Morrissey Tour November 2016: Irvine Night 1

I'm back in Canada from almost 2 weeks of travelling in the US for Morrissey's concerts in California, Reno, Boulder, and Texas.  While all 8 shows didn't go through because Gustavo fell ill in Boulder, I have some amazing memories from this trip and want to write down my thoughts about my travels and the Morrissey tour. The first thing I want to say is that I hope Gustavo gets well soon. From meeting him before the concert in Irvine on November 9th, I can see he is a really kind person and I can also see how much he means to Morrissey and everyone else in the band; they are like brothers.

I'm no professional writer but the process of translating experience or the imagined into actual printed words on a page gives you a certain feeling. One neat thing about writing is that it allows you to live amidst different planes than the actual reality that surrounds you. If your piece is fictional, you can feel yourself meld with the characters you create, and in some sense you live their pain, their happiness, their thoughts - vicariously. If your piece is a concert review or personal journal, as you're writing, you remember things with burgeoning clarity as you go - and moments, visions, and sounds, with each fine detail, fall into place, and maybe, just maybe, if you're very lucky, for a moment you'll feel as if you are right there all over again.  My reality is currently the dismal erratic clank of an overworked washing machine and dryer and chilly feet (Canada is NOT California) - but some part of me is standing in line with my concert ticket waiting for the rush and push through unknown doors and hallways to the metal hug of barrier. Reality is not real to me.

Morrissey in California

I want to go back in time two weeks - because two weeks ago - I was beaming with excitement.

November 3rd, 2016:

It's just after 2 am and normally I'd just be going to bed, but today is different, and today I'm just waking up. I feel that unfamiliar emotion flowing through my veins and pumping from my heart: happiness. It begins to take over the strange poisonous feeling that churns within me most of the time - a tiring blend of depression and anxiety. I've often likened my mental health issues to wearing an itchy sweater under your skin - some strange affliction that can't be ripped off, that others can't always see - although maybe that sounds a little trite. I wonder if 'normal' people feel this unusually soothing happiness I'm experiencing today far more frequently, or perhaps the truth is there is no such thing as normal.

The cab to the airport is coming at 3 am. I want to get out of my little suite that and onto that airplane more than anything in this world. Last minute items are thrown into carry-on bags and we are just out the door when... oh... the door knob breaks off the front door in hand and leaves a hole in the door. I can imagine some of my friends will find this amusing - usually, somehow reliably, it is the airplane that is broken - today it is my house. The yellow cab breathes foggy white exhaust into the cold night air - waiting - and there is nothing to do except leave the doorknob hanging half off its hinge for dear life. Oh well.

I live on an island so nearly every flight I ever take includes at least one connection. The plane we board to Seattle is a relatively tiny silvery white tube compared to the massive jets that cross oceans between continents and still - after takeoff the sky engulfs us with pitch-black velvety darkness. Golden lights of a sleeping city dot below through smoky straggles of cloud and I feel relieved to be finally travelling away from my dismal hometown.

On landing in Seattle I need coffee, although I am already full of a certain energy I always forget I have. I browse an airport bookshop and see US election-themed covers mixed amongst sci-fi, chick-lit, and self-help yawners. A massive "ew" breaks through my lips and I gesture towards a paperback titled "Great Again" which features Donald Trump's grinning orange face (the grin is sinister!) staring back at me. I momentarily think - we aren't in Canada any more - does it matter? My distaste and disgust for Donald is a reflex going back some 20 years. He won't win anyway, I think to myself.

The second flight lands us in Orange County and as we touch down I feel that much closer to seeing Morrissey and my Moz friends. I want to check out the venue as soon as we are settled at the hotel to see if people are already queuing: as it's California and the afternoon on the day before the show, I assume they are. No, I haven't had much sleep, but I really do want to be near the front.  On Twitter the venue is already informing us we are not allowed to line up overnight so this will make things tricky. We will meet up early the next morning and hope for the best.

I'm already discovering vegan food in California is glorious - it's a cruelty-free junk food mecca of burgers and fries and ice-cream sandwiches WITHOUT animal flesh or products. Shamelessly, I decide to stuff my face with these delights in bed while looking out at the golds and peaches of a Southern California sunset. As I'm a bit airport-stale, I crash into a nap quite early as I want to be ready for queuing around sunrise the next morning.

