An Open Letter to Journalists, From Morrissey Fans

 An open letter to Journalists, from Morrissey fans

I’m writing this to say, in a not-so-gentle-way, we are tired, and we are angry.

And it’s not at Morrissey.

It’s at the press and the escalation of their slanted articles and untruths about Morrissey and us, his fans.

Journalists who lie strike again and again. Most recently, Stephen Dalton for The Times, in an article reviewing Rick Astley and The Blossoms' recent Smiths cover concert at the O2 Forum, reported that Morrissey’s website “published some withering words on Astley.” This is completely untrue, as Morrissey expressed praise for the concerts, thanking the artists involved.

The only negativity - or controversy - surrounding Rick Astley and The Blossoms was caused by a bullying online pack that repeatedly attempts to discredit and attack Morrissey and an incredibly biased press that seems intent on only reporting views that are disparaging of Morrissey, rather than those which are positive and supportive.

Alas, it doesn’t end there.

In August, the Los Angeles Times  included Morrissey in a list of musicians who are anti-vaxxers. Morrissey, as far as I’m aware, has never expressed this view regarding the pandemic, simply stating in an interview that rigid restrictions are imposed on poorer people by elites who rarely follow their own rules, a point which is hard to argue against. The publication later corrected the text, but this is yet again indicative of a press that seems to go out of their way to make antagonistic or unsupported claims about Morrissey, often without providing any evidence to back such claims up.

Unsubstantiated allegations that “Morrissey is racist” are abundant in publications like The Guardian, which pathetically resort to re-hashing and misinterpreting 30-year-old song lyrics, or chopping quotes (often related to animal welfare) completely out of context, yet they ignore the fact Morrissey works with, and has been influenced by, a number of black artists and people of colour, regularly speaks out against racially-driven police brutality and social injustices, and has adoring fans from numerous ethnic backgrounds all over the world.

And still, it doesn’t end there...

For, not only is the press misrepresenting and lying about Morrissey himself, but also us – his devoted fanbase. Cue publications consisting of one-sided arguments, only including takes like “[fans] would rather have Astley than Morrissey,” or that we are “abandoning Morrissey,” or, as a May 2019 article by Tim Jonze claimed , that we “feel so betrayed” by him. Jonze, of course, failed to mention the legions of fans who attended Morrissey’s 7 night Broadway residency earlier that month.

Shockingly - or perhaps not - earlier this year, another article reported that Morrissey was “blasted by his own fans for over-reaction to Simpsons parody.” This is an entirely biased and outlandish statement, as the vast majority of feedback I saw was from fans who were appalled by the body-shaming, slanderous, and ageist episode, feeling they had been duped by producers into watching it, as it was initially presented as something positive. Tweets used in the article, yet again, were predominantly sourced from the personal accounts of ‘blue check’ journalists for Pitchfork or the New Yorker, or podcast hosts. What’s clear is that mainstream publications rarely, if ever, provide supportive quotes from actual fans, of which there are many, leaving us completely unheard and unrepresented.

It’s an odd phenomenon – there was barely a whisper from the press about Morrissey’s record-breaking 5-night Las Vegas residency, or his headlining Chicago's Riot fest for an audience of 40,000 fans last month. No mention of the fans reaching to hold his hand, passing him letters and gifts, no mention of people from all backgrounds donning Morrissey tees and attending his gigs to show him love and see him sing in person. No mention of all the supportive messages on social media.

Morrissey fans at the Hollywood Bowl, 2019
photo by @mischievousnose Twitter

Quite frankly, I am tired of the press and their lies upon lies. As a fan, I feel completely misrepresented. Thanks to freelance writers like Fiona Dodwell, and fan bloggers like Jo Whitfield and Angie Cooke, and websites like Letters To Morrissey, we do have a voice, but the mainstream media continues to try to drown us out with uninformed, biased articles that have very little, if any, grounding in reality.

The power should be with the people – not mainstream publications like The Guardian, and NME. And we will not bow or break, and continue to stand proud as Morrissey fans – and there are many of us.

