East Coast Tour Part 2: Morrissey at Madison Square Garden in New York

I’m walking through the lobby of the Hyatt in Boston, and there are Christmas wreaths, bows, and bells everywhere. That I can handle, but the music, it permeates everything... perhaps because music evokes emotions and memories much more strongly than any other medium. Santa Baby (I’ve always found it creepy) sends me over the edge towards panic and I momentarily feel like blacking out. The same tired Xmas music and advertising jingle bells hell reminds me that December really feels like a drag.  It all just seems so forced. When did I become so jaded?

As a child, I enjoyed Christmas, but now in social anxiety driven adulthood, I dread it – it seems like code for something I’m not part of: I just can’t feign frivolity - and I know I’m not unique in feeling this way. I've heard if you have kids it's different. Maybe, maybe not.

I wonder if I will see Morrissey again before having to face Christmas. The fate of the Boston concert seems uncertain, as Philadelphia was cancelled two nights before. Within minutes of finding out about the cancellation in Philly, our airbnb cat, Soren (named after existentialist philosopher Soren Kierkegaard) comforted me by settling her warm, purring body onto my lap. It’s the first time a cat has sat in my lap since my own cat passed away last year.

“Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”

- Kierkegaard

Soren the cat

As usual, I need to try to live in the moment, and somehow not stress out. Free from tinsel’s trappings and into the open air, one of my goals is to visit Boston Common, a park in the middle of downtown Boston that features a bronze sculpture called “Make Way For Ducklings.” There’s also a massive duck pond and a number of extra friendly chubby squirrels that respond when you talk to them or blow kisses. My mood lifts and I buy a little bag of cashews to share with them. In my head I naively feel very Snow White as I hold a cashew between my fingers and a fluffy squirrel leaps towards me, with no coaxing necessary. Before I can even blink, the brazen squirrel does a crazy Bruce Lee 360-degree turn mid-air and ... tears the cashew (and the skin) from my hand, which is now bleeding. Boston squirrels are intense.

Make Way For Ducklings

Some Squirrels Are Bigger Than Others

Not long later, there is an announcement that the Boston concert is cancelled. I’m glad I’m not alone and am with a friend. My heart sinks: it’s a seated show and I had front row tickets – but more than that, I wasn’t mentally prepared to say goodbye – not yet. Most importantly, I hope Moz and the band are healthy and that it’s nothing too serious. The news really hits when we are at Whole Foods later that evening, and Spent The Day In Bed fatefully pours over the speakers – I can almost feel tears start to well. It bothers me how some faceless people online will criticize, because I know it hurts Moz to cancel: “I put myself through torture. One cancelled show and I lower my face on to a hot stove for six weeks.”

While the tour didn’t end as I had hoped, I had some wonderful times with some great friends, and the concert in New York City was one of the best nights of my life.

Let’s go back...

I’m in an uber travelling from La Guardia airport to our hotel in midtown Manhattan and to be honest, it’s simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. Moments in, I let out a teensy yelp as a car cuts us off, with seemingly no room to enter. New York traffic: it’s wall-to-wall cars across 5 lanes and constant honking horns and gestures that are absolutely vile. We're already immersed in inky darkness and the famed skyline glistens in the distance as we crawl towards our destination. A large bus (not double-decker, unfortunately) nearly drives on top of my side of the car: by the time our uber ride comes to an end, I’m pretty sure I've nearly died at least 3 times.

The buildings in New York City tower, black, sooty, casting shadows upon shadows. They suffocate from above, and on the zooming streets below, countless people walk and wander, from tourists to businessmen to the homeless. The class juxtaposition is disturbing: a woman drenched in diamonds may be only a few steps away from a man sleeping under a crumpled blanket of newspaper. The rich must profit and get richer, and the poor must stay poor. Stands crammed with faux-designer handbags and sweaty food trucks pepper the sidewalks, ground floors typically remain behind wrought iron bars, and second floors beam neon signs for palmists, psychics, and variations on ‘massage’. A chain-smoking man selling Egyptian cat statues from the back of a van screams obscenities and pizza stands sling slices nearly the size of truck tires. It’s overwhelming even by big city standards.