November 4th, 2016

I jump out of bed as soon as the alarm goes off to get to the venue at the Universit-ay. Arriving just before 7 a.m., I snag #24 on the list, which is a decent spot, but might not secure front row. However, as with everything in life, there are no guarantees, so I try to stay in the moment and reflect on how much this day means to me. I've recently been through another bout of deep depression: losing my cat and emotional traumas have harangued my spirit and through early autumn life plummeted into that grey bleakness that makes getting out of bed and facing the world a marathon of impossibility. Having tickets for these Morrissey shows gave me something in the future to focus on - and his words and music held my hand through the pain.

It is lovely to see some friends I hadn't seen in nearly a year, and also some of those I had seen in Europe and the UK this summer, along with meeting some new people I only know from (anti) social media, or perhaps not at all. One of the things that makes going on tour to see Moz very special are the connections you make - while we can be different ages, from different countries and experiences in life, we are all united by our love for Morrissey. It's fascinating to hear first-hand about the Asian and Australian tour some went on last month, and exotic and far-off places crystallize through the words of others. As morning tumbles into afternoon, the sun beams and beats down on me and I remember what it feels like for sun to touch my pale back bedroom-recluse skin (my bedroom is sunken so it's always night somewhere).

Bren Centre is the home of the Anteater

The energy and jitters before doors runs straight through my fingertips and my heart is percussively pounding in ecstatic rhythms. We have a concrete staircase to run down to the general admission floor area and at this point I don't know exactly what lies beyond the big cobalt blue metal doors to venue entrance 5. We have discovered which direction the stage is in, which is helpful in planning our routes to get to the front. A mental map of where to head is extremely important when each second counts in getting to the barrier - a faulty ticket scan or wristband fiasco can mean bodies will race past you and you lose your spot. We share stories to the wide-eyed terror of first-timers - oh, and make sure you ditch your purse, as that will slow you down too when you go through security. Minutes count down.

School's about to start.

Doors! My ticket is scanned through (always a relief after London) and immediately to my left I see a cluster of people as we are told we must wait for wristbands. It's a bit messy as two venue attendants are placing neon yellow wristbands haphazardly on the wrists of concertgoers and it seems like the queue order is slipping away and luck is going to play a leading role. I thrust my wrist between two tall men waiting to be wristbanded and there is absolutely no one around to band me on either end of the table. My heart is in my ears yet dropping to my stomach and shoe soles are slamming onto the sports court floor as I wait and fragments of seconds spin and churn by. A young woman with a big white box full of canary bracelets walks up to the middle of the table and I look at her with pleading, desperate eyes. A wristband angel; my urgency is conveyed to her and she attends to me first, tying the cool plastic around my wrist and with this secured, I dart towards the barrier. I obtain a spot on Jesse's side, quite far over near the speakers - but I'm very happy to have gotten front row and wrap my arms around the hard loving metal, leaning on it a little breathlessly. I'm back in my favourite place in the world.

Joan of Arc and barrier Irvine night 1

Anticipation mounts as Maya No, No, No, No's with poetic force (don't ask me about the time I curiously recorded myself reading my own poetry, because it was really quite embarrassing; I am no Angelou) and the pre-show videos blaze up the screen, that familiar ritual of punk and genius and cinema in an orgiastic mosaic of sound and images.

Klaus Nomi, my life is opera... and a circle of white light guides Morrissey and the band out. It's him, in the flesh, and he walks towards the front of the stage to bow, wearing a navy-blue shirt with silver eyelets down the collar and chest. His presence soothes my heart; I immediately feel embraced and so much less alone. Being here on this night is everything to me.  Well-meaning people often tell me to "be careful in the pit" (because there is stage diving and occasional pushing) but when I'm in the front at a Morrissey concert, it's the only time in my life I ever really do feel safe. At some point near the beginning of the show Moz says "Welcome to Irvine night 2" or something to that extent, which makes me giggle, because although this is the first show, it was announced second after the show on November 9th sold out so quickly.