If you cannot stand this fake world, take my hand.

Agree? Leave a message or share to show your support! Viva Moz!

Listener, Meet Lyricist: Morrissey's Lyrics and the Art of Storytelling

There are multitudes of qualities that make Morrissey’s lyrics so beloved by generations of fans all over the world, but lately I’ve been thinking a lot about his gift as a descriptive storyteller, so I wanted to explore that a bit...

Morrissey in Texas, 2019

I’ve always been a lyrics girl. For me to truly get into an artist, their words need to speak to me. Voice is undoubtedly crucial, and instrumentals can make or break things as well, but I love a song that can draw me in and tell me something about life, myself, or someone else. When I discovered Morrissey, it was not only his beautiful voice, but also his words that gave a jolt and awareness to my heart. It was something I felt I had been missing in life, somehow soothing a sense of loneliness and strangeness that had followed me relentlessly since almost before I can remember.

For many of us, Morrissey’s lyrics are an emotional lifeline, and it’s hard to imagine existence without the guidance of his words. His music provides a soundtrack to our lives. It’s remarkable how certain qualities of his songs continue to jump out at me, years after first delving into his catalogue. For, not only does he connect with his audience on such a deep level emotionally, but he is also a brilliant storyteller.

Ringleader era Morrissey looking
very fetching in a tux, via Pinterest

I was trying to cope with post-tour blues, and craving movement in a world of stagnation, so I put on one of my favourite Morrissey records, Ringleader of the Tormentors, and went for a drive. Through a maze of traffic lights and intersections, with trees and buildings whirring by, it struck me how, while my eyes were on the road (don’t worry!) my mind’s eye was transported to entirely different places, and into other people’s lives, through Morrissey’s lyricism. Suddenly, I was running on the streets, down damp dark pitted back alleys, with On The Streets I Ran dancing through my speakers:

Ooh a working class face glares back
At me from the glass and lurches
Oh, forgive me on the streets I ran
Turned sickness into popular song
Streets of wet black holes
On roads you can never know...

The words in this case aren’t necessarily extravagant, they don’t have to be, but the descriptive quality lends an evocative sense of time and place. I can almost feel my feet slamming into the puddles on a dark street, the eerie faces. The Father Who Must Be Killed, from the same album, sends me to another scene, this time urgent, frustrated, violent, desperate:

Stepchild, there’s a knife in a drawer in a room downstairs
And you, you know what you must do
So the stepchild ran with a knife to his sleeping frame
And slams it in his arms, his legs, his face, his neck and says
There’s a law against me now
And the father who must be killed
With his dying breath, he grabs her hand
And he looks into her eyes
He says “I’m sorry” and he dies...

Morrissey signing a book on stage

Switching to 2009 compilation album Swords, even the beauty of a single descriptive line from I Knew I Was Next jumped out at me: “the shadows of trees, they reach to me.” The imagery is enchanting, dark, and a little bit haunting.

Sister, he’s a poet.

It strikes me how Morrissey has the ability to convey, in a 4 or 5 minute song, a transformative experience, where the listener feels as if they are completely enveloped and engaged within a different dimension. This is the art of storytelling, and part of what makes Morrissey’s music so timeless. It is an innate aspect of his talent as an artist, and I believe it is also probably influenced by his love of literature.

Morrissey standing in front of a James Baldwin
backdrop, Hollywood Bowl, 2019

James Baldwin, one of Morrissey’s great influences, once said of writing, “Don’t describe it, show it ... Don’t describe a purple sunset, make me see that it is purple.”  I feel Morrissey’s lyrics often give us insight into another world that goes beyond typical description, akin to what Baldwin discusses here: we are shown the places Morrissey is singing about, his words paint a story and our imaginations travel to where he beckons us. Sights, sounds, sensations, make his art living and vibrant, our blood is flowing, and a certain magic takes place.

James Baldwin, NY
Public Library, Harlem

I thought I would look at some other Morrissey songs across his discography where sense of place creates these transportive experiences, starting back with his time in the Smiths and Rusholme Ruffians, from Meat is Murder:

The last night of the fair
by the big wheel generator
a boy is stabbed
and his money is grabbed
and the air hangs heavy like a dulling wine...

