Favourite Morrissey Moments 2016

I'm sitting here in pink cat-print pyjamas thinking about what a strange year this has been. Firstly, I am glad Christmas is over with, because at this stage in my life I'm just not a Christmas-y person, although as a child I certainly was. At this point, however, it just seems like an obligation, chore, or fa la la la bore - and I've heard this view echoed by many. I do feel some sense of accomplishment due to the fact I cooked my first entirely Vegan Christmas dinner, and also that I managed to avoid being subjected to bullying from carnivores who seem to relentlessly be under the remarkably disturbing impression that Vegetarians eat fish.

Now we blaze on towards 2017, and I can't help but think the majority of people can't wait for this year to be over. It's not been an easy one, in many respects, reflections, and spheres - anywhere from personally to globally.  When a number of negative blows occur in life, it can be very hard to cling to hope, and this is perhaps one of the great emotional difficulties racking the human heart... how do we keep going in a world that often feels senseless? What can we look to when the unavoidable thought strikes... "Oh, what's the bloody point?" I will just let those questions hang here, because I can feel myself crawling off on one of my moody doomy tangents, and my purpose here today is to actually talk about some of the lovely things that happened in 2016.

This year there were some truly wonderful Morrissey moments; as Moz said on TTY, even though it was"scarred at the end," it was absolutely "drenched in beauty until then." I thought I'd list my favourite ten moments, although... I've decided to put them in random order... as I'm unable to rank precisely for many of these - and many are special in their own way.  In that sense, memories are akin to snowflakes. I've linked a number of my choices to concert reviews to describe in detail the experience, and included some links to video footage. Enjoy!

1. Moz Puts The M in Manchester 2016

There is literally nothing comparable to being there on this night. Sometimes I still can't believe it. The surge from the audience was electrifying - and Morrissey sang his life for us with passion, pain, intensity, and humour.
Manchester review
For SER's footage of the concert click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkKKegbEDPg

From footage by Sam Esty Rayner

2. Morrissey wears a sparkly cardigan in Bergen

Judging by photos I've seen, Bergen, Norway is a place I would love to visit one day, with its colourful buildings, hilly cobble streets, and jewel-toned fjords.  On August 6th, the Bergen audience was treated to the first Morrissey concert of the year (aside from January's Las Vegas show). Moz arrived onstage looking stunning in a sparkly cardigan. This was the most beautiful cardigan ever to bless my eyes, and I know my cardigans. There's nothing that gets my heart soaring quite like cardigan Moz!
Setlist and cardi excitement are here.

Photo by gaffa_no on Instagram

3. Morrissey in Berlin

This one was a favourite for me because it was the first time I'd seen Moz in 8 months! And it was also my first time travelling to continental Europe. The night boasted a unique venue and glorious setlist.
Berlin review

Morrissey in Berlin: with thanks to photographer

4. Irvine, Night 2

The second concert in Irvine, California was a beautiful night for many reasons, and for me this choice comes to the importance of a personal moment.  My friend and I had handshakes, and my other friend got her letter taken during Alma Matters. These are memories to cherish for life. <3
Irvine Night 2 Review

With thanks to photographer

5. Good-Looking Moz About Town

Oh this was brilliant - Moz uses a handsome devilish photo of himself in a tux as backdrop for Good Looking Man About Town. This first appeared at the concert in Newcastle, Australia, and we were lucky enough to see it a few times in the US as well.
Newcastle review by my friend Aine here.

With thanks to photographer

6. Jack the Ripper 

Yes, I know Ripper came back in 2015 during the South American tour, but the addition of the smoke has been breathtaking. There's something about watching Morrissey's silhouette emerging through the fog to sing that's powerful and symbolic. As he moves, twisting through thick billowing clouds, it impresses upon one the beauty and pain of struggle. I can't find a video that quite captures how remarkable it is in person, but every time he sings it live, it's definitely a transcendent, captivating moment.
Video from Santa Barbara here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6ViqDg_YEM

Photo by @plainchant_w

7. The Great Jardigan debate

Speaking of cardigans, which I do often, we were treated to a bit of a fashion mystery back in May when Moz arrived at LAX with a piece of clothing draped over his arm that resembled something in the realm of a jackety-type cardigan. I even made a poll to discern what the fetching fashion item actually was, although the majority considered it a jacket. Sigh of sighs. Luckily, later in the year, we did find a photo of Moz from a few years ago wearing what was mostly believed to be a jardigan. This gave us something to think about while hoping for tour dates.