Photo by Andrew Gomez

The music wraps itself around my ears and heart and Morrissey and the band sound beautiful. My spirit is alive and I'm singing along with friends from far-off places. Tonight's setlist is one of the best I've ever seen, and I get to hear "Don't Make Fun of Daddy's Voice" (with the lyric switch "someone got stuck in his throat"), "Because of My Poor Education", "Good Looking Man About Town" (he uses a dapper handome-devilish photo of himself in a tux for the backdrop during this one!), and a cover of The Ramones' "Judy is a Punk" for the first time.

Morrissey in Irvine November 4th, 2016 Glorious Setlist (Via setlist FM)

1. Suedehead
2. All You Need Is Me
3. Speedway
4. Istanbul
5. Don't Make Fun Of Daddy's Voice
6. Because Of My Poor Education
7. I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris
8. World Peace Is None Of Your Business
9. Kiss Me A Lot
10. One Of Our Own
11. I Will See You In Far-Off Places
12. The Bullfighter Dies
13. The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores
14. All The Lazy Dykes
15. What She Said
16. Ganglord
17. Meat Is Murder
18. Jack The Ripper
19. Good Looking Man About Town
20. Oboe Concerto

Encore:

21. Judy Is A Punk (Ramones cover)

We are getting an education more meaningful than anything you could ever learn in school tonight, and Morrissey brings up the subject of history, questioning how much of what is written and relayed to us is actually true?  The fact is, information is filtered for us, possibly dramatically, always subjectively, and we can't know the extent to which history is censored and sanitized, likely in the interest of those preaching this unknowable, unreachable past.  Moz addresses the crowd with, "from history we learn, that The World is Full of Crashing Bores," which leads into the opening chords of one of my favourite Morrissey songs.  I lean over the barrier and sing along, full of emotion - I think of how I've never really felt a part of the world, and how I just can't relate to many others and find the things and lifestyles that attract most people unappealing. "What makes most people feel happy leads us headlong into harm." I think of the straggly snippets of blah business airport chatter I overheard back in Canada about the stock market and company policies, or my own numb unspoken disquiet at family gatherings when housing square-feet and babies-with-rabies are discussed. But, then that lingering insecurity creeps in that perhaps I'm a crashing bore too, for why am I so isolated and stay indoors most of the time? "You don't understand... you don't understand..." Maybe it doesn't matter, because Morrissey is singing how I feel, and my heart is somehow put into words in front of me.

Screen shot from video by Beto Martinez

I realize by the end of the show my face aches from smiling, because in every day life these muscles are woefully under-used by me, and also that black mascara is flecked across my cheeks from crying. At a Morrissey concert you feel every emotion; it's a cathartic experience that nothing else can come close to.  I message some dear friends overseas with gratitude for helping me through the rough times leading up to this night. I am alive, in California, and there are 7 more concerts coming up, including one tomorrow night in Santa Barbara.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Photo by @mischievousnose w/ edit by @tonymerchison

Fave Looks and Notebooks

I'm currently starting to think about my packing lists for my trip to see Moz in the US, and have also been doing a fair bit of writing lately. Through my Morrissey-related travels and social media, I've met a number of writers and it's inspiring to meet people who share similar interests to me. Anyway, over the last week or so I have started working on what I think will be a novella-length story (I am not in the least bit focused, so this is the longest piece I've ever set out to do). At first I thought my story was brilliant, but have since read through the first part and thought to myself: "ugh." I haven't a clue what I'm doing! However, we live in a world where E.L. James can get published, so I suppose anything is possible. For now I think I'll keep chipping away at it because I mostly write for myself, and - of course -  to escape reality. On the bright side, the story is supposed to be immensely tragic, and the one person I've revealed the plot to laughed out loud, which I'm entirely sure is a good sign.

Enough about me, what's exciting is that Morrissey and the band are in Australia this week for 5 concert dates - and, judging by Mando's Instagram, are having a good time hanging out at the bar.  In a recent video for Roland UK, Boz said one of his favourite ways to stay busy on the road is drinking, which came as a tremendous shock as I assumed everyone was terribly well-behaved (no, not really).

