped each other up, as the rest started fights over the shirt, then security waded in and noses were bloodied. You know you've had a proper night when you've seen a few fights and you go to bed with a bandaged knee.
This Charming Man / I Just Want To See The Boy Happy / Black Cloud / How Soon Is Now? / Irish Blood, English Heart / Ask / I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris / How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel? / You Just Haven't Earned It Yet, Baby / The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores / Girlfriend In A Coma / One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell / Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself / Life Is A Pigsty / Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want / When Last I Spoke To Carol / Sorry Doesn't Help / The Loop / I'm OK By Myself // First Of The Gang To Die