I Am Not A Dog On A Chain: A Review

For the album review, skip to the boldened heading below...

Oh has the world changed or have I changed?

I would like to go back to February 14^th of this year, which was probably the last time I felt fully serene. A dreaded sunny day, I decided to visit the old Victorian Gothic cemetery across town. The air was crisp and cool, but low winter sunlight wavered through the trees, and my only company was gentle deer grazing and curled up against time-worn tombstones. Rare contentment. Walking amongst weathered angels, Cemetry Gates danced through my consciousness, and I thought of how I would soon be visiting the tombs of Oscar and Jim at Pere Lachaise, and Sartre and de Beauvoir at Montparnasse. Those were side trips though, because the true reason I was going to Paris, Cologne, and London, was to see Morrissey.

Cemetery deer

Days passed; the core became ruffled... uncertainty began trickling in, in waves of nauseating confusion, as an illness known as coronavirus, which previously seemed distant, existing mostly in China and man-made, floating, germ-ridden petri dishes of gluttony known as cruise ships, took hold in Northern Italy. Days held their breath and groaned with stress, and on social media I muted everything to do with the words “corona” and “covid-19,” somehow telling myself that if I hid from the world news, it could never possibly find me. One morning, a friend texted me a map of Germany, marked with a big red area, throbbing like a scab: that’s the most infected part of Germany, she said. It’s also where Cologne is located. Oh.

France’s numbers, too, were beginning to take off. Countries began discussion of setting up quarantine facilities and cancelling large events. Even borders could be shut down. Muting everything was not working. The media, as always, drove further hysteria, as unbridled panic undoubtedly brings more clicks and clacks. During such frenzy, it is hard to know who to trust, or how to decipher exactly how dire a situation truly is, particularly if one is overseas: Do you trust journalists? Do you trust governments?

So, I began packing... slowly... while nursing dwindling glimmers of hope, for it would not be long until I gazed into Morrissey’s blue eyes once more, and it would not be long until new songs graced my ears for the first time. PARIS BANS EVENTS OF OVER 5000. I deleted social media. And reinstalled it. GERMANY TALKS OF BANNING MAJOR EVENTS. And deleted it. 24 hours before our flights to Europe were to depart, working on limited funds in a world that was seemingly against us, my friends and I made a down-to-the-wire decision: not to go. It was not my gut instinct, for my gut instinct, of course, is to follow my heart, and not the whims of governments. However, Europe seemed to be falling into disarray, and I had the back up plan that I would go to Morrissey’s gigs the following week, in New York City, where I felt my odds were better stacked, with smaller venues, in a less affected part of the world. After all, New York is the “city that never sleeps.”

I did not play the odds wisely, and now find myself in a daily quicksand of (predictable) self-loathing and regret, fuelled by hindsight’s 20/20 glare. While Paris was cancelled due to government orders, Cologne and London did squeak in, just barely. New York has also now banned large events. Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

Morrissey in London
by manal.dancer on IG

Meanwhile, I will carry on like most others, lost in befuddlement over an impossible global situation, personally questioning the actions of governments, as my thoughts disappear into a void that likely few would want to hear anyways. One thing I am certain of, however, is that we can only expect situations like this to reoccur as long as the exploitation of animals continues. If barbaric, cruel practices such as wildlife markets and factory farming carry on, they will ultimately lead to our demise, and the demise of the planet itself. If humans could only believe the truth - that other species have a right to their own lives - we might actually stand a chance.

The album review:

In the midst of all this – we have something to keep us going – and that is that Morrissey has released a new record: his thirteenth studio album, I Am Not A Dog On A Chain.

I Am Not A Dog On A Chain is precisely the album the world needs right now, which may sound like a bold statement, but... art that feeds the mind, heart, and questioning spirit is, for many of us, the vital force that inspires us to continue through dark times. It’s the bite, the rubber ring we can hold onto when everything else sinks, disappoints, and discourages. Good art, I think, ought to be both daring and freeing. Morrissey is perhaps the last – possibly the only – creator of his kind in this sense, when it comes to modern, popular music.