Early in the morning, well before sunrise, we make our way to Madison Square Garden to line up. It’s freezing, and I’m swaddled in double scarves and blankets. I am 9^th on the list, and I gingerly lay my sleeping bag against a wall peppered with cigarette butts and onyx grime. Oh, the things I do for this man, I giggle. My love I’d do anything for you. In all my 30-something years, I had never camped or slept outside before Morrissey. Queuing makes me feel content, as strange as that may sound to some; I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world

People think we are street kids and offer us food – we politely decline and explain we are lining up for a concert. A man with swaying dreadlocks gets a massive kick out of us: “You guys are crazy. If you are so determined you can do this, you will go far in life” he laughs, taking a long sip from a dented mega-can of beer. I consider the fact that I’m not-so-sure in other moments in my life I’m tremendously determined, but the thought is nice. Tumbleweeds of errant garbage twirl and swirl in the wind, and as the sun begins to rise, plump Penn station pigeons strut about like tiny businessmen in shiny grey suits.

A friend from Japan surprises us with some beautiful presents: a magazine from Singapore, some Japanese Tour Posters, and a vinyl. Morrissey has changed my life in so many ways, and the great friendships I’ve made all over the world are a huge part of that. We are all from various backgrounds, life experiences, ages, but our bond of loving Moz means that, in a sense, we immediately understand each other. Hold onto your friends.

As we count down to doors, I sense a familiar feeling pouring down my arms – that rush – a blend of anxiety and excitement. I can tell other people have it, by the way they shake out their limbs, like racers lined up at a track. As the glass doors open, we rush to separate lines at metal detectors. I make a habit of NOT bringing a purse because it slows things up... I throw my lipgloss and a few items into a dish placed before the detector. A grey haired security man, looking slightly like a grouchy Bob Barker, barks at me.
“THESE ARE METAL DETECTORS – WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
I gasp, wide eyed, confused.
“YOUR PHONE!” He adds.
Oh – it was still in my hand – I fling it into the dish and walk forward... I had no idea cell phones contain metal, which is apparently supposed to be common knowledge. There’s something else to check off on my list of shortcomings that render me virtually useless at everyday life.

Pretty little orange Madison Square Garden bracelets are snapped onto our wrists, although the clasps make it fumbly for some venue workers, and valuable seconds slip away. I speed-walk up to the barrier and claim a spot on Jesse’s side. Now it’s time to absorb the feeling of the pre-show music – the build up is exhilarating, and any feelings of exhaustion from a long day slip away.

The pre-show videos are a ritual – and as the Ramones burst onto the screen with Loudmouth, the floor starts to jump in time with the beat – the pit is set on a bouncing dance floor. A really great thing about the pre-show videos is they give you an eye into Morrissey’s influences and interests. I decide I should check out 60’s girl group the Paper Dolls when I get home. The screen is filled with Warhol stars like “we’re rich, we’re famous, we’re beautiful, and miserable” Candy Darling and spiky head-thrashing punk icons like The Sex Pistols.

When Morrissey walks out on stage tonight, he is wearing a dashing navy blue cardigan with white trim and dark jeans with rosaries and chains hanging from the belt loops – I'm filled with delight – because I LOVE Moz in a cardi. The blue suits his eyes, brilliant eyes that somehow pierce and delve into your soul when he looks into yours, if only for a moment. A friend later coined his style that night as “Madison Square Cardigan” and I’m kicking myself for not coming up with that first.

This New York City show is already feeling awesome!

Photo by Violeta Preciado

The songs from Low In High School are such high points for me live: Mando's pulsing bassline in I Wish You Lonely is accented with Morrissey's microphone cord whips: “turn the key slowly, remember how I can’t sleep” and “romance gone wrong...”

The lyrics somehow identify feelings I’ve never been able to articulate outside the diary of my mind: “free in the truth of make-believe,” “the news contrives to frighten you,” and “the more I wish for someone the less likely they come.” These beautifully sung snippets of poetry start to etch themselves seamlessly into my consciousness, like tattoos on my soul. Sing your life, our lives, my life.