The atmosphere is deliciously sinister and I can absolutely feel that heavy, heady air sticking to my skin. “The grease in the hair, of a speedway operator, is all a tremulous heart requires” is another spellbinding moment, vivid in the mind's eye.

photo by Kevin Cummins

Boxers, from 1995, makes you feel as if you are at the match yourself, awash in the boxer’s loss:

Losing in front of your home town
The crowd call your name
They love you all the same
The sound, the smell, and the spray
You will take them all away
And they’ll stay
Til the grave

Maladjusted, from the 1997 studio album of the same name, in my opinion, is one of the greatest descriptive moments in music history. It has the poeticism of a classic novel. Those opening lines always give me goosebumps, and I won’t reproduce the entire song here – but it is alluring storytelling at its finest: atmospheric and building, building, building.

I want to start from
Before the beginning
Loot wine, “be mine, and
Then let’s stay out for the night”
Ride via Parkside
Semi-perilous lives
Jeer the lights in the windows
Of all safe and stable homes...

Morrissey in London, 2018

Come Back to Camden, from 2004’s You Are The Quarry, is exceptionally beautiful, mournful and filled with the ache of loneliness, as you are transported under “slate grey Victorian sky.”

The tile yard all along the railings
Up a discoloured dark brown staircase
Here you’ll find despair and I
...
Drinking tea with the taste of the Thames
Sullenly on a chair on the pavement
...
Where taxi drivers never stop talking
Under slate grey Victorian sky
Here you’ll find despair and I

Istanbul, from 2014’s World Peace Is None Of Your Business, puts the listener directly onto the streets of the Turkish city, with the father looking for his missing son.

Moonlight jumping through the trees
Sunken eyes avoiding me
From dusk til dawn the hunt is on
The father searches for the son

...

On secret streets in disbelief

Little shadow shows the lead

Prostitutes, stylish and glum

In amongst them you are one...

Once I Saw The River Clean, from Morrissey’s most recent release, 2020’s I Am Not A Dog On A Chain, takes one back in time, along on a walk with young Morrissey and his grandmother:

I walked with my grandmother
Along the groan of Talbot road
In the gardens by the graves
I can just about behave
Arrogant and paranoid,
All around, see fathead youth
Look into their brutal eyes
But only if you want the truth

Morrissey singing in front of a childhood
photo, Las Vegas, 2021

Morrissey’s extraordinary ability to invoke a sense of time and place is only one facet of many that make his lyrics so special, and he continues to captivate, inspiring his audience with his words and voice. Music that speaks to the human psyche is incredibly rare these days, and to create with such descriptive, poetic vibrance is indeed even rarer. Despite relentless social media and clickbait ‘journalist’s’ attempts to discredit him, Morrissey stands the test of time as a unique and irreplaceable artist, holding a special place in the hearts of his many fans around the world.

His words are engraved on our spirits, minds, hearts, and skin.

Morrissey headlining Riot Fest, 2021
Photo by Armando L. Sanchez

Viva Moz Vegas - A Review

How do I know this is all real?

I’ve never been very good at living in the moment. My brain is always swirling, chattering, past, present, here, there, and anywhere. Excitement for the next gig was often what got me through tough times, or even simply dull times. But this time, with Morrissey’s Las Vegas residency postponed for over a year, in a world of ‘new anything-but-normal,’ I couldn’t let myself get too excited, or even very excited at all, because I knew, if it didn’t happen, the crash would be too painful.  It felt like the odds were stacked against me.

Booking flights, hotel, and planning with friends, I couldn’t allow myself to believe. The Canadian and US border was still a shifting list of incongruent rules and complexities. It felt daunting. I’m going to meet the one I love, so please don’t stand in my way... Even packing my suitcase 2 days before flying... I still can’t allow myself to believe. We have to pass negative covid tests to board our trans-border flight, or it’s not gonna happen. It’s virtually impossible to find a place that even offers the tests and documentation, and fairly last minute, we find one. It's a travel agency where the lone agent stands up from his palm-tree pamphleted desk to dress in PPE: a face shield, mask, gloves, and gown to administer our testing vials. It’s beyond Kafakesque absurdity. Welcome to the Knockabout 2020’s.