Mystery sweater item

8. Trumpshifters 

Trump being elected as US president is honestly beyond confusing - appalling is probably a better word; it's actually frightening to think so many could vote for such a person. Every time I think of his being elected I think "What the hell?" It still makes no sense to me... 4 years is a long time.  At the concert in Reno on November 11th, with our collective shock still fresh, Morrissey changed the lyrics of Shoplifters Of The World Unite to "Trumpshifters of the world unite and take over."
Reno Review.

9. Morrissey at the Santa Barbara Bowl for Día de los Muertos

Moz in a dashing suit and the band with sugar-skull painted faces, including Boz donning a priest robe!
Santa Barbara review

Photo by michaelxmoz on Instagram

10. Morrissey Xmas Photos

"Morry Christmas from Merrissey"

We all love a good Moz Christmas photo - and this trio of photos snapped by Sam Esty Rayner was a fantastic Xmas gift for all of us. The photos are a bit cheeky, a lot iconic, and have just the right amount of devastating handsome devilishness. Love the Bruce Lee sporty yellow jacket too - as I've got a bit of a thing these days for Mozzer wearing sportswear. In fact, my new holy trinity of Mozwear might be cardigans, sportswear, and checkered coats. Then again, floral shirts are ever so charming as well...

Photo by Sam Esty Rayner

and...

My vote for favourite Moz merch of the year undoubtedly goes to the cat necklace, which manages to combine my two great loves in one sleek lovely piece. This was a really popular item with many people. Meow me a lot.

Now I'm off to find a bottle (or more) of mediocre champagne or not-too-bad prosecco.  Of course, this New Years Eve won't be as special as last year's night with Moz in LA ... but it still certainly requires the makings of a semi-decent hangover. I'll leave you with this clip from that very concert:

Happy New Year!

Rubber Ring: In Defense Of Music As A Personal Lifeline

Some people consider me to be a pessimist.

I suppose they might be right, at least to a certain extent. It’s hard to find the line where my depression washes over my world view, or perhaps the two are so overlapped I can’t find where one ends and the other begins.

It’s easy for me to grow hopeless: despair is my default mode, but maybe I’m looking at this in the wrong way.

Depression is one thing, because it exhausts you, it drains you, and such dragging lows can make it extremely difficult to even look after yourself. Disenchantment, or dissatisfaction with the world, however, can be something quite different.

I dreaded waking up this morning; anyone who is depressed knows that feeling upon waking up: you’re slammed with exhaustion as soon as you’re conscious. Any drive for life becomes virtually nonexistent. Great.

Things could be better right now: before the shows were cancelled by management, I was supposed to be planning a trip to Texas next week to see Morrissey.

You see, Morrissey always makes me feel better.

Photo by Jonathan.Weiner photography on Instagram

The people who don’t get Morrissey won’t understand what I’m saying here. Desperate deadline-crunching journalists have passed down the “Heaven knows he’s miserable now,” and “pope of mope” descriptors for decades. Dial-a-cliche. I’m not sure they’ve ever listened to him properly. But that’s fine – it’s their loss. Because to me, well - he’s my lifeline.

So, I’m still crushed right now – because I wanted to see him again before I had to face all those nasty things I don’t enjoy: like attending dismal holiday gatherings, being under the firing squad of "What are you doing with your life?" questions, or getting my antidepressants refilled (one being necessary to survive the others). Well, what can be done?

I had to drag myself out of bed today, not with any desire, but because I had some errands to attend to. So, I reluctantly went out, and I didn’t like anything I saw: walls of traffic, zombified Christmas shoppers piling into bland box-stores, caffeine-fuelled road-raging businessmen, and fast food families waddling under the 10 billion-served-and-slaughtered death-arches of McDonald’s. There was a lot of rushing, but to where, and for what? It’s a bit overwhelming, if you stop and think about it.

Modern life has no soul.

It’s easy to feel very alone.

It’s very easy to feel detached.

Life is presented and packaged to us in a certain way, and there is a certain order in which we do things, or so they tell us. It can get old very quickly.

Most politicians, the media, ‘authority’ figures – are all terrified that you might think, or feel for yourself, or that you could possibly want something different.

That’s where art comes in.

Art appeals to our longing for something more – something that acknowledges our struggle with – yet our understanding of - reality. I think it’s best when it tells us something about our raw feelings, or speaks to a certain ache.

