It's Election Day in America. Being a Canadian in the US on election day is a little like being a fly - albeit an opinionated one - on the wall - and all you can do is watch and absorb what's going on around you. When I reflect on what kind (if any kind) of leadership could allow for human beings to at least attempt to live harmoniously together, it's apparent that Trump makes absolutely no sense as a world leader. I still believe Trump running for president is an unfunny, unappealing joke of some sort - he's a 'reality' T.V. star with a bad fake tan - and as comical as these traits might be, there are much more serious issues lurking beneath the tip of this iceberg. Because of our proximity to the US, the president elect does affect Canadians quite strongly but I am in full belief that Hillary will win by a landslide simply by virtue of the fact Trump's views are extremist and could readily set basic human rights back half a century. Who could possibly support him? I get dressed in my World Peace Is None Of Your Business t-shirt - fitting for today - and we head down to Bren Centre where people are already hanging out in anticipation of the concert the following evening.
The perfect shirt |
I'm 15th in line and we spend the afternoon sharing Morrissey memories and play a seemingly never-ending (but fun!) card game called Skip-bo but eventually have to disperse due to campus rules about camping out. Slowly, election results begin to trickle in. Well... this can't be... but the states first reporting are traditionally red... so don't panic yet...but then.... confusion sets in as it appears Trump may actually be winning the election? People joke that they would like to come back to Canada with us... can I set up any sham marriages? The Immigration Canada website actually crashes - and so does the dollar. Will he really build a wall? Suddenly, the Trump joke isn't funny any more, and feelings shift into nervousness - and even further into - fear, dread, uncertainty. We are going to meet early the next day at the venue - and everyone I've spoken with is concerned at this point about the election. Perhaps somehow, some way, things will change overnight, for how can someone touting and spouting disdain for so many groups of human beings be elected as president of the US in the 21st century? Have we learned nothing from history? Or do we all lose?
"Oh, you poor little fool."
November 9th, 2016
The general mood in the queue the next morning is more somber than usual. People are afraid. I see an article on my Twitter timeline that there has already been an increase in trans suicides. Future Vice-President Pence promotes barbaric electro-shock 'gay conversion therapy' that seems to be catapulted out of 1950's psyc-horror films. Did the human rights movements of the 60's, 70's, and beyond even occur?
It feels frightening to be anything other than a macho, right-wing, gun-toting, straight white male.
I have friends who are worried their marriage will no longer be valid because of their sexual orientation. Why should stiff-suited government officials dictate matters of the heart? How can some pompous, soulless bore in a courthouse tell other people living miles away, who may as well be worlds away in spirit, what they should do with their bodies, their minds, their lives? "Love, peace, and harmony, are very nice, very nice, very nice, very nice... but maybe in the next world." News outlets say Trump got the working-class vote: but what can a billionaire businessman who resides in a 5-star hotel emblazoned with his name in gold tell the working class about their own lives? The tactic used by Trump is power by route of fear - the story is old. And oh, the lies and faulty promises we are told - and that some believe - when we are so disenchanted... "The rich must profit and get richer, and the poor must stay poor."
"We never have Anne Sexton or James Baldwin types running the country. They'd make far too much sense." - Morrissey, List of the Lost.
It is hot in Southern California today: we search for pockets of shade beneath trees and against building walls, yet little eyelets of scorching sun still invade even the coolest spots and throw lacy patterns of heat on the skin. At midday we dash back to the hotel to change but there is a conference happening, making it difficult to find parking, and I must weave through overpowering crowds of business and marketing-school extroverts to return to my room. I decide to wear my yellow cardigan and spritz on smoky layers of Incense Avignon, and I take the little glass midnight blue bottle of fragrance back to the queue to ease nerves with scent-therapy. The afternoon trots on and we snack on decadent vegan donuts (as I said before, California is vegan food heaven) and muse over what Morrissey might say about the election.
