The Uncaged Heart Pt 2: Morrissey in Edmonton and Calgary

I’ve zigzagged all over America, the UK, and even dotted a bit around Europe and South America, but for years much of Canada, my home country, remained untouched. This year, thanks to Morrissey, I had already visited Toronto and Montreal for the first time, and now, I would find myself returning to Edmonton and Calgary (it had been over 2 decades) and travelling to Winnipeg and Saskatoon, also firsts. No passport required ... Touching down in Edmonton at midnight, the airport stands nearly desolate save for a few dawdling late night passengers and parka-ed employees, as wintery blasts lash the sides of the building. Bemused, I notice a rather dystopic looking convenience store complete with slurpee machines located across from the baggage claim, as conveyors spit out luggage under eerie florescent lights.

Edmonton’s streets are lined with silvery trees casting down their leaves, and while the daytime sky is azure, chilled air invites smoky wisps of vapour when one talks. It's a long way from last weekend's San Diego palms. Walking, we pass signs for everything from used bookstores to nude table dancing "Chez Pierre", as magpies hop gaily from sidewalk to branch. Overhead, I spot a magpie balancing on a window ledge and snap a photo: the birds have lovely plump white chests and sleek black wings and I find them mesmerizing. “One for sorrow,” they say, but I never believe negative superstitions about animals.

Morrissey in Edmonton

Standing in the brisk evening air beside the brick of the venue, I feel electric anticipation charging through my veins: tonight is the first show of the fall Canadian tour, and I have a front row centre ticket. My cheeks ache from smiling. It’s unfathomable how I am somehow within the same human frame as I am at home: this typically lethargic, gloomy introvert now sees such sparkle to the world. It's nice to escape my cocoon of ughs, even if it's just for a little while.

As we race into the theatre past scarlet carpets and rows of seats, I am awestruck to discover tonight’s stage is very low, with no barrier. The microphone, standing elegantly right before me, seems virtually eye-level, which is of course an exaggeration, but I can’t recall being at a gig that feels quite so intimate. I drink a sip of wine to calm down, but nerves and bliss make my heart pound with untethered liveliness, and the spell cannot be quelled, as pre-show videos mount towards the longed-for moment Morrissey walks on stage.

What will he sing...? What will he wear...? What will he say...?  

“Canada-dear, I am here,” he leans into the microphone, to rapturous cheers. The band jumps energetically into the driving tempo of Suedehead, and stage lights flicker and flash. I’m nearly certain all breath has left me as Moz slashes the microphone cord, which, in a thrill almost touches me, and he twists and turns about the stage... “Why do you come here... and why... oh why... why do you hang around?” He is ultra close to us... I keep thinking, in wonder. Tonight he’s wearing a midnight-blue blazer accented with lapel pins, a white Morrissey t-shirt given to him by a fan, and dark wash jeans.

As Morrissey sings Alma Matters, he takes my hand in his, and in that moment all of life’s pains are washed away. It feels like a dream I could never have imagined during the hopeless hollows of my late 20’s and early 30’s ... and now mind, body, and soul are restored. Perhaps I never was alone... I just hadn’t found what speaks to me yet.

Moz is in a good mood, chatting between songs and even jokes about the slippery stage floor, “if I go a over t, by all means, laugh as hard as you like” before How Soon Is Now’s opening notes fill the theatre. He smells divine, like incense, and when he smiles, his eyes sparkle blue heavens under his dark, dramatic brows. Being so near is beyond surreal, and the entire energy of the night feels eternal. There is an added something to seeing him in my home country that I cannot quite describe, a combination of soaring spirit, and the grounded joy of sensing Canada's earth under my feet as I watch him.

Tonight’s setlist includes California Son covers, like piano driven number Wedding Bell Blues, Smiths songs, and Morrissey tracks spanning from Viva Hate until current day. There are a number of Quarry era gems like Munich Air Disaster, Irish Blood, English Heart, and First of the Gang to Die, and Morrissey’s voice and lyrics capture such a complex range of human emotion, from lamentation to defiance to longing – that it’s impossible not to find oneself transformed while watching him. 

“You may be tourists, you may be townies, you may live here, you may be passing through, so if you’re all those categories, this song is for you,” he dedicates, as the minor-chord poetry of Home is a Question Mark begins to dance in our ears. The yearning for “home,” or the feeling one has a place in this world, can be all-encompassing, deep, and even conflicting, and in this song I feel he expresses this sense of searching so well, down to the questions we ask ourselves. Morrissey continues to so eloquently describe what I’m going through – and ... again I know I’m never alone.

“So the news is – we are all animals... All, all of us are an-i-mals” he states, and this truth is frequently ignored by human animals, who continue to exploit non-human animals merely because they don’t speak the same language as us. Over my journeys, particularly through Canada, I will meet a number of animal rights activists at Morrissey concerts, from those who bear witness and provide the final - and only - moments of comfort and love to animals on their way to the unimaginable horror of slaughter, to those who campaign to end the cruel treatment of animals for ‘fashion’ by companies such as Canada Goose. I feel honoured to meet these warriors for decency, and as Bullfighter's opening trumpet notes sound against a backdrop of bullfighting, I long for a day when non-human animals are no longer savagely ravaged by inhumane humans.

