California Son Shines - A Review

This week, I am immeasurably excited to find myself basking in a rare pocket of silence at my place, so I thought I’d take this time to work on a bit of writing I’ve been meaning to undertake for over a month now. Let’s rewind back to May, which to me feels like about three eternities ago. On May 24^th, two days after his 60^th birthday, Morrissey released his twelfth solo studio album, California Son. An eclectic mix of songs from the 60’s and 70’s, California Son is a departure for Morrissey in that it is an entire album of covers, ranging from protest songs to love ballads. While one of the strongest factors that draws me towards Morrissey is his own lyrics, it is riveting to get a window into his influences, as well as his unique interpretations of their music.

As a listener, it is somewhat understandable to delve into cover albums with a certain degree of skepticism, as historically, some artists have undertaken such ventures with lacklustre results. There is also the conundrum of how to make a song that is over 40 years old sound fresh and desirable to the 21^st century ear, whilst staying true to the original. Further, there is the inevitable game of comparisons by critics and fans alike: between cover songs and the artist’s original catalogue, or between the original artist’s and the cover artist’s renditions. In this sense, I think recording a covers album is a brave, bold undertaking.

During the release week of California Son, I was still dreamily chest-deep in penning my concert experiences from Morrissey’s Canadian Tour dates and Broadway Residency, so did not feel ready to begin reviewing the album. Needless to say, my ravenous ears were eager to listen as soon as the record was released, but I did not spend my free time reading professional reviews from music mags and rags, and thus, I feel rather untainted by the opinions or even language usage of others. Good.

New York Dolls videos often make the pre-show playlist
Source: YouTube

Anyone who has attended a Morrissey concert is aware that the man is a true music lover; it runs in his veins. Before each show reels a set of videos, hand picked by Moz himself, featuring some of his early influences, as well as newer artists who have captured his attention. Snippets of crackling black and white film, 70’s colour-strobed glamour and snarl, and spellbinding artistic rarities fill the screen and build anticipation, or... perhaps more accurately, an orientation into the church of Moz. Undeniably, Morrissey has incredibly good taste, and the artists he chooses typically boast unique musical flavour and compelling aesthetics. And this might just be why Morrissey was meant to do a covers album, and also why he does such a good job of it: he is a lifelong, ardent music fan.

A Review of California Son:

Ethereal chords evoke dawn’s earliest rays, which makes Morning Starship the perfect album opener. Originally recorded in 1973 by glamorous alien Jobriath, Morning Starship swells with romance, futuristic elements, and mystical lyricism. Tragically ahead of his time, high-drama and high-cheekboned Jobriath did not fit into the confining dictations of 70’s music industry execs, but he did capture the attention of a young Morrissey, who has been a fan since his early teens. Now, over 40 years later, Morrissey has honoured Jobriath’s Morning Starship, staying true to the core of the original, while updating its sound for 2019. The result is otherworldly, with Morrissey’s sensual, velvet-smooth vocals and his band’s sparkling instrumentals. Certain nuances make the song more Moz-like, with slight handsome-devil lyric changes: “you might as well sit down, and stay awhile” and a “boom, boom, boom” at the end. Morrissey’s vocals slightly soften Jobriath’s US twang, and guitars are updated from distinct seventies-ness, but both versions charm in their own right, as Moz introduces a whole new generation to the dramatic magic of Jobriath, whose debut album made his recent “Buy these today or drop dead list”.

Morrissey singing Morning Starship during his recent
sold out Broadway residency

California Son continues with four folk and protest songs. Joni Mitchell’s Don’t Interrupt The Sorrow is the record’s second track, and a marriage between Mitchell’s folksy style with Morrissey’s silky, crooning voice may seem unusual on the surface, but it functions quite beautifully. On California Son, Don’t Interrupt The Sorrow’s opening chords are warm and round as big juicy apples, and Morrissey phrases Mitchell’s imagery-rich words in smooth waves. The lyrical content exudes female struggle in a ‘man’s world,’ describing the “wind of change” against patriarchal notions of femininity deeply rooted in religion and tradition.