Hear my voice in your head and think of me kindly.

I Am Not A Dog On A Chain opens with the aggressive, thunderous, electronic pulse of Jim Jim Falls, which is somewhat of a sonic departure for Morrissey. “At Jim Jim Falls, I falled in love, at Jim Jim Falls, I’ve felled up from hell,” he sings, his voice smooth against distorted synths and metallic echoing percussion. “If you’re gonna jump then jump, Don’t think about it...” his voice remains nearly calming, yet the powerful words bite. Describing the protagonist’s internal battle, that strange-yet-familiar ambivalence towards suicide, the torment of living inside one’s chattering head, Morrissey conveys the suicidal person’s self doubts, where action, whether by jumping, living, or singing could be release from a circular, never-ending mental battle. Instrumentally, the track is as forceful and de-realizing as the existential dilemma itself: a fist full of sound to kick off the album and engage the listener.

Morrissey in Vancouver, 2019

The otherworldly Love Is On Its Way Out is next, opening with raindrops of intricate keyboard riffs. “Did you see the headlines? Did you see the grablines? Did you see the nerve gas... children crying... did you see the sad rich, hunting down, shooting down elephants and lions?” In one verse, Morrissey describes a soulless modern life: a world built on fear, and monetization of distress, violence, and greed. The song climbs towards a full, climactic crescendo, and the human condition, that feeling of aloneness and wanting to be loved, in spite of living in a world devoid of love, is expressed in that Morrissey-esque way, comforting the misfit heart: “But before it goes... before it goes... do you have the time to show me... What’s it like? What’s it like?...Oh take time, be mine... and Gaze with fondness on... the wrong one.” “The wrong one” – self deprecating, lovelorn, and loveable at once.

Bobby Don’t You Think They Know is a back-alley underworld soul ride through the life of a singer who is hiding his “torture down below” in a drug-addled haze. You may need an urban dictionary to keep up with the terms: Bobby is not merely dabbling. Featuring vocals with R&B power Thelma Houston, Morrissey harmonizes in velvet tones, and the tune is catchy, with sparkling, urgent keyboards, lush dark chords, soulful saxophones, and a Doorsy organ solo. Oh what layered lives we lead, and oh the things we try to hide.

Thelma and Moz
via thelmahoustonofficial IG

Title track I Am Not A Dog On A Chain has a light, poppy feel, juxtaposed with thought-provoking vocals. A call for critical thinking and being one’s own person in a world that imposes just the opposite, Moz, who is no wallflower when it comes to voicing his own views (and I love that about him) beseeches us again to “stop watching the news,” speak our own truths, and “open up” our “nervous mouth[s]”. His voice switches from playful and lilting, to crooning, dark, and commanding throughout the song, as do the instrumentals. Some sage advice: “I do not read newspapers, they are troublemakers. Listen out for what’s not shown to you and there you find the truth.”

What Kind Of People Live In These Houses features jangly acoustic guitars and a touch of twangy pedal steel. Lyrically, it has a slight kitchen sink feel, the poetics of the mundane - describing various everyday people, some even wearing “proper trousers.” Nuances of Irish Blood, English Heart’s “sick to death of Labour and Tories” stir, as Morrissey questions how much thought goes into the home dwellers' political views: “they vote the way they vote, they don’t know how to change... because their parents did the same.” ... And I can’t help but think of how very true and unfortunate this observation is. He continues with, “they look at television thinking it’s their window to the world,” his pronunciation of “te-le-vision” slightly mocks, and tells another modern truth of the frozen state many people find themselves in (or perhaps don’t find themselves in: do they ever consider that there is a life to be lived elsewhere?). Finally, Morrissey gives up on the crashing bores with a resigned... “who cares what people live in these houses?”

Morrissey at the Hollywood Bowl, 2019

Knockabout World has 90’s synth vibes but mixes retro with futuristic sounds, complimented with cascading guitar riffs. The world is a boxing match, pummelling us, knocking us about, so full of herd-minded bullies and cancel culture drones constantly forbidding us to be ourselves: “they tried to turn you into a public target.” In spite of this ongoing battle, as we also see with Love Is On It’s Way Out, Morrissey remains at heart a romantic: “I’d kiss your lips off any day” and “you’re okay by me.” It’s a catchy, satisfying song.