Edmonton Encore

For the encore, Morrissey returns wearing a pale blue jacket embroidered with birds, and a white and red Bruce Lee tshirt. Speedway’s guitars grind powerfully, and he holds the microphone stand up high for the crescendo’ed opening, his voice softening, yet ever resilient for the quiet haunt of the verses. “and when you try to break my spirit, it won’t work, because there’s nothing left to break ... anymore.” And ... with the last flickers of light for the night, he throws his jacket off, then tears his t-shirt down the middle, dabbing its fabric on his handsome face and torso, and tosses the tee into the urgent depths of the crowd.

***

Lemmy the Beaver, our Canadian tour mascot, watches over us as we drive from Edmonton down to Calgary, alive with giggles and music. Outside, golden bales of hay and stretching fields dusted with snow roll by for endless miles, while magpies skip and flit from icy sky to frosted earth. Beefaroni truck guys zoom by every now and then, but Alberta also has a very up-and-coming vegan community, and it is always easy to find food. After a quick hotel rest to get ready, we are back waiting outside the next venue for Moz in Alberta, Round 2, donning our winter coats and boots.

Lemmy the beaver
Photo by @mischievousnose

While seated gigs provoke less panic-filled pressure at doors than standing shows, I am still overcome by the adrenaline-driven desire to run to the barrier, or in this case, to the stage itself. Part of this is, of course, ingrained after years of general admission concerts, where in a mix of endurance, will, and luck, every second counts, but I also know it’s because of the exhilarant joy of realizing in just a few hours, Morrissey will take that very stage waiting ahead.

“Near, far... yes I believe the singing voice must go on...” Morrissey sings, in homage to Canadian chanteuse Celine Dion, after appearing in a wash of golden light... and Suedehead rings its glorious notes up to the rafters. Always one to admire Moz fashion, I notice tonight he is wearing trousers in a shade of tawny fabric that exude vintage cool. The look is complimented by a charcoal blazer and a very pale pink dress shirt, open a few buttons to reveal strands of rosary beads around his neck. The mix of vintage clothes with newer items, to me, connects symbolically with his latest album, California Son, as he takes older tunes and makes them new again, adding his own flair. We are all pieces of our past, while existing in the current moment, and – as an aside... how much fun would it be to go look around vintage clothing and record shops with Morrissey?

Moz fashion in Calgary!

“Yes, I’m very happy, very happy. It will pass in a flash, it will pass in a flash, but I’m very happy,” Moz says, and then, after Wedding Bell Blues, he passes the microphone to a couple of fans in the front row, asking if they, too, are happy. He walks towards my side of the stage and for a moment, my breath catches as I think he might be passing the microphone to me, but it is to my friend, and I half wonder if I would have fainted had it been me.

The charging notes of defiant rocker I Wish You Lonely sound, but Morrissey stops the band, teasing that he will go to the bar now because the song's beginning shocked him so much... but then adds, “this time I’ll sing (cheers) and your job in life... is to smoke weed (giggles and cheers), stop watching the news, stop watching television, because it’s not very good for you; in fact, let me say this... and only this...whenever I have been in this country, I’m never invited on television, which is a compliment (clapping cheers) because when I allow myself to be dragged down... how wrong you are... tomorrow I’m on the prize is slight.”  I absolutely live for these snippets of wisdom and humour he imparts at live shows.

Crooning in Calgary

Accordion-laced Why Don’t You Find Out For Yourself describes the pitfalls of the music industry, and Moz sings with vigour, occasionally whipping the microphone cord against his hip while blue lights dance above. The lines, “don’t rake up my mistakes, I know exactly what they are... and what do you do? Well, you just sit there.” always strike profoundly, as... isn’t it so very true that those who offer absolutely nothing of substance themselves are often the most vocally critical of others. The Vauxhall song is paired well in the set thematically with If You Don’t Like Me, Don’t Look At Me, and Morrissey croons up to the chorus with velvety smoothness, then jabbing emphatically as he sings the title line, playfully adding “so don’t get your knickers in a twist” at the end.

"I love yous", cheers, outstretched arms, voices singing along. Alberta luffs you, Morrissey.

Red smoke billows throughout the air, and dark guitar riffs create knife-plunging atmosphere, and one feels transported to the damp echoing black back alleys of Whitechapel. Morrissey sways with the music, removing his jacket and whipping it to and fro like a dark cape. Crash into my arms... we sing along with him, our arms outstretched in adoration as he is engulfed in clouds of fog. During the guitar solo, he laughs a deliciously maniacal laugh, and we are further elevated into the divine.

Jack The Ripper in Edmonton

As theatre lights drop into darkness, we cheer for Morrissey's return, our eyes searching eagerly for his emergence from backstage, and my heart feels so happily bruised and open ... can you please stop time? Tonight for the encore, he is wearing the light blue birdie jacket with a canary yellow Bruce Lee t-shirt, and he walks up to the microphone and says: “we had a great time in Edmonton, we’ve had a great time here, so if you think I’m crying, I’m not. I’m leaking.” And the band roars into a rapturous version of What She Said and Rubber Ring, as lights dazzle rhythmically. The pit becomes a dance floor of leaping limbs and boundless energy and Morrissey moves across the stage with vitality, thrashing the microphone cord, and singing passionately... “and I need to cling to something...” People reach for him with last-chance-for-now yearning, and some pass him letters. As the final notes of the song fill our ardent ears, he tears his t-shirt off and throws the coveted fabric to the fervent crowd. By now, every slick of ice in frosty Alberta must be melted... and my soul ... it hops aloft with the magpies.

Calgary Concert Video via SER and The Southern Alberta Jubilee Auditorium:

Alberta magpie in action!

All photos by me unless otherwise noted. 
Special thanks to @basia_ana for video help