Tonight the lyrics of My Love I’d Do Anything For You are really speaking to me – I wonder how many people really do teach their kids, or even themselves to recognize and despise the propaganda of the mainstream media? It’s so hard to extract yourself – and be yourself - when outside forces are battering you from all sides on a daily basis – surely life isn’t destined to be lived in a one-size-fits-all format? Certainly society – the news, governments, bosses, the media drown down our minds and creativity... are we held captive by rules and expectations? Think of all the other things we could be – but what a hard route that is to walk, and not without criticism – and loneliness. Fitting in means stripping so much of yourself away – how much of you is other people, or what other people want or expect? Society’s hell. These thoughts bend and sway over Matt's rolling tribal drumbeats.

For many of us, the only time we feel happy, or free to be ourselves, is at a concert.

Photo by aine1974 on Instagram

Jack The Ripper evokes London fog, and the dank dangerous alleyways and backways of 1880’s Whitechapel. Morrissey emerges from within the fog, his hands grasp through its billows towards the microphone stand, his head slightly thrown back. His arms spread as he sings “crash into my arms.” Jesse next moves through the fog towards the front of the stage for the guitar solo, notes singing in response to Morrissey's powerful, haunting vocals. You can almost feel the eerie echos of bricks and cobblestones. Again, it’s music that transports you to different places, times, and minds.

As the notes to Everyday Is Like Sunday fill the theatre, a friend boosts herself over the barrier. Morrissey reaches out to grasp her hand and she makes it on stage – for her first hug.

“I’m in a dialogue with my audience – and that’s something I need.”
- Morrissey

Tonight, two soul-baring ballads are back-to-back. Home Is A Question Mark’s bells and tearful minor chords sparkle through the air - “Home - is it just a word? Or is it something you carry within you?” Stunningly, searchingly beautiful, I wonder if this song will be one of the next singles.  Next is Quarry’s I’m Not Sorry, which speaks to me like an earnest plea to be understood, or at least accepted as one is, by one’s love: “reach for my hand, and the race is won... reject my hand and the damage is done.” We can be so bold as to reveal ourselves to the world, yet behind this, deep within, the fear of rejection devastates and aches.

Existence Is Only A Game

Morrissey and the band walk out for the encore – and with arms interlocked, bow to the crowd. Of course I don’t realize at the time it will be a while before I see them again. It’s strange looking back because I hadn’t really prepared myself to say goodbye to Moz for a while – but then again, maybe I’m never prepared.

Photo by maladjustedguy on Instagram

During Suedehead the pit becomes a sea of groping hands, limbs, and bodies. Cardiganed Morrissey makes his way over towards our side of the stage – and I reach up to touch his hand, but the first handshake goes to a person in the row behind me who is much taller – then, the moment comes and our hands touch. My heart floods and beats with life. More flying bodies – I get a big New York boot to the back of my head – and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so carefree about being kicked in the head in my life...

If I’ve ever been kicked in the head in my life...

A random hand socks me in the eye. I duck, then smile.

What an incredible night.



All photos by me unless otherwise specified.

Home Is A Question Mark

When I was about 11 years old, I found myself wandering around a small Canadian seaside town mostly known for its abundance of geriatrics and rain showers, and randomly came across a palmist. She was seated outside on the pavement, at a rickety table dressed with kitsch thrift store throwaway fabrics billowing in the breeze.  For ten dollars she would divulge my entire future - and as my pessimism had not yet entered its suffocating stage, I couldn't wait to hear what she had to say.  With my young hand in her gnarly aging one, she traced the teensy lines criss-crossing my palm and revealed their cryptic messages, only two of which I now remember: that in my 20's and 30's a lot of people would move in and out of my life, and a fairly nonchalant, "you'll probably almost die in your 40's because there is, as you see, this gap in your lifeline." She reassured me that I probably wouldn't actually die... just almost.