Music is art. And it’s one of the only authentic expressions that’s all-encompassing of the mind, the heart, and the soul.

So why, why, why – is its distribution controlled by these major record labels, industry bores, and major media outlets, that don’t want us thinking or feeling or having our own opinions?

We are force-fed pre-packaged music – and it is essentially chosen for us and thrown in our faces and into our ears.

Most ‘artists’ today are uninspiringly manufactured; they come from reality shows. Hell, even the next American president, spray tan and all, comes from a reality show. Kardashian Kulture.

But if someone else in a drab air-conditioned office somewhere is choosing it for us, or telling us what to like – how is it art? Is it even still art if it doesn’t speak to us on any level?

If a singer’s voice is distorted by auto-tune to the tune of 100 “oh baby’s” layered over synthesizers, will that ever tell us anything about the state of our world or our own feelings?

Oh, but it's image. Someone from OK! Magazine thought it was...okay.

No wonder it’s so easy to feel alone, or bored, or despondent – because everything that’s presented to us is the same.

And that’s why there’s nothing wrong with feeling disillusioned – because those who feel that way are often the ones who look for more.

My late 20’s were dreadful because I felt so lonely. Teenage angst wasn’t really a teenage thing at all – it was a life-thing – and I was overcome by the knowledge that the world is a painful place, and my feelings of being an outsider would never really dissolve. I wanted something to speak to me, and along with books, music was always my favourite escape – but nothing ever reached me in quite the right way. I just couldn’t find my place in the world.

Then, relatively late in life, I found Morrissey.

How did he know?

“What She Said...How come someone hasn’t noticed that I’m dead, and decided to bury me, God knows I’m ready.”

Oh my God, he’s singing about me! Well, not exactly, but – it felt that way. It was like someone reached into the depths of my heart and found a diary in there, unlocked it, and was reading it back to me.

I immediately bought his whole catalogue. It was absolutely life-changing.

Life Is A Pigsty.

Earth Is The Loneliest Planet.

The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores.

Who else was saying these things? This was the ultimate catharsis. He can make me laugh and sob in the same 4 minutes of beautiful music. Some hope and some despair – woven together – a reflection of life, actual life. He speaks to the parts of me that are broken, yet somehow remain strong because of this brokenness – because these fractured pieces make me unique. More than anything, I finally feel understood. How could I not love him?

He is the strength I never knew I had.

The winter I discovered him, my dream was to one day see him sing in person. Several months later, the first night I saw him walk on stage, from sixth row, in Seattle, I nearly burst into tears - he had rescued me, and here he was, in the flesh. Since then, I’ve seen him 15 times – and somehow – every time he walks on stage, it still feels like that first time. I am genuinely alive, even if it’s just for a few hours. I couldn’t ask for more than that.

Looking up at Morrissey on stage, singing, thrashing the microphone cord, the darkness and light surrounding his frame, there’s of course something supremely godlike about him, but there’s also something very vulnerable and exquisitely human about him. And he speaks to us, his audience, like intelligent, caring, humans. Somehow, that’s rare.

I wish in a week or so I could be watching Morrissey on stage, in a far-off place, surrounded by the friends I’ve made, other Morrissey “soulmates” from around the world. But for now, I’m at home.

Yes, I’m depressed, and yes, some days are struggles. But, at other times, I feel inspired and understood. Strangely, what led me to this place was my overriding sense of despair about the world. At times it’s crippling and I feel hopeless – but, if I didn’t experience this despair, I wouldn’t look for change - I’d simply just accept things.

I don’t want art to be boring and contrived. I want art to challenge my ideas. I want music to speak to me. Yet somehow... out-of-touch execs are making these decisions for us – and the true artists don’t have record deals.

I felt my heart break when I read True To You the other day, because I could tell that these dates being cancelled was gut-wrenching for Morrissey and the gifted musicians in the band. For days I didn’t want to look at any of the NME, Guardian, (et al.) articles being re-tweeted onto my Twitter timeline. The truth is, there will probably always be the predictable negativity from journalists, or from anon69 in the comments section of online music mags – or from those who are fed up they can’t get all the money back for their room at the Holiday Inn.

But remember, artists are human beings too.

It’s cold, dismal, and grey here – and my heart somehow still believes it's travelling to Texas; it’s wandering around confused while my luggage stands empty by the door.

I’m going to go listen to World Peace Is None Of Your Business.