As dusk rolls around we hear telltale microphone murmurs and drum pops indicating that the road crew is setting up for soundcheck. We wait with eager ears and our already quickened pre-show pulses gallop faster as the opening chords to "Shoplifters Of The World Unite" pour up the darkened concrete stairwell. We sing along - "now, today, tomorrow, and always..."
It's time for doors, round 2!
Security assures us wristbands will go more smoothly tonight than they did for the first show - and they do. We are scanned in and wristbanded and in the darkness I see the glossy stretch of floor ahead of me leading towards barrier - I speed walk once I'm past the gate. Somehow, quite luckily, no one interrupts my path, and, as my eyes hungrily scan the barrier, a blaze of energy flows through my limbs; I pump my legs and arms into a sprint and run the rest of the stretch. I've made it to a terrific spot on Boz's side of the stage - and I curl my arms around the barrier and embrace it in a flesh, bones, and metal hug. The race is won, and I feel a serene bliss wash over me that makes any remaining tiredness from waiting dissolve entirely.
View for Irvine Night 2 |
Tonight some wonderful friends offer to give me a boost for a handshake (the barrier and stage are a bit high) - and I hope with my entire heart that tonight is my night. While we are waiting, Gustavo comes out to say hello and take photos. It's my first chance to meet him and he's an incredibly sweet guy.
Outside the venue, it feels like the rest of the world might be falling apart, but inside, on this night, we are all here and united by our love for Moz. Pre-show videos begin and Alice Cooper's "Elected" tears across the screen flashing with stars-and-stripes monkeys, overflowing cash mounds, and Cooper's white pimp suit and top hat - and the audience sings along with defiant gusto.
When Morrissey walks on stage tonight, I suddenly feel so reassured and safe; his presence soothes the uncertainty and anxiety that so often corrodes my spirit. Our gazes are upon him, and I think we are all aching to hear what he has to say.
"Today is the first day of the rest of your nightmares," Morrissey, wearing a deep blue shirt paired with dark jeans, astutely sums up the grim truth of this election in one sentence. The band, donning Mercy for Animals' "Don't Eat My Peeps" t-shirts launches into Shoplifters... and Moz begins to sing. Time stops spinning somehow - I want to absorb this - and I try to stay in the coveted moment. I feel especially emotional hearing the lyrics, "tried living in the real world instead of a shell, but before I began, I was bored before I even began" live for the first time because I relate to them so much. Morrissey has a way of making me feel understood and less alone: it's as though he's reflecting my own heart and mind back to me as he's on stage. Every time I see him it's a cathartic embrace.
Alma Matters is another song that makes the outsider feel understood - I've felt dragged down and drowned out by the lashings of other's often unasked for opinions and judgments, but deep down I've had to remind myself this is "my life to wreck my own way." I look up at Morrissey as he walks towards the side of the stage I'm on - he shakes a few hands, including one of my friends' hands - and then notices my friend from Mexico and I. I am leaning across the hard steel of the barrier and stretching my hand up towards him. I'm almost floating - but so lost in the moment I hardly notice that somehow I feel nearly weightless (my friends are helping to boost me up) and with a microphone whip, Morrissey steps back in my direction. I look up at him and into his kind blue eyes - and see him lean down to me, "to someone, somewhere..." and he takes my outstretched hand in his and squeezes it. He then takes my friend's letter. We are beaming. My eyes well up with happy tears: the moment brings me so much joy - and means the world to me.
I see Quarry gem "How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel" live for the first time, and then Morrissey addresses the crowd again regarding the election results: "Statistically only 20% of Americans voted for you-know-whom, so don't be too hard on America, America doesn't actually like him or want him. No, No. No. But here it is, and what the hell are you gonna do?" Gustavo's digeridoo rumbles down to the roots underground and the opening notes of World Peace is None Of Your Business fill every inch of the venue, up to the ceiling, and wrap around us. People around me start crying. I'm not even American, and I'm tearing up too, because I know how detrimental these election results may be to so many lives - to the lives of many people standing beside me at this moment. The world feels like it's in impossible pieces, yet Morrissey helps us feel less alone in our grasping attempts to make sense of things. We need him tonight - and I want to reflect the love and understanding he transmits to us, back to him.