While fascinating and somewhat romantic, I've never completely believed in mystical things like palmistry and fortune telling, because, like horoscopes, they play off vagaries that are easy to line up; however - so far - the palmist was certainly correct in that I would meet a lot of people. Travelling allows you to meet people from all over the world, and particularly with touring to see Morrissey, it doesn't take long to make friends from various countries and continents, because we see each other in queues or at gigs quite often. Yes, we are all different, but at our core we share the same love.  It strikes me that in my mid to late 30's, these moments, with these people, are by far my best.

As it is with travel, it's also true that technology allows you to meet countless people - especially via social media. The Internet is tricky, however, because sincerity and intentions can be more difficult to gauge, when they are behind the anonymous shield of a computer screen. I realize sitting here that I've been having trouble extracting my thoughts and feelings from my mind and into writing, because, quite bluntly, social media has f*cked me up.  Perhaps naively, or mistakenly, I've historically found the Internet a place to fling my thoughts out, almost as if it were my own personal journal, because in my hometown, I usually play a role that is not really me...
Openly wearing your heart on your sleeve means it can get caught and snagged now and then; the trick is to make sure it doesn't entirely unravel.

For now, I'm in my rainy doldrum hometown, waiting to go back on the road to a few more Morrissey concerts...

It's an exciting time to be Moz lover, with the release of his new album Low In High School this weekend and upcoming tour dates in the US, UK, Ireland, and Mexico. Since the last time I wrote (I should say blogged, but it's such an ugly word) Morrissey has released a music video for lead single Spent The Day In Bed, featuring avant-garde performance artist David Hoyle, as well as footballer Joey Barton, who pushes a sparkly-sweatered Morrissey around in a wheelchair; does the wheelchair symbolize the confines of the music industry, or does it symbolize that he feels freest while singing, or something entirely different?  Moz has also released singles I Wish You Lonely and Jacky's Only Happy When She's Up On Stage, and is featured in an interview about his upcoming album in Billboard.

US tour includes 2 nights at the Hollywood Bowl
Via farkomalarco on Instagram

Video for Spent The Day In Bed

Jesse Tobias pushes Moz around in a wheelchair
in Spent The Day In Bed
Photo via lowinhighschoomorrissey on Instagram

At the time of writing, Morrissey has appeared live in Portland, Seattle, San Francisco, and 2 shows at the Hollywood Bowl, all of which I have been lucky enough to attend (glamorous legend Sophia Loren was in attendance in Hollywood!) ... and tonight, he sings in Tempe Arizona.

In Los Angeles, November 10th was declared Morrissey Day, and Monica Rodriguez, of LA city council presented Moz with a certificate backstage before the first Hollywood Bowl concert. It truly did feel magical walking down the sunny palm-lined LA streets in my Morrissey t-shirt that day, and while for many of us, everyday is like Morrissey Day, having him honoured in such a way made our hearts swell.

Beautiful words from the LA Mayor:

"Los Angeles embraces individuality, compassion, and creativity, and Morrissey expresses those values in a way that moves Angelenos of all ages... Morrissey Day celebrates an artist whose music has captivated and inspired generations of people who may not always fit in - because they were born to stand out." - Mayor Eric Garcetti via LA TIMES.com

Happy Morrissey Day!
Photo via lowinhighschoolmorrissey on Instagram

I've been scribbling my own personal memories down from the last few weeks, and as I'm due to go travelling again so soon, I thought for now I would share some personal highlights, or snapshots, from the concerts and my travels so far:


Portland, October 31st:

A friend and I decide to wear Halloween costumes - both of us are cats. A few hours before the concert, sitting on the pavement outside of the venue, a dog becomes very confused by us, ONLY us, as we appear to be human, yet have cat ears...
It's exciting to see Morrissey sing songs from his new album for the first time in such an ornate, intimate venue as the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall in Portland. As our elbows are propped against the cool polished wood of the stage... I notice a tenor saxophone and wonder what Boz has up his sleeve: it turns out to be I Started Something I Couldn't Finish, played live for the first time EVER - exquisite! As I witness Home Is A Question Mark live for the first time, I am touched by how moving its melancholic minor chords and longing lyrics are.  I learn from my fellow cat-eared friend a few days later that my faulty stage attempt (my legs gave way as soon as I hauled myself up) is mentioned in Billboard - and I'm described as a "daring young woman"; as I consider myself  neither daring nor young, this inspires a slightly flattered giggle.