Give us a drink, and make it quick:

Via farkomalarco on IG

One thing I've always found mesmerizing about Australia is that so many unique animals reside there. I am particularly fond of koalas (I have a little toy one that sits on my desk wearing a plastic hat, even though I've never been there myself before) - and since many fans and the band have been down there, I've seen photos of kangaroos, black swans, and a number of other interesting animals. I'm vaguely wondering if at some point someone will post a photo of a funnel spider or something - which will undoubtedly lead to weeks of nightmares (this is not an invitation to do so).

photo via mwbattery on Instagram

Notebooks:

This week there has also been a new Morrissey interview. Last time Morrissey was in Australia, there was an interview with The Australian that contained one of my favourite all-time Morrissey quotes:

 "Yes, I carry around notebooks because we do tend to hear things that we'll never hear again, so there's no point relying on memory all of the time. I also listen intently to what people say, and I have the annoying habit of constantly seeing it written down before me. This is only annoying because most people don't say anything interesting. Consequently, all of my notebooks are blank."

Thinking of this quote, along with my own - err... attempts - at writing - inspired me to compile a few Morrissey quotes about writing and the writing process. It's fascinating to get a possible window into how he writes, considering his words are what speak to so many of us about our lives. While he is most well-known for his lyrics, we've also gotten a taste of his brilliance for letter-writing (see his old letters to NME and other music mags, or penpal Mackie), post-card writing (often brevity shows wit in its finest quick-punching form), fiction (List of the Lost), and Autobiography. I've also heard in his youth he wrote play(s?). One thing I've picked up on is his ability not only to tap into the intricacies and truths of the human emotional experience (often things many are uncomfortable to speak out about) but also his ability to induce a vivid image inside the listener's or reader's mind (think of the "streets upon streets upon streets" intro to Autobiography). Anyone who has ever tried to write will admit this is not an easy feat. He also seamlessly entwines profundity, sadness, and humour - often all in one song. Just one example I thought of the other day is The Father Who Must Be Killed, which tells an entire short story in a song that's just under 4 minutes. 

Let's take a look at some of the quotes:

Photo by Kevin Cummins

"I understand well why many writers lock themselves away forever. With their words they can recreate the actions they couldn't develop in real life, and not because they are dysfunctional, but because the human race is not empathetic at all. To make true friends can take a lifetime, and at the same time, the more you know a person, the more they disappoint you. They say we are a civilized species, but I insist, turn on the television and you will see what we are: a bunch of crazy people in a global insane asylum." (El Mundo, 2014)

Once you've said you're miserable what's left for you to write about?
"Ooh. There's so much buried in the past to steal from, one's resources are limitless. I'm not saying everything I write has been written before but most of the way I feel comes from the cinema. I fed myself on films like A Taste of Honey, The L-Shaped Room." (The Face, 1984)

When you're writing a song, do you write it in one go, or do you take notes along the days, and when several can fit together, you just gather them?
"I'm less inclined towards notes these days, and have just finished two new songs without any consultation to any scribbled ideas. This happens more and more, notably 'That's How People Grow Up', for instance, just fell out. I'm not sure if they're actually even songs, or simply outbursts or showers of panic. Generally there's a central vocal hook, most typically the chorus, which comes first, and if it doesn't then there's no song. My aim, mostly, is to have every moment of the song as a vocal hook.... that's the hope, anyway." (TTY)

"[My mother] was instrumental in engineering the way I feel about certain things. She instilled Oscar Wilde into me and when the Smiths began, she was very strong-willed and business-minded. Frankly, she always let me do what I wanted. If I didn't want to work she said fine... If I wanted a new typewriter, she'd provide it. She always supported me in an artistic sense, even when many people around her said she was entirely insane for allowing me to stay in and write. It's this working class idea that one is born simply to work, so if you don't you must be of no value to the human race...But everything has worked out well - it's all proved to have some value and she feels as great a sense of achievement as I do." (The Face, 1984).

"I just take the basics of a backing track and shout along to it for a few days... Seeing where the syllables land, and seeing how the words balance out. Suddenly the lyrics form, and a configuration presents itself." (Mozipedia)

"[My] words are basic because I don't want anyone to miss what I'm saying. Lyrics that are intellectual or obscure are no use whatsoever... my lyrics are only obscure to the extent they are not taken directly from the dictionary of writing songs... My only priority is to use lines and words in a way that hasn't been heard before." (Mozipedia)

"I scribble things down in hundreds of notebooks and I have large boxes full of scraps of paper which I use... The title comes first and the vocal melody creates itself." (Mozipedia).