While writing, out of curiosity, I thought I’d take a peek at Morrissey’s 1997 interview with Mitchell for Rolling Stone: Melancholy Meets the Infinite Sadness (that title!) and soon felt my head implode as Mitchell stated “I’m not a real feminist,” and I realized that my interpretation of the song may well be off the mark, or perhaps not... must every song be confessional? Sure enough, on further browsing, I learned Mitchell has eschewed feminism in other interviews, seeing it as too divisive, and that this was nothing new. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn her opinion is also related to rejecting labels, but I found this tidbit of information interesting not only because of the contrastingly feminist lyrics of the song, but because it readjusted my previous assumption that Mitchell is a feminist. While I don’t necessarily agree with her views, I find it gutsy she speaks her mind, even when it deviates from that very rigid set of liberal expectations we seem to project on the personal opinions of artists.

Morrissey and Joni Mitchell
Source: Sonicmoremusic.com

Following Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow is Bob Dylan’s Only a Pawn In Their Game, a 1963 protest song about the assassination of Medgar Evers, a civil rights activist from Mississippi. Dylan covers are always interesting in that he has such distinct, talk-singing vocals, making his pieces uniquely Dylan-esque. Morrissey, who is more of a natural singer, smooths the lyrical phrasing in his cover, yet still retains the storytelling style of the original song. On California Son, Only a Pawn in Their Game’s instrumentals feature Matt Walker’s military-sharp snare drums and Jesse Tobias’ slide guitar, and especially in the chorus, Morrissey’s voice takes on a superhuman, instrumental quality of its own, reminiscent of a majestic organ or bagpipes. While Dylan’s song is over 50 years old, it resonates with the current political climate in the United States, where racial divisiveness continues to be used by politicians to distract the MAGA-hat wearing poor from wealth-favouring corruption.

Fourth album track is Buffy Sainte-Marie cover, Suffer The Little Children, one of the most vibrant pieces on the album. It’s easy to see how the song appealed to Morrissey, who considered school a crushing experience, and the lyrics follow a similar thematic vein to The Headmaster Ritual; school is a soulless, identity-stripping drill. Morrissey again successfully adapts the folk song, originally sung on 1969’s Illuminations with Sainte-Marie’s unmistakable tremolo voice, to fit his own vocal style, and the results and arrangement are dazzling. New Orleans’ flavoured pianos and bold tuba flourishes keep the quicker-tempoed piece roaring along. Next up is Phil Ochs’ warning-weaved protest song, Days of Decision, which rounds out this well-selected run of folk music, and Morrissey stays close to the soft power of the original. “Do what’s right or you can do what you are told” stands in the mind as words to consider.

Morrissey with Buffy Sainte-Marie
via @BuffySteMarie on Twitter

At this point on the record, California Son steers more towards love-themed songs. Morrissey’s cover of Roy Orbison’s It’s Over is a vocal triumph, and he captures the romantic, mournful essence of the original, phrasing delicate wisps of vibrato that make weeping rainbows come to life. Like Orbison, Morrissey’s voice can at once exude vulnerability and power, moulding a broken heart through waves of sound. Surf-tinged guitar accents and echoing percussion provide sun-setting lovelorn atmosphere, and LP’s operatic soprano adds lush dimension.

Laura Nyro’s Wedding Bell Blues provides uptempo fun, in spite of the rather unfortunate state of the song’s protagonist, who is clearly losing patience with Bill’s reluctance to seal the marriage deal: Oh, Bill. The pairing of a vivacious piano with Morrissey’s swoon-worthy voice is delightful, and Green Day’s fittingly-named Billie-Joe Armstrong provides backing vocals (much to the delight of my ever-existent teenage self, who was a big Green Day fan!) The outro showcases Morrissey’s impressive upper vocal range. On Dionne Warwick’s Loneliness Remembers What Happiness Forgets, Morrissey stays true to the 1970 original with sublime sadness-etched vocals and a simple strings arrangement. It is apparent what a major influence vocal powerhouses like Warwick and Orbison have had on Morrissey. Timelessness attracts timelessness.