Our tests are negative; it finally feels more real, yet I still can’t allow myself to believe it is. I awake from a short restless nap to arrive at the airport in time for our flight. Canadian airports remain relatively empty for summer travel, yet even masked and with new tensions, precious memories of past tours begin trickling into my consciousness, prompted by elements as seemingly inert as the carpet pattern at Vancouver airport, or the feel of sun pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows as planes crawl out of gates. The sight of a wind sock almost makes me cry. Do I need help? Possibly... but who doesn’t these days?

Touching down in Las Vegas via triple connection, it still feels like Vegas. Pandemia Vegas – flashing lights, busy casinos with chirping slot machines, just be-masked and sanitized. It’s quite busy too, which, after years of not doing very much, takes some getting used to. We are staying at the Paris, and I can see Caesar’s Palace Colosseum’s marquee from across the street: my eyes are blessed by a giant glowing Morrissey - Viva Moz Vegas - an angelic handsome devil in white. Is it real yet?

On gig day I can hardly eat, which isn’t anything shockingly new. I preen with great care in preparation for the show: if I’m nervous inside, I may as well look as nice as I can. Hours tick down, down, down, and then, through scorching evening desert heat, the surreal walk to the venue begins. Crowds saunter, and suddenly my legs burst with more energy than they have had since 2019. I feel as if I’m emerging from a chrysalis, and my wings ache to move as I weave between barely-moving drunk tourists, smoky poker sugar daddies, and glitzy showgirls. Oh, the butterflies. I’m going to see the one I love, so please don’t stand in my way!

In Caesar’s Palace, a blur of reproduced Roman gods and goddesses, lovely smooth marble physiques, and jewelled carpets all reel past, a backdrop to our true purpose, and we arrive at the tall, heavy wooden entrance doors to the Colosseum – does it feel real now? Familiar fan faces approach – and giddy reunions of disbelief occur. I missed my friends.  And then... the clock strikes, and doors swing open.

Talk about nerves – the contents of my purse fly everywhere as I race into the lobby, but I'm way too giddy to feel embarrassed.  Thunderous pounding makes my veins pulse with life and - deep breath – I take the walk through lush darkness down velvety steps to the stage. My seat is front row, Jesse’s side of the stage. There is no barrier, no distance, and in a strange moment, my elbows once again touch the cool embrace of the stage. It feels like home.

Looking up at the backdrop star, who I later learn is actor Steve Cochran, it suddenly seems as if time, with all that endless waiting and worrying, hasn’t passed – and I am in the moment. Pre-show songs begin and I’m back where I was in 2019.  In my worst waves of pessimism (of which I admittedly endure many), I worried this would never happen again, for, ultimately – governments - operating under varying levels of incompetency, have more control over us than I ever, in my naivete, realized, and, without getting more political than I need to be, as this isn’t my purpose here, I had lost a lot of hope.

As Lypsinka’s wails fill the screen, I feel as if I have at least 5 hearts coursing through my body and pulsing through my hands. I think this is how it feels to be alive – all passion and nerves. And then, from the depths of backstage, through lights and misty smoke, Morrissey appears, looking absolutely gorgeous, his silver quiff catching glimpses of light, his blue eyes once again reunited with his audience. He wears a beautifully tailored grey double-breasted suit jacket, a t-shirt cut at the neck to reveal a delicate white rosary, and dark wash jeans. Good looking man about Vegas indeed!

“When you walk without ease...on these... streets where you were raised,” his voice pours, so longed for, so smoothly, better than gold, into our yearning, starved ears. The guitars phrase, swelling and sparkling: it is nothing short of mystical. This is the first time Never Had No One Ever has been played live since 1986. It's one of my favourite Smiths songs, and once again, I can’t quite believe anything is real. On the backdrop, young Morrissey watches over in black and white, as he sings his life to us.