What is your most important inspiration when you write songs?
"These days it's unashamedly my own emotional position, which I now admit to being quite odd. When you're 23 you have poetic license to be searching and confused and obsessed with suicide and greatness in equal measure. But I am now 48 and can no longer be said to be developing a philosophy of life. Things, by now, are meant to be settled. For me, they aren't. I'm still trying to make sense of a world that makes none. As far as romance is concerned, my life has always been absurd, so it's only by the power of song that I attempt to keep body and soul together." (TTY)

How would you describe the process of writing your forthcoming memoir, and what do you hope readers will take from it?
"I think autobiography is mostly self-worship, or personal mythology. In my case, self-disgust is the spur, which doesn't mean it isn't poetic or elevated or even funny." (Rookie Mag, 2013)


Congratulations on the success of your book (Autobiography)
"Well, thanks, but it hasn't stopped selling yet.
...how long did it take you to write?
"Well, I had to live it first, so quite a long time. It was originally 600 pages, but I thought that was a bit too much self-disgust to expect anyone to plough through."
Was it a process you enjoyed?"
"Living it? No. Writing about it, yes. I wrote the childhood sequence almost as a child might, and the adolescent period as an adolescent might, and the adult section as a...suicidalist might. It's really just a factual account of how events affected me, so therefore any criticism of it doesn't make any sense, since I am me, and only I can know what it's like to be me, and so on. It was never meant to be The History of The World." (Hot Press, 2014)


Do you have a certain place where you'd like to be to write songs?
"The answer is in the bath. I lie there for hours singing my head off. Whenever I've moved house, I first call the agent and ask what the bath is like - nothing else much matters." (TTY)

Fave Looks:

In other news, I made another Twitter poll asking people what their favourite Moz look is. Naturally, I was on about my fourth glass of red wine at the time - and this question suddenly hit me as something of tremendous importance that I needed answers to immediately. Twitter still doesn't allow more than four choices, so I chose three categories, and Other (Please Specify), which judging by the number of votes - means that most people selecting this option - indeed - did not specify (I always find this funny because I don't have much to laugh at most of the time!).

I took it upon myself to make collages of the the three looks I selected, being:

Suit/Jacket: 

Double Denim:

Cardigan <3:

I don't think it would take much guessing to figure out which category I was hoping would win... But, I had to do the right thing and give everyone who wanted to vote a voice in the matter - and the final breakdown was:

As we can see, the Dapper Suit/Jacket option came first with 43% of the votes, and in second place was the Dashing Cardigan option, with 32% of the votes. Dazzling Double Denim came in third with 16% of the votes. 9% preferred Other, and some write ins included:

"Thin see-through shirts, Kill Uncle Style"
"Flowery Shirt" (I have a soft spot for these as well)
"Nothing at all" (blushing!)
and
"Old Grey Whistle Test, as the Smiths singing Bigmouth. In tie, jacket, jeans, hearing aid, and glasses"

So I think I'll watch that clip myself - and then I'm off to stare at a blinkering cursor on a word document, or (not) sleep (probably). I'm looking forward to hearing about the Australian shows over the next while. Adelaide is up next - and Moz has also added three new US dates to his tour (Detroit, Cleveland, and Chicago):

http://www.true-to-you.net/morrissey_news_161024_01

*Oh and just as I'm about to publish this I see two more Australian interviews have appeared, so I'll link those:

Morrissey Says Animals Lose on Language

and

Morrissey Slams X-Factory Reality Shows


(Thanks to @MozzeriansATW for tweeting the links)

Jakarta and Jardigans

While I clumsily drop toast plates and talk to ducks in the park, I've been keeping my eye on updates from Morrissey's Asian tour. I'm so pleased for some of my Twitter friends who have been waiting with such anticipation to see him on Indonesian soil, as Morrissey just landed in Jakarta yesterday. I'm also getting a bit of a giggle out of the fact that some people are staying in a hotel called the Morrissey Hotel - where even the shower caps have 'Morrissey' written on them (surely this is nearly heaven?).