Morrissey with Billie Joe in 2018
with thanks to photographer

The next track is Gary Puckett and the Union Gap’s 1968 single Lady Willpower, a lusty ultimatum directed at a shy lover. Morrissey’s vocals are compelling yet gentle, complimented by lively brass, and the addition of Jesse Tobias’ guitar outro updates the song from the original version’s chorus fade-out. Lady Willpower will be released as a single on August 23rd, with b-side Rainbow Valley (originally recorded in 1968 by The Love Affair. The meaning behind California Son's 10th song, Carly Simon’s When You Close Your Eyes, is perplexing (at least to me) – is it about daydreaming, drugs, disappointing relationships? However, while the lyrics mystify, Morrissey’s vocals lend a dreamy mood, at times gliding into the heavens. Backing vocals also add unearthly atmosphere, and special credits are given to “Little Willie” the dog, who barks on the intro. Out of interest, “White Lorelei” may refer to the folkloric tale of an enchanting siren who lures and distracts sailors to crash their ships – perhaps being not half as magic as she seems from afar.

The second-to-last track on California Son, Lenny’s Tune, was written and performed by Tim Hardin, and also Nico, with the slightly altered title, Eulogy To Lenny Bruce. Possibly the most haunting, melancholic song on the album, Lenny’s Tune tells the tale of comedian Lenny Bruce, who died in 1966 from a morphine overdose. Musically dark, and opening with echoing footsteps and faint birdsong, the piece is quite minimalistic, featuring piano, upright bass, and mandolin: power in simplicity. Morrissey’s voice conveys the weary reflectiveness of grief, particularly the strange, complex regret surrounding loss due to addiction, and one feels emotionally transported.

Lenny Bruce arrested via Biography.com

Lenny Bruce was an undeniably fascinating figure who had a massive impact on the meaning of, and rights surrounding “free speech.” In 1964, Bruce was arrested for obscenity, as law enforcement and church officials deemed the content in his stand-up routine could lead to “corruption of morals of youth and others.” In spite of an anti-censorship and artistic freedom petition signed by numerous artists and celebrities, including James Baldwin and Bob Dylan, and a trial with support from psychologists and literary critics, Bruce lost and was sentenced to four months in prison. While Bruce succumbed to his addiction only two years later, his legacy has lived on through other comedians such as Richard Pryor and George Carlin, who continued to push barriers on censorship. Lenny Bruce is considered by many a “free speech martyr,” and he was pardoned posthumously in 2003. In 2019, overbearing obsession with political correctness may threaten free speech yet again.

Melanie, with pigeon friends
with thanks to photographer

California Son closes with Morrissey’s cover of Melanie’s 1971 folk song Some Say I Got Devil. I consider it one of the strongest tracks on the album, an exclamation point ending swelling with darkness and beauty. As with Lenny’s Tune, the instrumental is fairly minimal, and in such pieces, silences themselves also become key instruments. Leyin’s and Manzur’s muted trumpets are funerary, downcast, and Tobias’ Ebow guitar haunts, evocative of a dark, lurking orchestra. Rather than a traditional solo section, the piece erupts, or rather falls into a frenzy of darkened notes mirroring the confusion of an emotional breakdown... and then, with an emergent simple piano, the calm that seems to always follow chaos. The lyrics describe two sides to a person, particularly the perception of the person by others, a Gemini juxtaposition of angel and devil: I Am Two People. Morrissey’s voice is hauntingly beautiful, at points even ripping at the heart with aching, reflective sadness “and all the things that I have seen, can be hidden in a part of my dreams...” These 4 minutes close the album with the contrasting opinions that have followed Morrissey throughout his entire career: some say he’s got devil, some say he’s got angel.