Muscular Morrissey
Berlingske Tidende (Dec. 1, 1997)
review by Lars B. Jørgensen
submitted and translated by Thomas Bjerre
| A short but pithy and hectic concert from a misanthropic Englishman
held the attention of Vega spellbound Saturday night. "Trouble is my business", said the detective Philip Marlowe in Raymond Chandler's archetypal crime novels. The world does not look completely like this as seen from Morrissey's window. But the former Smiths frontman has realized that trouble is a part of the (dis)order of the day to a certain extent, so of course he has written the song "Trouble Loves Me" on his latest album with the fitting title "Maladjusted". And he still is maladjusted, the good Morrissey. But the distinguished gentleman with a past in one of the most pioneering bands of the 80's is in no way as alone and lonely as many of his misanthropic songs leads us to believe. Just look at Vega Saturday night, overflowing with Morrissey's loyal attendants, who exuberantly bid the 38 year-old singer a warm and hearty welcome. It was almost touching to witness. And Morrissey himself looked almost bewildered by all the unprejudiced kindness, so he repaid this by delivering a short but powerful and concentrated concert which left a healthy skeptic the impression that it is way too early to write off this loner. As for his records yours truly has not been interested in Morrissey for a long time. Weak melodic material and too much complacent navel contemplation have done theirs. Morrissey has obviously lacked competent musical defense in most of his solo career. On the other hand Morrissey has surprised very positively when he is on a stage. Accompanied by the same people with whom he records his albums, they change Morrissey's song catalogue to a muscular and temperamental business that moves and rummages. And this is very good for Morrissey because his songs are here endowed with a drive that blows away the dusty enclosure and literary grandeur in favour of a self-denying musical triumph. "Hell, it sounds like Big Country!" yelled the person next to me during the breathless and brawny rendition of "Boy Racer", and I could see what he meant. Seen as a concert, the show in Vega was dominated by a hard and massive touch that did not care a hoot about bel-esprit and subtlety. On the other hand we got the lift which does not really appear when Morrissey rotates on the record player at home. From insightful and slanderously portraying descriptions of English characters like "Dagenham Dave" and "Spring-Heeled Jim" to the grand finale with the Smiths' outsider hymn "Shoplifters of the World Unite" it was a night where Morrissey sounded the attack on all the trouble and stuffed fine feelings where the sun don't shine. It was more than enough to make me walk home happy and satisfied. Why, even a smiling, thankful, and released Morrissey seemed to have forgotten that trouble is also an inevitable part of his business. Hallelujah! |