Morrissey digs into his 60’s girl group influences with Darling, I Hug A Pillow, which along with Jim Jim Falls and Bobby Don’t You Think They Know, is one of my favourite tracks on the record. It’s a touch motown, and a touch Paper Dolls, accented with ethereal female backing vocals and latin-flare trumpets. Darling is a yearning for physical love, capturing the ache of longing while being seductively sweet, and yes, even a tad naughty: “no longer keeping secret your secret place.” Morrissey’s “darling I’s” on the outro are ultra dreamy!

The Paper Dolls

Once I Saw The River Clean boasts an upbeat, resonating electronic sound, with heartbeat rolling tom and bass drums, and strings later in the piece add elements of old-world patina. The song has a storytelling aura, describing neighbourhood walks with grandmother down familiar Manchester roads, past graves, gardens, and the gaze of savage youth, contrasting coming-of age-with aging, innocence with anticipation. Time’s tide reflects: “She would never be again... a Dublin dancer free and young.” It is a window into memory.

Newer and older instrumentation’s marriage finds its home once more in The Truth About Ruth, which lures us with soft rolling piano, and swells into a haunting tapestry of distorted electric guitar, mandolin, minor chords, and eerie operatics; it’s hybrid natural and synthetic. Ornate medieval and baroque characteristics add to the drama of the track, which tells the tale of Ruth, who is John, struggling to stay grounded in a binary-gendered world: “the life you lead, straightforward and bland. Everything happens according to plan. But some people fight just to take root. In a world ill-equipped for the truth about Ruth.”

The longest track on the album, spanning nearly 8 minutes, is The Secret Of Music, an experimental, textured collage of sound, and it’s quite structurally and sonically different than any other Morrissey track I can think of. His voice mesmerizes, both crystal clear and seductive, and the lyrics flow smoothly, like stream of consciousness writing. Muted trumpets, creeping clarinets, and Hendrix-esque guitars carry the listener on a dynamic journey, weaving one into the experience of sound. It’s reminiscent of late 60’s experimentalism, and it’s ultra-trippy, with sound effects that uncover themselves anew with each listen, including boomerang wind whips, laughter, and strange voices akin to almost-there radio signals.

Morrissey wearing vintage trousers in Calgary

The closing song, My Hurling Days Are Done, soothes like a lullaby, while lamenting the passing of time and its crimes all at once. It seems to be Morrissey’s reflection on aging, and the loneliness of this very human experience of trying to accept and understand how one goes from child, to adult, to older-age. The same time that blossoms us, also jades us with experience, and while we are worn down somewhat, much of our spirit remains the same and struggles to make sense of it all; it transfixes. The lyrics express the vulnerability of being at the mercy of time, which will “send you an invoice. And you pay with your strength and your legs and your sight and your voice.” And yet... I sense defiance, because it’s damn brave to talk openly about these things.

And this is why the world needs Morrissey, and why he still has so much to say. It is hard, beyond hard, to find authenticity in a society dominated by social media, clickbait journalism, and out of touch celebrities and politicians. The modern world feels soulless, clinical, isolated and disturbingly - it seems to gleefully feed off panic, greed, and our gnawing unhappiness – yet somehow – we aren’t allowed to speak about such angst or frustration. The part of me that feels guilty for checking out from the news, and curling myself into the little space in my head at times, also knows this is survival instinct for the overthinker and the overfeeler. Because, at some point, how can you not feel overwhelmed?

I Am Not A Dog On A Chain draws us into a cathartic world of music, a world where we can find our own voices. Like any good art, it challenges us – covering every topic from trophy hunting, to suicide, to gender identity, to unrequited desire, to aging. Yet with these challenges, the album comforts, because we feel heard and spoken to as thoughtful, intelligent, feeling individuals.

I want to not feel alone, and when I put a Morrissey record on, I again remember I am not alone.