The band lineup has changed since I last saw Morrissey back in 2019, with the addition of Alain Whyte on guitar, Solomon Walker on bass, and Brendan Buckley on drums. As in 2019, Jesse Tobias is on guitar and Gustavo Manzur is on keyboards. The band is fierce and energetic, with just the right amount of swagger, and it’s particularly enjoyable to observe how much fun Alain and Solomon have as they interact: the makings of a great team. The group is tight and energetic, and I can’t wait to hear more out of them.

Photo by @mischievousnose

It’s a night of live debuts from Morrissey’s extensive catalogue, including many from his most recent album, I Am Not A Dog On A Chain. Knockabout World is especially brilliant live, and Mozzer's voice soothes the most jagged and ragged of souls. Fans sing along ardently, as he shakes hands, reconnecting with us, accepting our gifts, and life feels like life again, not merely existence. This Night Has Opened My Eyes is an emotional surprise, another Smiths track not aired since 1986: save your life... because you’ve only got one. I cannot believe my ears, eyes, heart!

Photo by @mischievousnose

The night is not without some Las Vegas bedlam, for it is a Saturday night after all, and drinks are plentiful, and at one point a long-lasting stage invasion occurs, as some fans, including a woman donning gilded platform shoes, join the frenzy. I feel fairly fortunate not to get a disco boot to the face in all the limbs and craziness. As the night rolls on, the towering walls of the Colosseum pound with energy through a spirited cover of The Pretenders’ Back on The Chain Gang and the defiant mic cord whips of Irish Blood, English Heart. It is vibrant, fearless, raw. 

“This microphone is my headstone” ... and the night draws to a close, with a moving double encore of I’ve Changed My Plea to Guilty, and Jack The Ripper, where Morrissey flings a pale pink blazer into the clutching, hungry hands of the audience.

And the next night... we get to do it all again.

Sunday, August 29^th

I would say it’s beginning to feel real now... but I keep feeling afraid I’ll wake up from this exquisite dream. We have our own little party going at the rail, snapping selfies, and catching up with friends, enjoying the pre-show music. While not all international playboygirls are able to make it due to travel restrictions and many are dearly missed, it is wonderful to see so many familiar faces, and the love of Morrissey has brought many great friendships into my life.

Pre-show videos add to the burgeoning, volcanic excitement, showcasing Morrissey’s influences and loves. I enjoy the Supremes’ Reflections especially, as it reminds me of a childhood cassette and long-ago kitchen singalongs. Human League’s Sound of The Crowd and The Ramones’ Loudmouth inspire surges of energy in an already exuberant crowd. These videos are truly a big part of the ritual of a Morrissey concert, building up to the coveted moment he appears on the stage.

Twin James Baldwins appear on the towering backdrop and delicious wisps of fog bloom, and the moment arrives, when Morrissey and the band emerge from backstage.  Tonight, Morrissey wears an embroidered navy blue suit, and as he walks closer and my eyes adjust, I see he is wearing a gift I've given to him - a little humpback whale pin. I feel my heart overflow with immeasurable joy: it means everything to me to see him wear it.

The band erupts into How Soon Is Now?, chords aflame and lights aflicker, and the son and heir croons those beloved, familiar lines, always a lifeline. It’s otherworldly. Allow me to gush: there’s no possible way I’m 40 years old and feeling so vividly alive, and my spirit soars like I am 20, as my ears are dazzled by surrounding screams. The experience, after months upon months of hiding indoors, feels like being thrust into another, seemingly impossible realm, celestial and perfect. It is surreal. I don’t have the exact words, so I won’t even try to...

Tomorrow, not played live since 2008, is an atmospheric addition to the set. With its driving tempo and accented guitars, it gives a great sense of how well Alain and Jesse play together. Tomorrow, will It really come? And if it does come? Will I still be human? speaks to me about how time has felt over the past 18 months ... so motionless, wondering if the days would ever even pass. It is divine healing at its best.