Morrissey and Jesse Tobias in Portland

Boz and Mando in front of the backdrop for When
You Open Your Legs

Crash Into My Arms

It's always cool to see yourself in a photo with Moz:
at Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall in Portland.
Photo via Morrisseyofficial Facebook

Seattle, November 2nd:

Seattle is cold - and I'm the wimpiest Canadian ever, queuing under 2 blankets while wearing 2 coats. I meet a fellow fan from Australia, and we sneak into a nearby hotel to 'borrow' their fireplace a few times... The Paramount Theatre is stunning with high ceilings and glittering chandeliers, and all the freezing becomes worthwhile as I snag a spot near centre barrier.  My Love, I'd Do Anything For You is added to the setlist with its pounding, booming rhythms and powerful vocals. For the encore, my exhilaration nearly soars into the stars as Morrissey walks out in the sparkly jacket he wore in Mexico earlier this year.  He shakes my hand and now my heart is full.

THE sparkly jacket <3

San Francisco, November 4th:

Snow is rare in Seattle at this time of year - and an unexpected snowfall grounds and delays numerous flights at the airport.  I'm desperate to get to San Francisco to see my dearest love, and on a side note also because I've heard there's a fantastic vegan sushi restaurant. At least our flight isn't cancelled, although we need to be de-iced and are subsequently left gateless for an hour on the tarmac upon landing in San Francisco. The sushi is a write-off, but I could care less because I've made it to California. We queue early in the morning, and thanks to very kind security, our entrance to the multi-doored Masonic goes much smoother than the chaos of 2015.

When Morrissey walks out - I can barely believe my eyes - he is wearing a cardigan. Seeing Morrissey sing live while wearing a cardigan is a dream come true for me and I'm glad I have the barrier to hang onto, because I could nearly faint from joy!  The setlist for San Fran includes Your Arsenal's Glamorous Glue (apparently the first time its been played since 1992) and our continent's first live taste of Jacky's Only Happy When She's Up On Stage.

Morrissey wearing a cardigan in San Francisco
Photo by @mischievousnose on Twitter

Early the next morning we will drive on to Paso Robles, but I'm too excited - and hungry - to sleep. Luckily, DNA Pizza in San Francisco boasts a vegan pizza called "The Morrissey":

Paso Robles:

While the concert in Paso Robles was not meant to be this time around (trust me it was FREEZING...) it turns out there are some pretty nifty wineries in the area. I decided Sculpterra winery was the one for me, because, upon arrival, you are greeted by a 14-ft tall cat sculpture weighing in at 17,000 pounds. I don't know how I could be more sold on anything if I tried.  The winery is also home to a number of cats, and their caregiver introduces us to them after our tasting. The vineyard's feline elder seems to be around 20 years old, and is one part tough, wizened street cat and one part snuggle-pie.

Giant Cat Sculpture, "Golden Morning" in Paso Robles

Winery cats

Hollywood Bowl November 10th:

The night before the concert we check out Crumbs and Whiskers Cat Cafe (my 2nd time visiting) and Mozzer's beloved Cat and Fiddle (the first time for me, as its original location had already been closed on my last few LA visits).  It's also my first time at the Hollywood Bowl: the venue is huge, and its seashell-stage and hillside seats evoke a sense of old-Hollywood nostalgia.  I've never seen Billy Idol live before, and he's a bleached-blonde ball of energy - and while I'm not familiar with his entire setlist, he's a great, fiery opener. Now for Moz... a rush and a push towards the stage as he walks out - his voice is spectacular and so is the band... yet on a personal note, this concert is a little stressful for me because the venue is a tad rigid about where people are standing in the pit, or pool as it's called. The band is decked out in black berets and "Who Will Protect Us From The Police?" tees, and Morrissey wears a grey-pinstriped suit with a little yellow butterfly stitched on the sleeve.  For the encore, Moz wears the glittery jacket, and I'm overjoyed for my friend, a longtime devoted Morrissey fan, who catches it at the end of the concert - all in one  incense-scented piece. After a late-night stop on Sunset for vegan Thai food in a restaurant complete with mannequins and artfully haphazard graffiti, we are ready to do it all over again the next day.

