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 14th 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.