Setlist for Morrissey in Irvine, November 9th, 2016:
1. Shoplifters Of The World Unite
2. You Have Killed Me
3. Speedway
4. Ganglord
5. Jack The Ripper
6. Alma Matters
7. How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel?
8. I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris
9. World Peace Is None Of Your Business
10. Everyday Is Like Sunday
11. Ouija Board, Ouija Board
12. One Of Our Own
13. The Bullfighter Dies
14. Don't Make Fun Of Daddy's Voice
15. First Of The Gang To Die
16. Meat Is Murder
17. Because Of My Poor Education
18. The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores
19. Suedehead
20. What She Said
Encore:
21. Judy Is A Punk
Morrissey dedicates "One Of Our Own" to Jennifer, a woman he met back stage only a few nights ago, who has since tragically passed away. I never met Jennifer, but I had heard of how she was fighting for her young life, and that the dream of hers - to meet Morrissey - had come true this past Friday. I hope she has somehow found peace.
"Bullfighter" and "Meat is Murder" make me reflect on the fact that as long as animals continue to suffer senseless violence at the selfish hands of humans, the world will remain in turmoil. Animals look to humans for protection and humans continually focus on their own greed and profit. If the majority of humans treat other beings without empathy, how can we expect the world to ever change from its cycle of exploitation and unnecessary pain? Will we forever be mired in misery? I've met many people who have chosen vegetarian and vegan lifestyles after seeing the heartbreaking abattoir footage shown as Morrissey sings Meat is Murder. Lives are changed - and saved.
For the encore, "Judy is a Punk," Morrissey emerges onstage wearing an olive green shirt and the band dives into deliciously jarring punk tempo - the rhythm section drives and thrives as Mando thrashes the bass. At the end of the raging Ramones cover - Moz flings his shirt to a grasping sea of lunging bodies, somewhere near the middle of the crowd. It's juuuust a little too far over for me, so I don't get a piece this time, but I'm pleased to hear a friend of mine who missed out on a piece at the Las Vegas show grabbed herself a nice big length of Moz-scented fabric.
Morrissey once said, "I'm still trying to make sense of a world that makes none." So much of life - and this world - makes very little sense, but tonight - in this moment - I feel understood, saved, and less alone all at once. As we walk out of the venue and back to the car, I can still feel the touch of his hand. Now my heart is full.
Outside the venue, it feels like the rest of the world might be falling apart, but inside, on this night, we are all here and united by our love for Moz. Pre-show videos begin and Alice Cooper's "Elected" tears across the screen flashing with stars-and-stripes monkeys, overflowing cash mounds, and Cooper's white pimp suit and top hat - and the audience sings along with defiant gusto.
When Morrissey walks on stage tonight, I suddenly feel so reassured and safe; his presence soothes the uncertainty and anxiety that so often corrodes my spirit. Our gazes are upon him, and I think we are all aching to hear what he has to say.
"Today is the first day of the rest of your nightmares," Morrissey, wearing a deep blue shirt paired with dark jeans, astutely sums up the grim truth of this election in one sentence. The band, donning Mercy for Animals' "Don't Eat My Peeps" t-shirts launches into Shoplifters... and Moz begins to sing. Time stops spinning somehow - I want to absorb this - and I try to stay in the coveted moment. I feel especially emotional hearing the lyrics, "tried living in the real world instead of a shell, but before I began, I was bored before I even began" live for the first time because I relate to them so much. Morrissey has a way of making me feel understood and less alone: it's as though he's reflecting my own heart and mind back to me as he's on stage. Every time I see him it's a cathartic embrace.