The Cat and Fiddle!

Hooray for Hollywood!

Morrissey and Jesse in Hollywood

Handsome Devil

Restaurant mannequin

Hollywood Bowl November 11th:

With this concert, the Western portion of the tour for me comes to an end. Feeling a touch of gloominess in the midst of my excitement, I throw back a few glasses of Pinot Grigio pre-gig, which I almost never do.  Upon entry to the Bowl,we are again told to keep near our seats, which I'm generally not-so-used-to... as I usually attend GA concerts.  Still, I'm surrounded by friends, in Hollywood, watching Morrissey - and loving every moment. The beautiful surprise of I'm Not Sorry moves me to near tears, and his voice is filled with emotion as the lyrics that have traced their marks upon our hearts since Quarry grace our ears.

The encore is Let Me Kiss You and Glamorous Glue - and at the end of Glamorous Glue, Morrissey makes one last move towards the very side of the stage. Back in the 3rd row, well over to the side, I've not been very close to him tonight and hardly dream I could get closer, as we are sectioned off from the front pit - yet - I see a gap of light in the flailing bodies of both fans and security ... almost a clear path towards him... and I run up - and he reaches out and I manage to touch him.  It's an unexpected moment of pure joy.

Let Me Kiss You

As humans, we exist in many spheres, and in this sense, among others, it is hard to find 'home.' At least for some of us it feels that way - a constant gnawing for something, or someone that speaks to us. Is home the terrifically noisy suite in which I live? Is home something not tangible, the thoughts and feelings I extend out into the world during the times I feel able to express myself? Is home my body or inner thoughts? Lately for me, I feel most at home when I'm travelling with my friends to see Morrissey.



All photos by me unless specified.

PLACES TO CHECK OUT ON THE WEST COAST:

Sculpterra Winery - wine and cats!
San Diego Cat Cafe - rescues and adopts cats
Kindred (cool vegan restaurant in San Diego - plays metal music) 
Crumbs and Whiskers Cat Cafe LA - Hollywood cat cafe
The Cat and Fiddle - pub in LA, a Moz fan favourite 
Toi on Sunset (Thai food, cool atmosphere, MANNEQUINS, vegan options)
Donut Friend - best donuts and all vegan - includes the SMorrissey
Cinnaholic - vegan cinnamon buns - customized
DNA Pizza - San Francisco - features vegan pizza named after Morrissey

Moztober: New tour, new songs, and Wilde new fashion

There was a time when October was my favourite month of the year. Having never been a sun-worshipper, and prone to being morbid and pale, I’ve spent my life craving crisp air and knit wear, not to mention the added bonuses of my birthday and Halloween. Over the last few years, however, I’ve found Fall somewhat troubling, mostly because October’s my birth-month, and I find the closer I trudge towards 40, the more daunting the entire aging process becomes; it’s just plain strange to see yourself change, to find lines tracing emotional road maps across your face, and discover that universal truth you’ve always known, but never wanted to consider, that - as some old cliché or other goes - human life has seasons of its own. Autumn, with its pretty golds and rusts, also conveys change, withering... oh, what a drag.

Luckily, I’ve been able to keep myself busy making travel plans – because – this autumn we are looking forward to a Morrissey US tour, which will kick off in Portland, Oregon on Halloween. It should be a treat, and Moz and the band might have some delicious tricks up their sleeves (I’m toying with the idea of deleting the trick-or-treat pun because it’s just not very clever, but I’ll hurdle you into the moment with me - too much caffeine, not enough sleep...so...let's make this stream-of-consciousness) However, as it is a holiday of sorts, perhaps something special will be arranged: remember the sugar skull face painting for last year's Día de los muertos concert in Santa Barbara? 