Call me morbid, call me pale... Morrissey sings softly, over weaving guitars, with the New York Dolls pouting glamorously on the backdrop behind him. Half a Person, played here on US soil for the first time since 2000, is pure magic: merging sombreness and self-deprecation with a dash of humour, yet clinging to that small flicker of hope that keeps one going. I’m not sure any other artist speaks to that very human experience the way Morrissey does. And the crowds luff him - as he grasps hands, signs records, and fans cry, sing along, scream with excitement. The venue is a rare fireball of life and passion, so far removed from the dismal, distal outside world. Morrissey, in fact, broke records for merchandise sales at Caesar’s Palace on opening night. The press, unfortunately, rarely mentions such triumphs, or these outpourings of love, painting a vulgar picture of untruths.

Love Is On Its Way Out, from I Am Not A Dog On A Chain, is a potent, poignantly relevant number. Never one to admire the 'royals,' Morrissey’s backdrop for the song is a photo of sad rich Prince Harry, who smiles dumbly while holding a rifle over a buffalo he has just killed. Love Is On Its Way Out is a song of few words, masterfully simple yet striking; it laments the pain permeating the world, where our daily news is saturated with death and destruction. The lyrics, sung so smoothly and beautifully, jar with images of suffering : Did you see the headlines? Did you see the grablines? Did you see the nerve gassed children crying? Did you see the sad rich... hunting down, shooting down elephants and lions? How isolating to exist as a sensitive soul in such a toxic world, and yet, deep down, hope for love. Once again, Morrissey captures this condition so purely. “Take time, be mine, and gaze with fondness on the wrong one.”

"Art is not a crime."

September 2nd

While the residency will continue for a total of 5 shows, I must return home after Night 3. For me, this show was very emotional, as it is never easy to say goodbye-for-now, especially in this current world of such uncertainty. “I’m happy just to be here”

How Soon Is Now? opens the set as an adrenaline punch to the chest, and as Morrissey thrashes the stage with his microphone cord, I feel rejuvenated, alive, exorcised. How can I possibly convey what these nights have meant to me, with mere words?  Tonight, he wears a finely tailored navy blue suit, a floral tie, an almond-toned shirt, a beautiful, sparkly bracelet, and the humpback whale pin (my heart <3). His voice is impeccable and the band is fierce, as the night continues with Everyday Is Like Sunday and Irish Blood, English Heart.

Ouija Board’s haunting notes dance like teardrops on spiderwebs, and as he takes my hand during the song, every second of my life feels worth it to get here, to this moment. Now My Heart is Full.

“When you’re finished here tonight, do you scuttle back to the casinos?... I think there were more nos than yesses, which is very sad.” And muted trumpet notes indicate Morrissey’s cover of Melanie’s Some Say I Got Devil, a rich, dark piece of music, so well suited to the one who penned I Am Two People. Dramatic percussion and luxuriously dark piano beguile.  Morrissey's voice captivates, every note blessing the air it meets. Awestruck, as the spotlight falls across his face, I am reminded of seeing him sing this in Canada back in 2019. My heart is in knots in the most beautiful way possible.

You Are The Quarry’s Let Me Kiss You makes a comeback to the setlist – and it’s super-ultra-dreamy (sorry, I can’t help it!) With playful lyric changes like “I’ve heard that you’ll try anyone twice” and a mesmerizing mini-striptease featuring his tie, the live experience is deliciously rapturous. Towards the end of the song, he flings the tie into the audience, which a friend of mine is lucky enough to acquire part of, and we moon giddily over it with glasses of bubbly prosecco after the show.

And then... after Jack The Ripper and “I luff yous”, he disappears into the smoky darkness, out of my sight, yet rooted deeply in my heart.

These shows were everything to me, and I feel so, so lucky to have been able to attend. They reminded me that there is still beauty in the world, that there is still music, art, and life. Yes, the modern world can be, and is perhaps more than ever, an ugly, fearful, isolating place... but we have music, and we have an artist who still has the courage to be himself, speak his mind, and sing his life. And for that, I am so very grateful.

all photos by me unless otherwise credited