Alma Matters is another song that makes the outsider feel understood - I've felt dragged down and drowned out by the lashings of other's often unasked for opinions and judgments, but deep down I've had to remind myself this is "my life to wreck my own way." I look up at Morrissey as he walks towards the side of the stage I'm on - he shakes a few hands, including one of my friends' hands - and then notices my friend from Mexico and I. I am leaning across the hard steel of the barrier and stretching my hand up towards him. I'm almost floating - but so lost in the moment I hardly notice that somehow I feel nearly weightless (my friends are helping to boost me up) and with a microphone whip, Morrissey steps back in my direction. I look up at him and into his kind blue eyes - and see him lean down to me, "to someone, somewhere..." and he takes my outstretched hand in his and squeezes it. He then takes my friend's letter. We are beaming. My eyes well up with happy tears: the moment brings me so much joy - and means the world to me.
I see Quarry gem "How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel" live for the first time, and then Morrissey addresses the crowd again regarding the election results: "Statistically only 20% of Americans voted for you-know-whom, so don't be too hard on America, America doesn't actually like him or want him. No, No. No. But here it is, and what the hell are you gonna do?" Gustavo's digeridoo rumbles down to the roots underground and the opening notes of World Peace is None Of Your Business fill every inch of the venue, up to the ceiling, and wrap around us. People around me start crying. I'm not even American, and I'm tearing up too, because I know how detrimental these election results may be to so many lives - to the lives of many people standing beside me at this moment. The world feels like it's in impossible pieces, yet Morrissey helps us feel less alone in our grasping attempts to make sense of things. We need him tonight - and I want to reflect the love and understanding he transmits to us, back to him.
Photo by @mischievousnose |
Setlist for Morrissey in Irvine, November 9th, 2016:
1. Shoplifters Of The World Unite
2. You Have Killed Me
3. Speedway
4. Ganglord
5. Jack The Ripper
6. Alma Matters
7. How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel?
8. I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris
9. World Peace Is None Of Your Business
10. Everyday Is Like Sunday
11. Ouija Board, Ouija Board
12. One Of Our Own
13. The Bullfighter Dies
14. Don't Make Fun Of Daddy's Voice
15. First Of The Gang To Die
16. Meat Is Murder
17. Because Of My Poor Education
18. The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores
19. Suedehead
20. What She Said
Encore:
21. Judy Is A Punk
Morrissey dedicates "One Of Our Own" to Jennifer, a woman he met back stage only a few nights ago, who has since tragically passed away. I never met Jennifer, but I had heard of how she was fighting for her young life, and that the dream of hers - to meet Morrissey - had come true this past Friday. I hope she has somehow found peace.
"Bullfighter" and "Meat is Murder" make me reflect on the fact that as long as animals continue to suffer senseless violence at the selfish hands of humans, the world will remain in turmoil. Animals look to humans for protection and humans continually focus on their own greed and profit. If the majority of humans treat other beings without empathy, how can we expect the world to ever change from its cycle of exploitation and unnecessary pain? Will we forever be mired in misery? I've met many people who have chosen vegetarian and vegan lifestyles after seeing the heartbreaking abattoir footage shown as Morrissey sings Meat is Murder. Lives are changed - and saved.
For the encore, "Judy is a Punk," Morrissey emerges onstage wearing an olive green shirt and the band dives into deliciously jarring punk tempo - the rhythm section drives and thrives as Mando thrashes the bass. At the end of the raging Ramones cover - Moz flings his shirt to a grasping sea of lunging bodies, somewhere near the middle of the crowd. It's juuuust a little too far over for me, so I don't get a piece this time, but I'm pleased to hear a friend of mine who missed out on a piece at the Las Vegas show grabbed herself a nice big length of Moz-scented fabric.
Morrissey once said, "I'm still trying to make sense of a world that makes none." So much of life - and this world - makes very little sense, but tonight - in this moment - I feel understood, saved, and less alone all at once. As we walk out of the venue and back to the car, I can still feel the touch of his hand. Now my heart is full.
Photo by uurssaa on Instagram |
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