Morrissey Hotel in Jakarta

This morning I was treated to photos and videos of Morrissey arriving at the airport behind Boz, who was pushing a massive cardboard box on a luggage trolly.  Morrissey's nephew Sam was also there, snapping photos in a Jesse Tobias t-shirt. I've never seen anyone look as dashing as Morrissey does at the airport! I usually look like a stale, frazzled, dazzled, confused disaster - more often than not walking in the wrong direction (I am spatially inept). Some very lucky people got photographs and autographs - which is why I try to carry a sharpie with me when I travel on a Morrissey tour, because you just never know. Sadly, the only famous person I've ever seen at an airport is pornographer Ron Jeremy looking terrifically unwashed; no... I didn't recognize him from his films... and no... I didn't go say hello. 

Signing autographs (SER representing TOBIAS) (photo via deny_dean)

Meeting fans (photo via dewadeasywalda on Instagram)

I've also just finally started diving into the Uncut magazine I bought in Manchester in August. I'm particularly delighted by the two-page spread of Morrissey's letters to music mags from the 70's and early 80's. It's nice to have a lot of them in one place (see also here for archives: http://www.passionsjustlikemine.com/magazines-presmiths.htm ) It takes me back to an image of him writing in his bedroom at the house on Kings Road. If you're wondering, the wit has always been there, and so has his enviable arsenal of adjectives, and of course, a cheeky blazing bite. He does have a way with words.  

Uncut Magazine and my cat-print pants

Here are some of my favourite excerpts:

On the Sex Pistols:

"The bumptiuos Pistols in jumble sale attire had those few that attended dancing in the aisles despite their discordant music and barely audible lyrics... I'd love to see the Pistols make it. Maybe then they will be able to afford some clothes which don't look as though they've been slept in." (to NME, 1976)

On the Buzzcocks:

"Buzzcocks differ in only one way from their contemporaries! - they possess a spark of originality (that was important once, remember?), and their music gives you the impression they spent longer than the customary ten minutes clutching the quill in preparation to write...

...Both this letter and Buzzcocks themselves will probably be filed and forgotten.

But for now, they are only the best kick-ass rock band in the country. Go and see them first and then you  may have the audacity to contradict me, you stupid sluts."  (to NME, 1977)

and what a way to sign a letter... 

" P.S. I work for the Inland Revenue - am I still allowed to be a punk?" (NME, 1977)

Still allowed to be a punk?

In other news, I also made a breathtaking discovery while drinking the most bitter Malbec imaginable and perusing Instagram the other night.  It appears that a few years ago, Moz was spotted wearing - oooh the palpable excitement as I type this - a jacket-type-cardigan thing. Since it was not my birthday anymore, this was like a late birthday present!  Some of you (I know there are others so fixated on luscious layering items) may remember earlier in the year Morrissey appeared at LAX carrying a dazzling sweater-y number over his arm and the stir it created on Twitter as I made a poll trying to discern if this item was in fact a jacket, cardigan, or 'jardigan' (a seemingly original phrase I thought I had coined, but woefully did not). Lamentably, jardigan did not win, and nor did cardigan. 

Below is the LAX photo from this May:

Well, never fear because jardigan strikes again - albeit from the past - and I knew I had to grab the chance to create a second poll with this newly discovered photo:

Oh my goodness... SO, thanks to a few retweets, this poll ended up amassing over 200 votes. and... Jardigan won quite handily with 51% of the votes:

Goosebumps and gloriousness! Well it's not too long until Morrissey's concert in Jakarta. I might update this with a few photos and the setlist later.

*UPDATE w/ setlist:

"My heart... my heart... my heart... Jakarta"*

Via zgromadzenie on Instagram

Via dolleydoll on Instagram

Via thedisplaymlg on Instagram

Moz: "Do you like Donald Trump?"

Audience: "NOOO"

Moz: "Did you know that world peace is none of your business?"*

*(concert quotes from @madesarimame & @rapplerID)

Via inabritpop on Instagram

SETLIST:
(October 12th, Jakarta)


1. Suedehead
2. Alma Matters
3. Everyday Is Like Sunday
4. Kiss me A Lot
5. Speedway
6. Ouija Board, Ouija Board
7. Let Me Kiss You
8. World Peace Is None Of Your Business
9. I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris
10. You're The One For Me, Fatty
11. Judy Is A Punk
12. Jack The Ripper
13. Ganglord
14. First Of The Gang To Die
15. The Bullfighter Dies
16. The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores
17. How Soon Is Now?
18. You Have Killed Me
19. Meat Is Murder

Via aparatmati on Instagram