Of course, I'm wondering, as any other mid-thirty-something attending a Halloween concert would wonder, should I wear a costume?  In the meantime, check out the decadently beautiful historic venue:

Arlene Schnitzter concert hall in Portland, Oregon

Morrissey with Matt Walker at Santa Barbara Bowl
Via @freddyrules2 on Twitter

Leading up to the US tour and the November 17^th release of Low In High School, Morrissey will sing live on a number of programmes throughout the UK and Europe. To date he has appeared on...

BBC 6 Music Live (UK)

Later With Jools Holland (UK)

Le Live – C à Vous (Paris)

Arte concert – Schwuz (Berlin)

The appearance on BBC 6 fell on the heels of a horrific mass shooting at a Las Vegas concert. 58 people were killed, and hundreds injured, by a gun-loving lunatic gutlessly huddled within Mandalay Bay’s gilded towers, showering a hurricane of bullets on thousands of people who simply wanted to enjoy themselves for the night. Concerts are, for many of us, the places where we feel most free, and perhaps it is only at concerts that we can escape from the struggles within us, surrounding us, and engulfing us. Something about attacks in this vein strike as particularly evil... life is a pigsty.  This, of course, also begs the question, as I sit here up in relatively gun-free Canada... why do a certain number of NRA-obsessed Americans feel it is necessary to own guns, period? And those who excuse gun ownership for hunting... why feel the need to kill any animal, human or not? It is nothing but senseless death and violence.

Feeling a bit numb that particular Monday, and due to being about 8 time zones away, like many of my North American friends, I chose to pick up the BBC 6 concert the following night. Musing over some personal stress as well, my mood felt glum, unfocused... but I tuned in, nursing a glass of Malbec that tasted vaguely of dusty, dusky attics – and oh, my heart...

There was Morrissey – upon the stage – the first time I’d witnessed him singing live since Dallas in April. Wearing a sleek, plaid-lined Gucci jacket... he walked up to the lone, brave, powerful silhouette of the microphone - “made available” at Maida Vale.

Morrissey in Gucci collage by franeby on Instagram

Ultra-exclusive and difficult to attain tickets for, I only knew of one person in attendance at this gig. The band opened with Ringleader’s guitar-driven masterpiece You Have Killed Me, before jumping into a couple of new tracks: I Wish You Lonely and lead single, Spent The Day In Bed. At the right time, at the wrong time, at any time, truly great music says something to you about your life, and yet – it simultaneously helps you escape – into a different sphere. Awe.

My purpose today is not to review the new songs or do so formally – letting them absorb with purity on release of the new album, to me, seems the way to go, but – wow – I adore I Wish You Lonely. I think it’s quickly becoming one of my favourite Morrissey songs of all time. Mando Lopez expertly drives the tune with a killer bass line, and the lyrics and Morrissey’s vocals are sheer emotional force, throwing you into the mindset of the grotesquely lonely. “Tombs are full of fools” who give their lives upon command to war, romance, addiction – and the intoxicating lure of lost causes, chasing any opiate to dissolve our own crippling sense of emptiness, inevitably hurling us into the grave.

Setlist for Maida Vale, October 2, 2017:

1. You Have Killed Me

2. I Wish You Lonely (new track)

3. Spent The Day In Bed (new track)

4. Speedway

5. Istanbul

6. Ganglord

7. Jacky’s Only Happy When She’s Up On Stage (new track)

8. Back On The Chain Gang (Pretenders cover)

9. World Peace Is None Of Your Business

10. The Bullfighter Dies

11. When You Open Your Legs (new track)

12. Jack The Ripper

13. Home Is A Question Mark (new track)

14. All The Young People Must Fall In Love (new track)

Moz sang friend Hynde's song Back On The Chain Gang

Fast Forward to October 9^th, when Morrissey appeared live in Paris for a very intimate set on French programme C à Vous Live, singing Spent The Day In Bed. I also missed watching this one live, but managed to get hold of some YouTube footage later. To my absolute delight, Morrissey was decked out in a tawny-coloured cardigan embellished with a gold peacock feather. As both a cardigan lover and bird lover, this sent me nearly over the edge of excitment. I don’t believe Mozzer has appeared on stage in a cardi since Bergen last August, where he wore a glorious black sparkly one.

Morrissey wearing a cardigan on French TV

Due to my fascination with Moz fashion (particularly cardigans), I took to Google to see if I could find any info about the knitted piece. It turns out the sweater is from Alexander McQueen’s 2017 Autumn Collection, which was inspired by Oscar Wilde’s aestheticism, hence the peacock feather. Peacock feathers and sunflowers were favourites of Wilde’s from his days at Magdalen College, when he immersed himself in the oft-critiqued (by rigid traditionalists, anyway) aesthetic movement, becoming one of the movement's head figures. It's been a while since I've read Wilde's tragedy Salome, but peacocks do make an appearance at some point (I think?) and feature on the play's cover art.

Morrissey reading Wilde

Original cover art sketch, by Audrey Beardsley, for Salome

Alla Nazimova as Salome 

Like Wilde, McQueen also cast a distinctly tragic figure, as both died in their 40s. While Wilde passed away at 46, his health never recuperating after his imprisonment, McQueen died at 40 from suicide, after a series of attempts, a battle with depression and substance use, and unbearable grief over his mother’s death. Like Wilde, McQueen was considered a genius and found success at a fairly young age: his fashion design blurred lines with art, shock culture, political commentary, and has been described as “menacing, disturbing, and uncompromising.” Having heard of McQueen by name only, I learned more of him after a Twitter follower of mine, @michaelgracejr from indie band My Favourite pointed out to me that McQueen designed a collection in 1998 based on Joan of Arc: “now I know how Joan of Arc felt.”

McQueen's Joan of Arc
via pinterest

Still from The Passion of Joan of Arc (Falconetti)
Used as backdrop by Morrissey

To add layer over layer, McQueen’s 1992 graduate collection was inspired by Jack the Ripper. The collection featured jackets lined with strands of human hair. Perhaps this isn’t as creepy or unusual as it sounds, because, as an accessory, and a form of mourning art, human hair was a thing in Victorian times; look up “Victorian Hair Jewellery”. McQueen’s collection was called “Jack The Ripper Stalks His Victims.” Between Wilde, Joan, and Ripper, it seems that McQueen and Morrissey, at least at some level, have been captivated by a few similar figures.

Morrissey singing Jack the Ripper via mischievousnose on IG

With a new tour and album, we are also treated to new interviews. This week, in an interview for Rolling Stone, Morrissey said the songs on Low In High School are united by the common thread of “a rage in the blood, plus endless hooks.” He also maintains that, while the world may be in a messy state, hope can be found in art: “the political elite has stopped breathing, and the people and politicians everywhere are openly in a state of mutual contempt. Translate all of this into great music and life becomes hopeful.” For, how many of us actually look to politicians to speak to us about our lives, and, if we do, what the hell is wrong with us? It really is music that speaks to us on a deeper level, that drills into our blood, our moods, our minds, and helps us feel understood amidst the depersonalizing chaos surrounding us.

Excited to see Moz, excited to see my friends from far-off places, and also to visit some new cities, I’m back to planning my trip. I’m particularly excited to travel to the Eastern US, as I’ve never been out that way before. Speaking of Wilde, New York City now boasts a bar devoted to the quick-quipping writer. While seemingly not having any original items of Wilde's on display... Oscar Wilde NYC might just be a place to check out, as it’s located near Madison Square Garden. I have a feeling that Wilde, a master of ready-with-ready-wit, would find the “Wilde mushroom pasta” slightly cringey, however, but the lure of absinthe cocktails may be too great to resist.  

Oscar Wilde Bar in NYC via Town & Country Magazine

As of the day of writing, I am happy to say that a few friends of mine were able to attend Morrissey in Berlin, where he debuted another new track from Low In High School:  My Love, I’d Do Anything For You.

Moz in Berlin via seemserene on IG

New beginnings, albeit later in the year.

Maybe I’ve found a silver lining to this autumn thing after all.